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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/16375-0.txt b/16375-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5458af0 --- /dev/null +++ b/16375-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17375 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 16375 *** + + + + +THE KING’S ACHIEVEMENT + +By Robert Hugh Benson + +Author of “By What Authority?” “The Light Invisible,” +“A Book of the Love of Jesus,” etc. + +_Non minus principi turpia sunt multa supplicia, quam medico multa +funera._ + +(Sen. de clem. 1, 24, 1.) + + + + +_I must express my gratitude once more to the Rev. Dom Bede Camm, +O.S.B., as well as to the Very Rev. Mgr. Barnes, who have done me great +service in revising proofs and making suggestions; to the Rev. E. +Conybeare, who very kindly provided the coins for the cover-design of +the book; to my mother and sister, to Eustace Virgo, Esq., to Dr. +Ross-Todd, and to others, who have been extremely kind in various ways +during the writing of this book in the summer and autumn of 1904._ + +_I must also express my great indebtedness to the Right Rev. Abbot +Gasquet, O.S.B., both on account of his invaluable books, which I have +used freely, and for his personal kindness in answering my questions._ + +ROBERT HUGH BENSON + +_The Catholic Rectory, +Cambridge, +July 14, 1905._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BOOK I. +THE KING’S WILL. + +CHAPTER + + I. A DECISION + II. A FORETASTE OF PEACE + III. THE ARRIVAL AT LEWES + IV. A COMMISSION + V. MASTER MORE + VI. RALPH’S INTERCESSION + VII. A MERRY PRISONER +VIII. A HIGHER STEP + IX. LIFE AT LEWES + X. THE ARENA + XI. A CLOSING-IN + XII. A RECOVERY +XIII. PRISONER AND PRINCE + XIV. THE SACRED PURPLE + XV. THE KING’S FRIEND + + +BOOK II. +THE KING’S TRIUMPH. + +PART I.--THE SMALLER HOUSES. + + I. AN ACT OF FAITH + II. THE BEGINNING OF THE VISITATION + III. A HOUSE OF LADIES + IV. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING + V. FATHER AND SON + VI. A NUN’S DEFIANCE + VII. ST. PANCRAS PRIORY +VIII. RALPH’S RETURN + IX. RALPH’S WELCOME + +PART II--THE FALL OF LEWES. + + I. INTERNAL DISSENSION + II. SACERDOS IN AETERNUM + III. THE NORTHERN RISING + IV. THE DESTRUCTION OF THE SEAL + V. THE SINKING SHIP + VI. THE LAST STAND + VII. AXES AND HAMMERS + + +BOOK III. + +THE KING’S GRATITUDE. + + I. A SCHEME + II. A DUEL + III. A PEACE-MAKER + IV. THE ELDER SON + V. THE MUMMERS + VI. A CATASTROPHE + VII. A QUESTION OF LOYALTY +VIII. TO CHARING + IX. A RELIEF-PARTY + X. PLACENTIA + XI. THE KING’S HIGHNESS + XII. THE TIDINGS AT THE TOWER +XIII. THE RELEASE + + + + +BENEFICO--IGNOTO +HVNC--LIBRVM +D. + + + + +THE KING’S ACHIEVEMENT + +CHAPTER I + +A DECISION + + +Overfield Court lay basking in warm June sunshine. The western side of +the great house with its new timber and plaster faced the evening sun +across the square lawns and high terrace; and the woods a couple of +hundred yards away cast long shadows over the gardens that lay beyond +the moat. The lawns, in their broad plateaux on the eastern side +descended by steps, in cool shadow to the lake that formed a +quarter-circle below the south-eastern angle of the house; and the +mirrored trees and reeds on the other side were broken, circle after +circle, by the great trout that were rising for their evening meal. The +tall front of the house on the north, formed by the hall in the centre +with the kitchen at its eastern end and the master’s chamber on the +western, was faced by a square-towered gatehouse through which the +straight drive leading into the main road approached the house under a +lime-avenue; and on the south side the ground fell away again rapidly +below the chapel and the morning-room, in copse and garden and wild +meadow bright with buttercups and ox-eye daisies, down to the lake again +and the moat that ran out of it round the entire domain. + +The cobbled courtyard in the centre of the house, where the tall leaded +pump stood, was full of movement. Half a dozen trunks lay there that +had just been carried in from the luggage-horses that were now being led +away with patient hanging heads towards the stables that stood outside +the gatehouse on the right, and three or four dusty men in livery were +talking to the house-servants who had come out of their quarters on the +left. From the kitchen corner came a clamour of tongues and dishes, and +smoke was rising steadily from the huge outside chimney that rose beyond +the roofs. + +Presently there came clear and distinct from the direction of the +village the throb of hoofs on the hard road; and the men shouldered the +trunks, and disappeared, staggering, under the low archway on the right, +beside which the lamp extinguisher hung, grimy with smoke and grease. +The yard dog came out at the sound of the hoofs, dragging his chain +after him, from his kennel beneath the little cloister outside the +chapel, barked solemnly once or twice, and having done his duty lay down +on the cool stones, head on paws, watching with bright eyes the door +that led from the hall into the Court. A moment later the little door +from the masters chamber opened; and Sir James Torridon came out and, +giving a glance at the disappearing servants, said a word or two to the +others, and turned again through the hall to meet his sons. + +The coach was coming up the drive round toward the gatehouse, as he came +out on the wide paved terrace; and he stood watching the glitter of +brasswork through the dust, the four plumed cantering horses in front, +and the bobbing heads of the men that rode behind; and there was a grave +pleased expectancy on his bearded face and in his bright grey eyes as he +looked. His two sons had met at Begham, and were coming home, Ralph from +town sites a six months’ absence, and Christopher from Canterbury, +where he had been spending a week or two in company with Mr. Carleton, +the chaplain of the Court. He was the more pleased as the house had been +rather lonely in their absence, since the two daughters were both from +home, Mary with her husband, Sir Nicholas Maxwell, over at Great Keynes, +and Margaret at her convent education at Rusper: and he himself had had +for company his wife alone. + +She came out presently as the carriage rolled through the archway, a +tall dignified figure of a woman, finely dressed in purple and black, +and stood by him, silently, a yard or two away, watching the carriage +out of steady black eyes. A moment later the carriage drew up at the +steps, and a couple of servants ran down to open the door. + +Ralph stepped out first, a tall man like both his parents, with a face +and slow gait extraordinarily like his mother’s, and dressed in the same +kind of rich splendour, with a short silver-clasped travelling cloak, +crimson hose, and plumed felt cap; and his face with its pointed black +beard had something of the same steady impassivity in it; he was +flicking the dust from his shoulder as he came up the steps on to the +terrace. + +Christopher followed him, not quite so tall as the other, and a good ten +years younger, with the grey eyes of his father, and a little brown +beard beginning to sprout on his cheeks and chin. + +Ralph turned at the top of the steps + +“The bag,” he said shortly; and then turned again to kiss his parents’ +hands; as Christopher went back to the carriage, from which the priest +was just stepping out. Sir James asked his son about the journey. + +“Oh, yes,” he said; and then added, “Christopher was late at Begham.” + +“And you are well, my son?” asked his mother, as they turned to walk up +to the house. + +“Oh, yes!” he said again. + +Sir James waited for Christopher and Mr. Carleton, and the three +followed the others a few yards behind. + +“You saw her?” said his father. + +Christopher nodded. + +“Yes,” he said, “I must speak to you, sir, before I tell the others.” + +“Come to me when you are dressed, then. Supper will be in an hour from +now;” and he looked at his son with a kind of sharp expectancy. + +The courtyard was empty as they passed through, but half a dozen +servants stood crowded in the little flagged passage that led from it +into the kitchen, and watched Ralph and his mother with an awed interest +as they came out from the hall. Mr. Ralph had come down from the heart +of life, as they knew; had been present at the crowning of Anne Boleyn a +week before, had mixed with great folks; and what secrets of State might +there not be in that little strapped bag that his brother carried behind +him? + +When the two first had disappeared, the servants broke into talk, and +went back to the kitchen. + + * * * * * + +Lady Torridon, with her elder son and the chaplain, had to wait a few +minutes on the dais in the hall an hour later, before the door under the +musicians’ gallery opened, and the other two came in from the master’s +chamber. Sir James looked a little anxious as he came across the clean +strewed rushes, past the table at the lower end where the household sat, +but Christopher’s face was bright with excitement. After a word or two +of apology they moved to their places. Mr. Carleton said grace, and as +they sat down the door behind from the kitchen opened, and the servants +came through with the pewter dishes. + +Ralph was very silent at first; his mother sat by him almost as silent +as himself; the servants sprang about noiseless and eager to wait on +him; and Sir James and the chaplain did most of the conversation, +pleasant harmless talk about the estate and the tenants; but as supper +went on, and the weariness of the hot journey faded, and the talk from +the lower tables grew louder, Ralph began to talk a little more freely. + +“Yes,” he said, “the crowning went well enough. The people were quiet +enough. She looked very pretty in her robes; she was in purple velvet, +and her gentlemen in scarlet. We shall have news of her soon.” + +Sir James looked up sharply at his son. They were all listening +intently; and even a servant behind Ralph’s chair paused with a silver +jug. + +“Yes,” said Ralph again with a tranquil air, setting down his Venetian +glass; “God has blessed the union already.” + +“And the King?” asked his father, from his black velvet chair in the +centre. + +There fell a deeper silence yet as that name was mentioned. Henry +dominated the imagination of his subjects to an extraordinary degree, no +less in his heavy middle-age than in the magnificent strength and +capacity of his youth. + +But Ralph answered carelessly enough. He had seen the King too often. + +“The King looked pleased enough; he was in his throne. He is stouter +than when I saw him last. My Lord of Canterbury did the crowning; Te +Deum was sung after, and then solemn mass. There was a dozen abbots, I +should think, and my Lords of York and London and Winchester with two or +three more. My Lord of Suffolk bore the crown.” + +“And the procession?” asked his father again. + +“That, too, was well enough. There came four chariots after the Queen, +full of ancient old ladies, at which some of the folks laughed. And then +the rest of them.” + +They talked a few minutes about the coronation, Sir James asking most of +the questions and Ralph answering shortly; and presently Christopher +broke in-- + +“And the Lady Katharine--” he began. + +“Hush, my son,” said his father, glancing at Ralph, who sat perfectly +still a moment before answering. + +“Chris is always eager about the wrong thing,” he said evenly; “he is +late at Begham, and then asks me about the Princess Dowager. She is +still alive, if you mean that.” + +Lady Torridon looked from one to the other. + +“And Master Cromwell?” she asked. + +“Master Cromwell is well enough. He asked me to give you both his +respects. I left him at Hackney.” + + * * * * * + +The tall southern windows of the hall, above the pargetted plaster, had +faded through glowing ruby and blue to dusk before they rose from the +table and went down and through the passage into the little parlour next +the master’s chamber, where they usually took their dessert. This part +of the house had been lately re-built, but the old woodwork had been +re-used, and the pale oak panels, each crowned by an elaborate foliated +head, gave back the pleasant flicker of the fire that burned between the +polished sheets of Flemish tiles on either side of the hearth. A great +globe stood in the corner furthest from the door, with a map of England +hanging above it. A piece of tapestry hung over the mantelpiece, +representing Diana bending over Endymion, and two tall candles in brass +stands burned beneath. The floor was covered with rushes. + +Mr. Carleton, who had come with them as far as the door, according to +custom, was on the point of saying-good-night, when Sir James called him +back. + +“Come in, father,” he said, “we want you to-night. Chris has something +to tell us.” + +The priest came in and sat down with the others, his face in shadow, at +the corner of the hearth. + +Sir James looked across at his younger son and nodded; and Chris, his +chin on his hand, and sitting very upright on the long-backed settle +beside the chaplain, began rather nervously and abruptly. + +“I--I have told Ralph,” he said, “on the way here and you, sir; but I +will tell you again. You know I was questioning whether I had a vocation +to the religious life; and I went, with that in my mind, to see the Holy +Maid. We saw her, Mr. Carleton and I; and--and I have made up my mind I +must go.” + +He stopped, hesitating a little, Ralph and his mother sat perfectly +still, without a word or sign of either sympathy or disapproval. His +father leaned forward a little, and smiled encouragingly. + +“Go on, my son.” + +Chris drew a breath and leaned back more easily. + +“Well, we went to St. Sepulchre’s; and she could not see us for a day or +two. There were several others staying with us at the monastery; there +was a Carthusian from Sheen--I forget his name.” + +“Henry Man,” put in the chaplain. + +“--And some others,” went on Chris, “all waiting to see her. Dr. Bocking +promised to tell us when we could see her; and he came to us one morning +after mass, and told us that she was in ecstasy, and that we were to +come at once. So we all went to the nuns’ chapel, and there she was on +her knees, with her arms across her breast.” + +He stopped again. Ralph cleared his throat, crossed his legs, and drank +a little wine. + +“Yes?” said the knight questioningly. + +“Well--she said a great deal,” went on Chris hurriedly. + +“About the King?” put in his mother who was looking at the fire. + +“A little about the King,” said Chris, “and about holy things as well. +She spoke about heaven; it was wonderful to hear her; with her eyes +burning, and such a voice; and then she spoke low and deep and told us +about hell, and the devil and his torments; and I could hardly bear to +listen; and she told us about shrift, and what it did for the soul; and +the blessed sacrament. The Carthusian put a question or two to her, and +she answered them: and all the while she was speaking her voice seemed +to come from her body, and not from her mouth; and it was terrible to +see her when she spoke of hell; her tongue lay out on her cheek, and her +eyes grew little and afraid.” + +“Her tongue in her cheek, did you say?” asked Ralph politely, without +moving. + +Chris flushed, and sat back silent. His father glanced quickly from one +to the other. + +“Tell us more, Chris,” he said. “What did she say to you?” + +The young man leaned forward again. + +“I wish, Ralph--” he began. + +“I was asking--” began the other. + +“There, there,” said Sir James. “Go on, Chris.” + +“Well, after a while Dr. Bocking brought me forward; and told her to +look at me; and her eyes seemed to see something beyond me; and I was +afraid. But he told me to ask her, and I did. She said nothing for a +while; and then she began to speak of a great church, as if she saw it; +and she saw there was a tower in the middle, and chapels on either side, +and tombs beside the high altar; and an image, and then she stopped, and +cried out aloud ‘Saint Pancras pray for us’--and then I knew.” + +Chris was trembling violently with excitement as he turned to the priest +for corroboration. Mr. Carleton nodded once or twice without speaking. + +“Then I knew,” went on Chris. “You know it was what I had in my mind; +and I had not spoken a word of Lewes, or of my thought of going there.” + +“Had you told any?” asked his father. + +“Only Dr. Bocking. Then I asked her, was I to go there; but she said +nothing for a while; and her eyes wandered about; and she began to speak +of black monks going this way and that; and she spoke of a prior, and of +his ring; it was of gold, she said, with figures engraved on it. You +know the ring the Prior wears?” he added, looking eagerly at his father. + +Sir James nodded. + +“I know it,” he said. “Well?” + +“Well, I asked her again, was I to go there; and then she looked at me +up and down; I was in my travelling suit; but she said she saw my cowl +and its hanging sleeves, and an antiphoner in my hands; and then her +face grew dreadful and afraid again, and she cried out and fell forward; +and Dr. Bocking led us out from the chapel.” + +There was a long silence as Chris ended and leaned back again, taking +up a bunch of raisins. Ralph sighed once as if wearied out, and his +mother put her hand on his sleeve. Then at last Sir James spoke. + +“You have heard the story,” he said, and then paused; but there was no +answer. At last the chaplain spoke from his place. + +“It is all as Chris said,” he began, “I was there and heard it. If the +woman is not from God, she is one of Satan’s own; and it is hard to +think that Satan would tell us of the sacraments and bid us use them +greedily, and if she is from God--” he stopped again. + +The knight nodded at him. + +“And you, sweetheart?” he said to his wife. + +She turned to him slowly. + +“You know what I think,” she said. “If Chris believes it, he must go, I +suppose.” + +“And you, Ralph?” + +Ralph raised himself in his chair. + +“Do you wish me to say what I think?” he asked deliberately, “or what +Chris wishes me to say? I will do either.” + +Chris made a quick movement of his head; but his father answered for +him. + +“We wish you to say what you think,” he said quietly. + +“Well, then,” said Ralph, “it is this. I cannot agree with the father. I +think the woman is neither of God nor Satan; but that she speaks of her +own heart, and of Dr. Bocking’s. I believe they are a couple of +knaves--clever knaves, I will grant, though perhaps the woman is +something of a fool too; for she deceives persons as wise even as Mr. +Carleton here by speaking of shrift and the like; and so she does the +priests’ will, and hopes to get gain for them and herself. I am not +alone in thinking this--there are many in town who think with me, and +holy persons too.” + +“Is Master Cromwell one of them?” put in Chris bitterly. + +Ralph raised his eyebrows a little. + +“There is no use in sneering,” he said, “but Master Cromwell is one of +them. I suppose I ought not to speak of this; but I know you will not +speak of it again; and I can tell you of my own knowledge that the Holy +Maid will not be at St. Sepulchre’s much longer.” + +His father leaned forward. + +“Do you mean--” he began. + +“I mean that His Grace is weary of her prophesyings. It was all very +well till she began to meddle with matters of State; but His Grace will +have none of that. I can tell you no more. On the other hand if Chris +thinks he must be a monk, well and good; I do not think so myself; but +that is not my affair; but I hope he will not be a monk only because a +knavish woman has put out her tongue at him, and repeated what a knavish +priest has put into her mouth. But I suppose he had made up his mind +before he asked me.” + +“He has made up his mind,” said his father, “and will hold to it unless +reason is shown to the contrary; and for myself I think he is right.” + +“Very well, then,” said Ralph; and leaned back once more. + +The minutes passed away in silence for a while; and then Ralph asked a +question or two about his sisters. + +“Mary is coming over to hunt to-morrow with her husband,” said Sir +James. “I have told Forrest to be here by nine o’clock. Shall you come +with us?” + +Ralph yawned, and sipped his Bordeaux. + +“I do not know,” he said, “I suppose so.” + +“And Margaret is at Rusper still,” went on the other. “She will not be +here until August.” + +“She, too, is thinking of Religion,” put in Lady Torridon impassively. + +Ralph looked up lazily. + +“Indeed,” he said, “then Mary and I will be the only worldlings.” + +“She is very happy with the nuns,” said his father, smiling, “and a +worldling can be no more than that; and perhaps not always as much.” + +Ralph smiled with one corner of his mouth. + +“You are quite right, sir,” he said. + +The bell for evening prayers sounded out presently from the turret in +the chapel-corner, and the chaplain rose and went out. + +“Will you forgive me, sir,” said Ralph, “if I do not come this evening? +I am worn out with travelling. The stay at Begham was very troublesome.” + +“Good-night, then, my son. I will send Morris to you immediately.” + +“Oh, after prayers,” said Ralph. “I need not deprive God of his prayers +too.” + + * * * * * + +Lady Torridon had gone out silently after the chaplain, and Sir James +and Chris walked across the Court together. Overhead the summer night +sky was clear and luminous with stars, and the air still and fragrant. +There were a few lights here and there round the Court, and the tall +chapel windows shone dimly above the little cloister. A link flared +steadily on its iron bracket by the door into the hall, and threw waves +of flickering ruddy light across the cobble-stones, and the shadow of +the tall pump wavered on the further side. + +Sir James put his hand tenderly on Chris’ shoulder. + +“You must not be angry at Ralph, my son,” he said. “Remember he does not +understand.” + +“He should not speak like that,” said Chris fiercely. “How dare he do +so?” + +“Of course he should not; but he does not know that. He thinks he is +advising you well. You must let him alone, Chris. You must remember he +is almost mad with business. Master Cromwell works him hard.” + + * * * * * + +The chapel was but dimly lighted as Chris made his way up to the high +gallery at the west where he usually knelt. The altar glimmered in the +dusk at the further end, and only a couple of candles burned on the +priest’s kneeling stool on the south side. The rest was dark, for the +house hold knew compline by heart; and even before Chris reached his +seat he heard the blessing asked for a quiet night and a perfect end. It +was very soothing to him as he leaned over the oak rail and looked down +on the dim figures of his parents in their seat at the front, and the +heads of the servants below, and listened to the quiet pulsation of +those waves of prayer going to and fro in the dusk, beating, as a summer +tide at the foot of a cliff against those white steps that rose up to +the altar where a single spark winked against the leaded window beneath +the silk-shrouded pyx. He had come home full of excitement and joy at +his first sight of an ecstatic, and at the message that she had seemed +to have for him, and across these heightened perceptions had jarred the +impatience of his brother in the inn at Begham and in the carriage on +their way home, and above all his sharp criticism and aloofness in the +parlour just now. But he became quieter as he knelt now; the bitterness +seemed to sink beneath him and to leave him alone in a world of +peaceful glory--the world of mystic life to which his face was now set, +illuminated by the words of the nun. He had seen one who could see +further than he himself; he had looked upon eyes that were fixed on +mysteries and realms in which he indeed passionately believed, but which +were apt to be faint and formless sometimes to the weary eyes of faith +alone; and as a proof that these were more than fancies she had told him +too of what he could verify--of the priory at Lewes which she had never +visited, and even the details of the ring on the Prior’s finger which he +alone of the two had seen. And then lastly she had encouraged him in his +desires, had seen him with those same wide eyes in the habit that he +longed to wear, going about the psalmody--the great _Opus Dei_--to which +he longed to consecrate his life. If such were not a message from God to +him for what further revelation could he hope? + +And as for Ralph’s news and interests, of what value were they? Of what +importance was it to ask who sat on the Consort’s throne, or whether she +wore purple velvet or red? These were little matters compared with those +high affairs of the soul and the Eternal God, of which he was already +beginning to catch glimpses, and even the whispers that ran about the +country places and of which Ralph no doubt could tell him much if he +chose, of the danger that threatened the religious houses, and of +Henry’s intentions towards them--even these were but impotent cries of +the people raging round the throne of the Anointed. + +So he knelt here now, pacified and content again, and thought with +something of pity of his brother dozing now no doubt before the parlour +fire, cramped by his poor ideals and dismally happy in his limitations. + +His father, too, was content down below in the chapel. He himself had +at one time before his marriage looked towards the religious life; and +now that it had turned out otherwise had desired nothing more than that +he should be represented in that inner world of God’s favourites by at +least one of his children. His daughter Margaret had written a week +earlier to say that her mind was turning that way, and now Christopher’s +decision had filled up the cup of his desires. To have a priest for a +son, and above all one who was a monk as well was more than he had dared +to hope, though not to pray for; if he could not be one himself, at +least he had begotten one--one who would represent him before God, bring +a blessing on the house, and pray and offer sacrifice for his soul until +his time should be run out and he see God face to face. And Ralph would +represent him before men and carry on the line, and hand on the house to +a third generation--Ralph, at whom he had felt so sorely puzzled of +late, for he seemed full of objects and ambitions for which the father +had very little sympathy, and to have lost almost entirely that delicate +relation with home that was at once so indefinable and so real. But he +comforted himself by the thought that his elder son was not wholly +wasting time as so many of the country squires were doing round about, +absorbed in work that a brainless yeoman could do with better success. +Ralph at least was occupied with grave matters, in Cromwell’s service +and the King’s, and entrusted with high secrets the issue of which both +temporal and eternal it was hard to predict. And, no doubt, the knight +thought, in time he would come back and pick up the strands he had +dropped; for when a man had wife and children of his own to care for, +other businesses must seem secondary; and questions that could be +ignored before must be faced then. + +But he thought with a little anxiety of his wife, and wondered whether +his elder son had not after all inherited that kind of dry rot of the +soul, in which the sap and vigour disappear little by little, leaving +the shape indeed intact but not the powers. When he had married her, +thirty-five years before, she had seemed to him an incarnate mystery of +whose key he was taking possession--her silence had seemed pregnant with +knowledge, and her words precious pieces from an immeasurable treasury; +and then little by little he had found that the wide treasury was empty, +clean indeed and capacious, but no more, and above all with no promise +of any riches as yet unperceived. Those great black eyes, that high +forehead, those stately movements, meant nothing; it was a splendid +figure with no soul within. She did her duty admirably, she said her +prayers, she entertained her guests with the proper conversation, she +could be trusted to behave well in any circumstances that called for +tact or strength; and that was all. But Ralph would not be like that; he +was intensely devoted to his work, and from all accounts able in its +performance; and more than that, with all his impassivity he was capable +of passion; for his employer Sir Thomas Cromwell was to Ralph’s eyes, +his father had begun to see, something almost more than human. A word +against that master of his would set his eyes blazing and his voice +trembling; and this showed that at least the soul was not more than +sleeping, or its powers more than misdirected. + +And meanwhile there was Chris; and at the thought the father lifted his +eyes to the gallery, and saw the faint outline of his son’s brown head +against the whitewash. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A FORETASTE OF PEACE + + +It was not until the party was riding home the next day that Sir +Nicholas Maxwell and his wife were informed of Chris’ decision. + + * * * * * + +They had had a fair day’s sport in the two estates that marched with one +another between Overfield and Great Keynes, and about fifteen stags had +been killed as well as a quantity of smaller game. + +Ralph had ridden out after the party had left, and had found Sir +Nicholas at the close of the afternoon just as the last drive was about +to take place; and had stepped into his shelter to watch the finish. It +was a still, hot afternoon, and the air over the open space between the +copse in which they stood and the dense forest eighty yards away danced +in the heat. + +Ralph nodded to his brother-in-law, who was flushed and sunburnt, and +then stood behind, running his eyes up and down that sturdy figure with +the tightly-gaitered legs set well apart and the little feathered cap +that moved this way and that as the sportsman peered through the +branches before him. Once he turned fierce eyes backwards at the whine +of one of the hounds, and then again thrust his hot dripping face into +the greenery. + +Then very far away came a shout, and a chorus of taps and cries followed +it, sounding from a couple of miles away as the beaters after sweeping +a wide circle entered the thick undergrowth on the opposite side of the +wood. Sir Nicholas’ legs trembled, and he shifted his position a little, +half lifting his strong spliced hunting bow as he did so. + +For a few minutes there was silence about them except for the distant +cries, and once for the stamp of a horse behind them. Then Sir Nicholas +made a quick movement, and dropped his hands again; a single rabbit had +cantered out from the growth opposite, and sat up with cocked ears +staring straight at the deadly shelter. Then another followed; and again +in a sudden panic the two little furry bodies whisked back into cover. + +Ralph marvelled at this strange passion that could set a reasonable man +twitching and panting like the figure in front of him. He himself was a +good rider, and a sufficiently keen hunter when his blood was up; but +this brother-in-law of his seemed to live for little else. Day after +day, as Ralph knew, from the beginning of the season to the end he was +out with his men and hounds, and the rest of the year he seemed to spend +in talking about the sport, fingering and oiling his weapons through +long mornings, and elaborating future campaigns, in which the quarries’ +chances should be reduced to a minimum. + + * * * * * + +On a sudden Sir Nicholas’s figure stiffened and then relaxed. A doe had +stepped out noiselessly from the cover, head up and feet close together, +sniffing up wind--and they were shooting no does this month. Then again +she moved along against the thick undergrowth, stepping delicately and +silently, and vanished without a sound a hundred yards along to the +left. + +The cries and taps were sounding nearer now, and at any moment the game +might appear. Sir Nicholas shifted his position again a little, and +simultaneously the scolding voice of a blackbird rang out in front, and +he stopped again. At the same moment a hare, mad with fright, burst out +of the cover, making straight for the shelter. Sir Nicholas’ hands rose, +steady now the crisis had come; and Ralph leaning forward touched him on +the shoulder and pointed. + +A great stag was standing in the green gloom within the wood eighty +yards away, with a couple of does at his flank. Then as a shout sounded +out near at hand, he bolted towards the shelter in a line that would +bring him close to it. Ralph crouched down, for he had left his bow with +his man an hour earlier, and one of the hounds gave a stifled yelp as +Nicholas straightened himself and threw out his left foot. Either the +sound or the movement startled the great brown beast in front, and as +the arrow twanged from the string he checked and wheeled round, and went +off like the wind, untouched. A furious hiss of the breath broke from +Nicholas, and he made a swift sign as he turned to his horse; and in a +moment the two lithe hounds had leapt from the shelter and were flying +in long noiseless leaps after the disappearing quarry; the does, +confused by the change of direction, had whisked back into cover. A +moment later Nicholas too was after the hounds, his shoulders working +and his head thrust forward, and a stirrup clashed and jingled against +the saddle. + +Ralph sat down on the ground smiling. It gave him a certain pleasure to +see such a complete discomfiture; Nicholas was always so amusingly angry +when he failed, and so full of reasons. + +The forest was full of noises now; a crowd of starlings were protesting +wildly overhead, there were shouts far away and the throb of hoofs, and +the ground game was pouring out of the undergrowth and dispersing in +all directions. Once a boar ran past, grumbling as he went, turning a +wicked and resentful eye on the placid gentleman in green who sat on the +ground, but who felt for his long dirk as he saw the fury on the brute’s +face and the foam on the tusks. But the pig thought discretion was best, +and hurried on complaining. More than one troop of deer flew past, the +does gathered round their lord to protect him, all swerving together +like a string of geese as they turned the corner of the shelter and +caught sight of Ralph; but the beaters were coming out now, whistling +and talking as they came, and gathering into groups of two or three on +the ground, for the work was done, and it had been hot going. + +Mary Maxwell appeared presently on her grey horse, looking slender and +dignified in her green riding-suit with the great plume shading her +face, and rode up to Ralph whom she had seen earlier in the afternoon. + +“My husband?” she enquired looking down at Ralph who was lying with his +hat over his eyes. + +“He left me just now,” said her brother, “very hot and red, after a stag +which he missed. That will mean some conversation to-night, Minnie.” + +She smiled down at him. + +“I shall agree with him, you know,” she said. + +“Of course you will; it is but right. And I suppose I shall too.” + +“Will you wait for him? Tell him we are going home by the mill. It is +all over now.” + +Ralph nodded, and Mary moved off down the glade to join the others. + +Ralph began to wonder how Nicholas would take the news of Chris’ +decision. Mary, he knew very well, would assent to it quietly as she +did to all normal events, even though they were not what she would have +wished; and probably her husband would assent too, for he had a great +respect for a churchman. For himself his opinions were divided and he +scarcely knew what he thought. From the temporal point of view Chris’ +step would be an advantage to him, for the vow of poverty would put an +end to any claims upon the estate on the part of the younger son; but +Ralph was sufficiently generous not to pay much attention to this. From +the social point of view, no great difference would be made; it was as +respectable to have a monk for a brother as a small squire, and Chris +could never be more than this unless he made a good marriage. From the +spiritual point of view--and here Ralph stopped and wondered whether it +was very seriously worth considering. It was the normal thing of course +to believe in the sublimity of the religious life and its peculiar +dignity; but the new learning was beginning to put questions on the +subject that had very considerably affected the normal view in Ralph’s +eyes. In that section of society where new ideas are generated and to +which Ralph himself belonged, there were very odd tales being told; and +it was beginning to be thought possible that monasticism had +over-reached itself, and that in trying to convert the world it had +itself been converted by the world. Ralph was proud enough of the honour +of his family to wonder whether it was an unmixed gain that his own +brother should join such ranks as these. And lastly there were the facts +that he had learnt from his association with Cromwell that made him +hesitate more than ever in giving Chris his sympathy. He had been +thinking these points over in the parlour the night before when the +others had left him, and during the day in the intervals of the sport; +and he was beginning to come to the conclusion that all things +considered he had better just acquiesce in the situation, and neither +praise nor blame overmuch. + +It was a sleepy afternoon. The servants had all gone by now, and the +horn-blowings and noises had died away in the direction of the mill; +there was no leisure for stags to bray, as they crouched now far away in +the bracken, listening large-eyed and trumpet-eared for the sounds of +pursuit; only the hum of insect life in the hot evening sunshine filled +the air; and Ralph began to fall asleep, his back against a fallen +trunk. + +Then he suddenly awakened and saw his brother-in-law, black against the +sky, looking down at him, from the saddle. + +“Well?” said Ralph, not moving. + +Nicholas began to explain. There were a hundred reasons, it seemed, for +his coming home empty-handed; and where were his men? + +“They are all gone home,” said Ralph, getting up and stretching himself. +“I waited for you. It is all over.” + +“You understand,” said Nicholas, putting his horse into motion, and +beginning to explain all over again, “you understand that it had not +been for that foul hound yelping, I should have had him here. I never +miss such a shot; and then when we went after him--” + +“I understand perfectly, Nick,” said Ralph. “You missed him because you +did not shoot straight, and you did not catch him because you did not go +fast enough. A lawyer could say no more.” + +Nicholas threw back his head and laughed loudly, for the two were good +friends. + +“Well, if you will have it,” he said, “I was a damned fool. There! A +lawyer dare not say as much--not to me, at any rate.” + +Ralph found his man half a mile further on coming to meet him with his +horse, and he mounted and rode on with Nicholas towards the mill. + +“I have something to tell you,” he said presently. “Chris is to be a +monk.” + +“Mother of God!” cried Nicholas, half checking his horse, “and when was +that arranged?” + +“Last night,” went on Ralph. “He went to see the Holy Maid at St. +Sepulchre’s, and it seems that she told him he had a vocation; so there +is an end of it.” + +“And what do you all think of it?” asked the other. + +“Oh! I suppose he knows his business.” + +Nicholas asked a number of questions, and was informed that Chris +proposed to go to Lewes in a month’s time. He was already twenty-three, +the Prior had given his conditional consent before, and there was no +need for waiting. Yes, they were Cluniacs; but Ralph believed that they +were far from strict just at present. It need not be the end of Chris so +far as this world was concerned. + +“But you must not say that to him,” he went on, “he thinks it is heaven +itself between four walls, and we shall have a great scene of farewell. +I think I must go back to town before it takes place: I cannot do that +kind of thing.” + +Nicholas was not attending, and rode on in silence for a few yards, +sucking in his lower lip. + +“We are lucky fellows, you and I,” he said at last, “to have a monk to +pray for us.” + +Ralph glanced at him, for he was perfectly grave, and a rather intent +and awed look was in his eyes. + +“I think a deal of that,” he went on, “though I cannot talk to a +churchman as I should. I had a terrible time with my Lord of Canterbury +last year, at Oxford. He was not a hunter like this one, and I knew not +what else to speak of.” + +Ralph’s eyes narrowed with amusement. + +“What did you say to him?” he asked. + +“I forget,” said Nicholas, “and I hope my lord did. Mary told me I +behaved like a fool. But this one is better, I hear. He is at Ashford +now with his hounds.” + +They talked a little more about Chris, and Ralph soon saw on which side +Nicholas ranged himself. It was an unfeigned pleasure to this hunting +squire to have a monk for a brother-in-law; there was no knowing how +short purgatory might not be for them all under the circumstances. + +It was evident, too, when they came up with the others a couple of miles +further on, that Nicholas’s attitude towards the young man had undergone +a change. He looked at him with a deep respect, refrained from +criticising his bloodless hands, and was soon riding on in front beside +him, talking eagerly and deferentially, while Ralph followed with Mary +and his father. + +“You have heard?” he said to her presently. + +“Father has just told me,” she said. “We are very much pleased--dear +Chris!” + +“And then there is Meg,” put in her father. + +“Oh! Meg; yes, I knew she would. She is made for a nun.” + +Sir James edged his horse in presently close to Ralph, as Mary went in +front through a narrow opening in the wood. + +“Be good to him,” he said. “He thinks so much of you.” + +Ralph glanced up and smiled into the tender keen eyes that were looking +into his own. + +“Why, of course, sir,” he said. + + * * * * * + +It was an immense pleasure to Chris to notice the difference in +Nicholas’s behaviour towards him. There was none of that loud and +cheerful rallying that stood for humour, no criticisms of his riding or +his costume. The squire asked him a hundred questions, almost nervously, +about the Holy Maid and himself, and what had passed between them. + +“They say the Host was carried to her through the air from Calais, +Chris, when the King was there. Did you hear her speak of that?” + +Chris shook his head. + +“There was not time,” he said. + +“And then there was the matter of the divorce--” Nicholas turned his +head slightly; “Ralph cannot hear us, can he? Well--the matter of the +divorce--I hear she denounced that, and would have none of it, and has +written to the Pope, too.” + +“They were saying something of the kind,” said Chris, “but I thought it +best not to meddle.” + +“And what did she say to you?” + +Chris told him the story, and Nicholas’s eyes grew round and fixed as he +listened; his mouth was a little open, and he murmured inarticulate +comments as they rode together up from the mill. + +“Lord!” he said at last, “and she said all that about hell. God save us! +And her tongue out of her mouth all the while! And did you see anything +yourself? No devils or angels?” + +“I saw nothing,” said Chris. “I just listened, but she saw them.” + +“Lord!” said Nicholas again, and rode on in profound silence. + +The Maxwells were to stay to supper at the Court; and drive home +afterwards; so there was no opportunity for Chris to go down and bathe +in the lake as he usually did in summer after a day’s hunting, for +supper was at seven o’clock, and he had scarcely more than time to +dress. + +Nicholas was very talkative at supper, and poured out all that Chris had +told him, with his usual lack of discretion; for the other had already +told the others once all the details that he thought would interest +them. + +“They were talking about the divorce,” he broke out, and then stopped +and eyed Ralph craftily; “but I had better not speak of that here--eh, +Chris?” + +Ralph looked blandly at his plate. + +“Chris did not mention that,” he said. “Tell us, Nick.” + +“No, no,” cried Nicholas. “I do not want you to go with tales to town. +Your ears are too quick, my friend. Then there was that about the Host +flying from Calais, eh, Chris? No, no; you said you had heard nothing of +that.” + +Chris looked up and his face was a little flushed. + +“No, Nick,” he said. + +“There seems to have been a great deal that Chris did not tell us--” +began Ralph. + +Sir James glanced swiftly from his seat under the canopy. + +“He told us all that was needed,” he said. + +“Aha!” broke out Nicholas again, “but the Holy Maid said that the King +would not live six months if he--” + +Chris’s face was full of despair and misery, and his father interrupted +once more. + +“We had better not speak of that, my son,” he said to Nicholas. “It is +best to leave such things alone.” + +Ralph was smiling broadly with tight lips by now. + +“By my soul, Nick, you are the maddest wind-bag I have ever heard. All +our heads might go for what you have said to-night. Thank God the +servants are gone.” + +“Nick,” cried Mary imploringly, “do hold your tongue.” + +Lady Torridon looked from one to the other with serene amusement, and +there was an odd pause such as generally fell when she showed signs of +speaking. Her lips moved but she said nothing, and ran her eyes over the +silver flagons before her. + +When the Maxwells had gone at last, and prayers were over, Chris slipped +across the Court with a towel, and went up to the priest’s room over the +sacristy. Mr. Carleton looked up from his lamp and rose. + +“Yes, Chris,” he said, “I will come. The moon will be up soon.” + +They went down together through the sacristy door on to the level +plateaux of lawns that stretched step after step down to the dark lake. +The sky was ablaze with stars, and in the East there was a growing light +in the quarter where the moon was at its rising. The woods beyond the +water were blotted masses against the sky; and the air was full of the +rich fragrance of the summer night. The two said very little, and the +priest stopped on the bank as Chris stepped out along the little boarded +pier that ran out among the rushes into deep water. There was a scurry +and a cry, and a moor-hen dashed out from under cover, and sped across +the pond, scattering the silver points that hung there motionless, +reflected from the heaven overhead. + +Chris was soon ready, and stood there a moment, a pale figure in the +gloom, watching the shining dots rock back again in the ripples to +motionlessness. Then he lifted his hands and plunged. + +It seemed to him, as he rose to the surface again, as if he were +swimming between two sides. As he moved softly out across the middle, +and a little ripple moved before him, the water was invisible. There was +only a fathomless gulf, as deep below as the sky was high above, pricked +with stars. As he turned his head this way and that the great trees, +high overhead, seemed less real than those two immeasurable spaces above +and beneath. There was a dead silence everywhere, only broken by the +faint suck of the water over his shoulder, and an indescribably sweet +coolness that thrilled him like a strain of music. Under its influence, +again, as last night, the tangible, irritating world seemed to sink out +of his soul; here he was, a living creature alone in a great silence +with God, and nothing else was of any importance. + +He turned on his back, and there was the dark figure on the bank +watching him, and above it the great towered house, with its half-dozen +lighted windows along its eastern side, telling him of the world of men +and passion. + +“Look,” came the priest’s voice, and he turned again, and over the +further bank, between two tall trees, shone a great silver rim of the +rising moon. A path of glory was struck now across the black water, and +he pleased himself by travelling up it towards the remote splendour, +noticing as he went how shadows had sprung into being in that moment, +and how the same light that made the glory made the dark as well. His +soul seemed to emerge a stage higher yet from the limits in which the +hot day and the shouting and the horns and the crowded woods had +fettered it. How remote and little seemed Ralph’s sneers and Nicholas’s +indiscretions and Mary’s pity! Here he moved round in a cooler and +serener mood. That keen mood, whether physical or spiritual he did not +care to ask, made him inarticulate as he walked up with the priest ten +minutes later. But Mr. Carleton seemed to understand. + +“There are some things besides the divorce best not talked about,” he +said, “and I think bathing by starlight is one of them.” + +They passed under the chapel window presently, and Chris noticed with an +odd sensation of pleasure the little translucent patch of colour between +the slender mullions thrown by the lamp within--a kind of reflex or +anti-type of the broad light shining over the water. + +“Come up for a while,” went on the priest, as they reached the +side-entrance, “if you are not too tired.” + +The two went through the sacristy-door, locking it behind them, and up +the winding stairs in the turret at the corner to the priest’s chamber. +Chris threw himself down, relaxed and happy, in the tall chair by the +window, where he could look out and see the moon, clear of the trees +now, riding high in heaven. + +“That was a pity at supper,” said the priest presently, as he sat at the +table. “I love Sir Nicholas and think him a good Christian, but he is +scarcely a discreet one.” + +“Tell me, father,” broke out Chris, “what is going to happen?” + +Mr. Carleton looked at him smiling. He had a pleasant ugly face, with +little kind eyes and sensitive mouth. + +“You must ask Mr. Ralph,” he said, “or rather you must not. But he knows +more than any of us.” + +“I wish he would not speak like that.” + +“Dear lad,” said the priest, “you must not feel it like that. Remember +our Lord bore contempt as well as pain.” + +There was silence a moment, and then Chris began again. “Tell me about +Lewes, father. What will it be like?” + +“It will be bitterly hard,” said the priest deliberately. “Christ Church +was too bitter for me, as you know. I came out after six months, and the +Cluniacs are harder. I do not know if I lost my vocation or found it; +but I am not the man to advise you in either case.” + +“Ralph thinks it is easy enough. He told me last night in the carriage +that I need not trouble myself, and that monks had a very pleasant time. +He began to tell me some tale about Glastonbury, but I would not hear +it.” + +“Ah,” said the chaplain regretfully, “the world’s standard for monks is +always high. But you will find it hard enough, especially in the first +year. But, as I said, I am not the man to advise you--I failed.” + +Chris looked at him with something of pity in his heart, as the priest +fingered the iron pen on the table, and stared with pursed lips and +frowning forehead. The chaplain was extraordinarily silent in public, +just carrying on sufficient conversation not to be peculiar or to seem +morose, but he spoke more freely to Chris, and would often spend an hour +or two in mysterious talk with Sir James. Chris’s father had a very +marked respect for the priest, and had had more than one sharp word with +his wife, ten years before when he had first come to the house, and had +found Lady Torridon prepared to treat her chaplain with the kind of +respect that she gave to her butler. But the chaplain’s position was +secured by now, owing in a large measure to his own tact and +unobtrusiveness, and he went about the house a quiet, sedate figure of +considerable dignity and impressiveness, performing his duties +punctually and keeping his counsel. He had been tutor to both the sons +for a while, to Ralph only for a few months, but to Chris since his +twelfth birthday, and the latter had formed with him a kind of peaceful +confederacy, often looking in on him at unusual hours, always finding +him genial, although very rarely confidential. It was to Mr. Carleton, +too, that Chris owed his first drawings to the mystical life of prayer; +there was a shelf of little books in the corner by the window of the +priest’s room, from which he would read to the boy aloud, first +translating them into English as he went, and then, as studies +progressed, reading the Latin as it stood; and that mysteriously +fascinating world in which great souls saw and heard eternal things and +talked familiarly with the Saviour and His Blessed Mother had first +dawned on the boy there. New little books, too, appeared from time to +time, and the volumes had overflowed their original home; and from that +fact Christopher gathered that the priest, though he had left the +external life of Religion, still followed after the elusive spirit that +was its soul. + +“But tell me,” he said again, as the priest laid the pen down and sat +back in his chair, crossing his buckled feet beneath the cassock; “tell +me, why is it so hard? I am not afraid of the discipline or the food.” + +“It is the silence,” said the priest, looking at him. + +“I love silence,” said Chris eagerly. + +“Yes, you love an hour or two, or there would be no hope of a vocation +for you. But I do not think you will love a year. However, I may be +wrong. But it is the day after day that is difficult. And there is no +relaxation; not even in the infirmary. You will have to learn signs in +your novitiate; that is almost the first exercise.” + +The priest got up and fetched a little book from the corner cupboard. + +“Listen,” he said, and then began to read aloud the instructions laid +down for the sign-language of novices; how they were to make a circle in +the air for bread since it was round, a motion of drinking for water, +and so forth. + +“You see,” he said, “you are not even allowed to speak when you ask for +necessaries. And, you know, silence has its peculiar temptations as well +as its joys. There is accidie and scrupulousness and contempt of +others, and a host of snares that you know little of now.” + +“But--” began Chris. + +“Oh, yes; it has its joys, and gives a peculiar strength.” + +Chris knew, of course, well enough by now in an abstract way what the +Religious discipline would mean, but he wished to have it made more +concrete by examples, and he sat long with the chaplain asking him +questions. Mr. Carleton had been, as he said, in the novitiate at +Canterbury for a few months, and was able to tell him a good deal about +the life there; but the differences between the Augustinians and the +Cluniacs made it impossible for him to go with any minuteness into the +life of the Priory at Lewes. He warned him, however, of the tendency +that every soul found in silence to think itself different from others, +and of so peculiar a constitution that ordinary rules did not apply to +it. He laid so much stress on this that the other was astonished. + +“But it is true,” said Chris, “no two souls are the same.” + +The priest smiled. + +“Yes, that is true, too; no two sheep are the same, but the sheep nature +is one, and you will have to learn that for yourself. A Religious rule +is drawn up for many, not for one; and each must learn to conform +himself. It was through that I failed myself; I remembered that I was +different from others, and forgot that I was the same.” + +Mr. Carleton seemed to take a kind of melancholy pleasure in returning +to what he considered his own failure, and Chris began to wonder whether +the thought of it was not the secret of that slight indication to +moroseness that he had noticed in him. + +The moon was high and clear by now, and Chris often leaned his cheek on +the sash as the priest talked, and watched that steady shining shield +go up the sky, and the familiar view of lawns and water and trees, +ghostly and mystical now in the pale light. + +The Court was silent as he passed through it near midnight, as the +household had been long in bed; the flaring link had been extinguished +two hours before, and the shadows of the tall chimneys lay black and +precise at his feet across the great whiteness on the western side of +the yard. Again the sense of the smallness of himself and his +surroundings, of the vastness of all else, poured over his soul; these +little piled bricks and stones, the lawns and woods round about, even +England and the world itself, he thought, as his mind shot out towards +the stars and the unfathomable spaces--all these were but very tiny +things, negligeable quantities, when he looked at them in the eternal +light. It was this thought, after all, that was calling him out of the +world, and had been calling him fitfully ever since his soul awoke eight +years ago, and knew herself and her God: and his heart expanded and grew +tremulous as he remembered once more that his vocation had been sealed +by a divine messenger, and that he would soon be gone out of this little +cell into the wide silent liberty of the most dear children of God. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE ARRIVAL AT LEWES + + +Ralph relented as the month drew on, and was among those who wished +Chris good-bye on the afternoon of the July day on which he was to +present himself at Lewes. The servants were all drawn up at the back of +the terrace against the hall, watching Ralph, even more than his +departing brother, with the fascinated interest that the discreet and +dignified friend of Cromwell always commanded. Ralph was at his best on +such occasions, genial and natural, and showed a pleasing interest in +the girths of the two horses, and the exact strapping of the couple of +bags that Chris was to take with him. His own man, too, Mr. Morris, who +had been with him ever since he had come to London, was to ride with +Chris, at his master’s express wish; stay with him in the guest-house +that night, and return with the two horses and a precise report the next +morning. + +“You have the hares for my Lord Prior,” he said impressively, looking at +the game that was hanging head downwards from the servant’s saddle. +“Tell him that they were killed on Tuesday.” + +Sir James and his younger son were walking together a few yards away in +deep talk; and Lady Torridon had caused a chair to be set for her at the +top of the terrace steps where she could at once do her duty as a +mother, and be moderately comfortable at the same time. She hardly spoke +at all, but looked gravely with her enigmatic black eyes at the horses’ +legs and the luggage, and once held up her hand to silence a small dog +that had begun to yelp with excitement. + +“They must be going,” said Ralph, when all was ready; and at the same +moment Chris and his father came up, Sir James’s arm thrown over his +son’s shoulders. + +The farewells were very short; it was impossible to indulge in sentiment +in the genial business-atmosphere generated by Ralph, and a minute later +Chris was mounted. Sir James said no more, but stood a little apart +looking at his son. Lady Torridon smiled rather pleasantly and nodded +her head two or three times, and Ralph, with Mr. Carleton, stood on the +gravel below, his hand on Chris’s crupper, smiling up at him. + +“Good-bye, Chris,” he said, and added with an unusual piety, “God keep +you!” + +As the two horses passed through the gatehouse, Chris turned once again +with swimming eyes, and saw the group a little re-arranged. Sir James +and Ralph were standing together, Ralph’s arm thrust through his +father’s; Mr. Carleton was still on the gravel, and Lady Torridon was +walking very deliberately back to the house. + + * * * * * + +The distance to Lewes was about fourteen miles, and it was not until +they had travelled some two of them, and had struck off towards Burgess +Hill that Chris turned his head for Mr. Morris to come up. + +It was very strange to him to ride through that familiar country, where +he had ridden hundreds of times before, and to know that this was +probably the last time that he would pass along those lanes, at least +under the same circumstances. It had the same effect on him, as a death +in the house would have; the familiar things were the same, but they +wore a new and strange significance. The few men and children he passed +saluted him deferentially as usual, and then turned fifty yards further +on and stared at the young gentleman who, as they knew, was riding off +on such an errand, and with such grave looks. + +Mr. Morris came up with an eager respectfulness at Chris’s sign, keeping +a yard or two away lest the swinging luggage on his own horse should +discompose the master, and answered a formal question or two about the +roads and the bags, which Chris put to him as a gambit of conversation. +The servant was clever and well trained, and knew how to modulate his +attitude to the precise degree of deference due to his master and his +master’s relations; he had entered Ralph’s service from Cromwell’s own +eight years before. He liked nothing better than to talk of London and +his experiences there, and selected with considerable skill the topics +that he knew would please in each case. Now he was soon deep on the +subject of Wolsey, pausing respectfully now and again for corroboration, +or to ask a question the answer to which he knew a good deal better than +Chris himself. + +“I understand, sir, that the Lord Cardinal had a wonderful deal of +furniture at York House: I saw some of it at Master Cromwell’s; his +grace sent it to him, at least, so I heard. Is that so, sir?” + +Chris said he did not know. + +“Well, I believe it was so, sir; there was a chair there, set with +agates and pearl, that I think I heard Mr. Ralph say had come from +there. Did you ever see my lord, sir?” + +Chris said he had seen him once in a narrow street at Westminster, but +the crowd was so great he could not get near. + +“Ah! sir; then you never saw him go in state. I remember once seeing +him, sir, going down to Hampton Court, with his gentlemen bearing the +silver pillars before him, and the two priests with crosses. What might +the pillars mean, sir?” + +Again Chris confessed he did not know. + +“Ah, sir!” said Morris reflectively, as if he had received a +satisfactory answer. “And there was his saddle, Mr. Christopher, with +silver-gilt stirrups, and red velvet, set on my lord’s mule. And there +was the Red Hat borne in front by another gentleman. At mass, too, he +would be served by none under the rank of an earl; and I heard that he +would have a duke sometimes for his lavabo. I heard Mr. Ralph say that +there was more than a hundred and fifty carts that went with the Lord +Cardinal up to Cawood, and that was after the King’s grace had broken +with him, sir; and he was counted a poor man.” + +Chris asked what was in the carts. + +“Just his stuff, sir,” said Mr. Morris reverentially. + +The servant seemed to take a melancholy pleasure in recounting these +glories, but was most discreet about the political aspects of Wolsey, +although Chris tried hard to get him to speak, and he would neither +praise nor blame the fallen prelate; he was more frank, however, about +Campeggio, who as an Italian, was a less dangerous target. + +“He was not a good man, I fear, Mr. Christopher. They told some very +queer tales of him when he was over here. But he could ride, sir, Master +Maxwell’s man told me, near as well as my Lord of Canterbury himself. +You know they say, sir, that the Archbishop can ride horses that none of +his grooms can manage. But I never liked to think that a foreigner was +to be sent over to do our business for us, and more than ever not such +an one as that.” + +He proceeded to talk a good deal about Campeggio; his red silk and his +lace, his gout, his servants, his un-English ways; but it began to get a +little tiresome to Chris, and soon after passing through Ditchling, Mr. +Morris, having pointed across the country towards Fatton Hovel, and +having spoken of the ghost of a cow that was seen there with two heads, +one black and one white, fell gradually behind again, and Chris rode +alone. + +They were coming up now towards the downs, and the great rounded green +shoulders heaved high against the sky, gashed here and there by white +strips and patches where the chalk glared in the bright afternoon sun. +Ditchling beacon rose to their right, a hundred feet higher than the +surrounding hills, and the high country sloped away from it parallel +with their road, down to Lewes. The shadows were beginning to lie +eastwards and to lengthen in long blue hollows and streaks against the +clear green turf. + +Chris wondered when he would see that side of the downs again; his ride +was like a kind of farewell progress, and all that he looked on was +dearer than it had ever been before, but he comforted himself by the +thought of that larger world, so bright with revelation and so +enchanting in its mystery that lay before him. He pleased himself by +picturing this last journey as a ride through an overhung lane, +beautiful indeed, but dusky, towards shining gates beyond which lay +great tracts of country set with palaces alive with wonderful presences, +and watered by the very river of life. + +He did not catch sight of Lewes until he was close upon it, and it +suddenly opened out beneath him, with its crowded roofs pricked by a +dozen spires, the Norman castle on its twin mounds towering to his left, +a silver gleam of the Ouse here and there between the plaster and timber +houses as the river wound beneath its bridges, and beyond all the vast +masses of the Priory straight in front of him to the South of the town, +the church in front with its tall central tower, a huddle of convent +roofs behind, all white against the rich meadows that lay beyond the +stream. + +Mr. Morris came up as Chris checked his horse here. + +“See, Mr. Christopher,” he said, and the other turned to see the town +gallows on the right of the road, not fifty yards away, with a ragged +shape or two hanging there, and a great bird rising heavily and winging +its way into the west. Mr. Morris’s face bore a look of judicial +satisfaction. + +“We are making a sweep of them,” he said, and as a terrible figure, all +rags and sores, with blind red eyes and toothless mouth rose croaking +and entreating from the ditch by the road, the servant pointed with +tight lips and solemn eyes to Hangman’s Acre. Chris fumbled in his +purse, threw a couple of groats on to the ground, and rode on down the +hill. + +His heart was beating fast as he went down Westgate Lane into the High +Street, and it quickened yet further as the great bells in the Priory +church began to jangle; for it was close on vesper time, and +instinctively he shook his reins to hasten his beast, who was picking +his way delicately through the filth and tumbled stones that lay +everywhere, for the melodious roar seemed to be bidding him haste and be +welcome. Mr. Morris was close beside him, and remarked on this and that +as they went, the spire of St. Ann’s away to the right, with St. +Pancras’s Bridge, a swinging sign over an inn with Queen Katharine’s +face erased, but plainly visible under Ann Boleyn’s, the tall mound +beyond the Priory crowned by a Calvary, and the roof of the famous +dove-cote of the Priory, a great cruciform structure with over two +thousand cells. But Christopher knew it all better than the servant, +and paid little attention, and besides, his excitement was running too +high. They came down at last through Antioch Street, Puddingbag Lane, +and across the dry bed of the Winterbourne, and the gateway was before +them. + +The bells had ceased by now, after a final stroke. Mr. Morris sprang off +his horse, and drew on the chain that hung by the smaller of the two +doors. There was a sound of footsteps and a face looked out from the +grating. The servant said a word or two; the face disappeared, and a +moment later there was the turning of a key, and one leaf of the +horse-entrance rolled back. Chris touched his beast with his heel, +passed through on to the paved floor, and sat smiling and flushed, +looking down at the old lay-brother, who beamed up at him pleasantly and +told him he was expected. + +Chris dismounted at once, telling the servant to take the horses round +to the stables on the right, and himself went across the open court +towards the west end of the church, that rose above him fifty feet into +the clear evening air, faced with marble about the two doors, and +crowned by the western tower and the high central spire beyond where the +bells hung. On the right lay the long low wall of the Cellarer’s +offices, with the kitchen jutting out at the lower end, and the +high-pitched refectory roof above and beyond it. The church was full of +golden light as he entered, darkening to dusk in the chapels on either +side, pricked with lights here and there that burned before the images, +and giving an impression of immense height owing to its narrowness and +its length. The air was full of rolling sound, sonorous and full, that +echoed in the two high vaults on this side and that of the high altar, +was caught in the double transepts, and lost in the chapels that opened +in a corona of carved work at the further end, for the monks were busy +at the _Opus Dei_, and the psalms rocked from side to side, as if the +nave were indeed a great ship ploughing its way to the kingdom of +heaven. + +There were a few seats at the western end, and into one of these +Christopher found his way, signing himself first from the stoup at the +door, and inclining before he went in. Then he leaned his chin on his +hands and looked eagerly. + +It was difficult to make out details clearly at the further end, for the +church was poorly lighted, and there was no western window; the glare +from the white roads, too, along which he had come still dazzled him, +but little by little, helped by his own knowledge of the place, he began +to see more clearly. + + * * * * * + +High above him ran the lines of the clerestory, resting on the rounded +Norman arches, broken by the beam that held the mighty rood, with the +figures of St. Mary and St. John on either side; and beyond, yet higher, +on this side of the high altar, rose the lofty air of the vault ninety +feet above the pavement. To left and right opened the two western +transepts, and from where he knelt he could make out the altar of St. +Martin in the further one, with its apse behind. The image of St. +Pancras himself stood against a pillar with the light from the lamp +beneath flickering against his feet. But Christopher’s eyes soon came +back to the centre, beyond the screen, where a row of blackness on +either side in the stalls, marked where the monks rested back, and where +he would soon be resting with them. There were candles lighted at sparse +intervals along the book-rests, that shone up into the faces bent down +over the wide pages beneath; and beyond all rose the altar with two +steady flames crowning it against the shining halpas behind that cut it +off from the four groups of slender carved columns that divided the five +chapels at the extreme east. Half-a-dozen figures sat about the nave, +and Christopher noticed an old man, his white hair falling to his +shoulders, two seats in front, beginning to nod gently with sleep as the +soft heavy waves of melody poured down, lulling him. + +He began now to catch the words, as his ears grew accustomed to the +sound, and he, too, sat back to listen. + +“_Fiat pax in virtute tua: et abundantia in turribus tuis;” “Propter +fratres meos et proximos meos_:” came back the answer, “_loquebar pacem +de te_.” And once more: “_Propter domum Domini Dei nostri: quaesivi bona +tibi_.” + +Then there was a soft clattering roar as the monks rose to their feet, +and in double volume from the bent heads sounded out the _Gloria Patri_. + +It was overwhelming to the young man to hear the melodious tumult of +praise, and to remember that in less than a week he would be standing +there among the novices and adding his voice. It seemed to him as if he +had already come into the heart of life that he had felt pulsating round +him as he swam in the starlight a month before. It was this that was +reality, and the rest illusion. Here was the end for which man was made, +the direct praise of God; here were living souls eager and alert on the +business of their existence, building up with vibration after vibration +the eternal temple of glory in which God dwelt. Once he began to sing, +and then stopped. He would be silent here until his voice had been +authorized to join in that consecrated offering. + +He waited until all was over, and the two lines of black figures had +passed out southwards, and the sacristan was going round putting out +the lights; and then he too rose and went out, thrilled and excited, +into the gathering twilight, as the bell for supper began to sound out +from the refectory tower. + +He found Mr. Morris waiting for him at the entrance to the guest-house, +and the two went up the stairs at the porter’s directions into the +parlour that looked out over the irregular court towards the church and +convent. + +Christopher sat down in the window seat. + +Over the roofs opposite the sky was still tender and luminous, with rosy +light from the west, and a little troop of pigeons were wheeling over +the church in their last flight before returning home to their huge +dwelling down by the stream. The porter had gone a few minutes before, +and Christopher presently saw him returning with Dom Anthony Marks, the +guest-master, whom he had got to know very well on former visits. In a +fit of shyness he drew back from the window, and stood up, nervous and +trembling, and a moment later heard steps on the stairs. Mr. Morris had +slipped out, and now stood in the passage, and Chris saw him bowing with +a nicely calculated mixture of humility and independence. Then a black +figure appeared in the doorway, and came briskly through. + +“My dear Chris,” he said warmly, holding out his hands, and Chris took +them, still trembling and excited. + +They sat down together in the window-seat, and the monk opened the +casement and threw it open, for the atmosphere was a little heavy, and +then flung his arm out over the sill and crossed his feet, as if he had +an hour at his disposal. Chris had noticed before that extraordinary +appearance of ease and leisure in such monks, and it imperceptibly +soothed him. Neither would Dom Anthony speak on technical matters, but +discoursed pleasantly about the party at Overfield Court and the beauty +of the roads between there and Lewes, as if Chris were only come to pay +a passing visit. + +“Your horses are happy enough,” he said. “We had a load of fresh beans +sent in to-day. And you, Chris, are you hungry? Supper will be here +immediately. Brother James told the guest-cook as soon as you came.” + +He seemed to want no answer, but talked on genially and restfully about +the commissioners who had come from Cluny to see after their possessions +in England, and their queer French ways. + +“Dom Philippe would not touch the muscadel at first, and now he cannot +have too much. He clamoured for claret at first, and we had to give him +some. But he knows better now. But he says mass like a holy angel of +God, and is a very devout man in all ways. But they are going soon.” + +Dom Anthony fulfilled to perfection the ideal laid down for a +guest-master in the Custumal. He showed, indeed, the “cheerful +hospitality to guests” by which “the good name of the monastery was +enhanced, friendships multiplied, enmities lessened, God honoured, and +charity increased.” He recognised perfectly well the confused terror in +Christopher’s mind and his anxiety to make a good beginning, and +smoothed down the tendency to awkwardness that would otherwise have +shown itself. He had a happy tranquil face, with wide friendly eyes that +almost disappeared when he laughed, and a row of even white teeth. + +As he talked on, Christopher furtively examined his habit, though he +knew every detail of it well enough already. He had, of course, left his +cowl, or ample-sleeved singing gown, in the sacristy on leaving the +church, and was in his black frock girded with the leather belt, and +the scapular over it, hanging to the ground before and behind. His hood, +Christopher noticed, was creased and flat as if he were accustomed to +sit back at his ease. He wore strong black leather boots that just +showed beneath his habit, and a bunch of keys, duplicates of those of +the camerarius and cook, hung on his right side. He was tonsured +according to the Benedictine pattern, and his lips and cheeks were +clean-shaven. + +He noticed presently that Christopher was eyeing him, and put his hand +in friendly fashion on the young man’s knee. + +“Yes,” he said, smiling, “yours is ready too. Dom Franklin looked it out +to-day, and asked me whether it would be the right size. But of the +boots I am not so sure.” + +There was a clink and a footstep outside, and the monk glanced out. + +“Supper is here,” he said, and stood up to look at the table--the +polished clothless top laid ready with a couple of wooden plates and +knives, a pewter tankard, salt-cellar and bread. There was a plain chair +with arms drawn up to it. The rest of the room, which Christopher had +scarcely noticed before, was furnished plainly and efficiently, and had +just that touch of ornament that was intended to distinguish it from a +cell. The floor was strewn with clean rushes; a couple of iron +candlesticks stood on the mantelpiece, and the white walls had one or +two religious objects hanging on them--a wooden crucifix opposite the +table, a framed card bearing an “Image of Pity” with an indulgenced +prayer illuminated beneath, a little statue of St. Pancras on a bracket +over the fire, and a clear-written copy of rules for guests hung by the +low oak door. + +Dom Anthony nodded approvingly at the table, took up a knife and rubbed +it delicately on the napkin, and turned round. + +“We will look here,” he said, and went towards the second door by the +fire. Christopher followed him, and found himself in the bedroom, +furnished with the same simplicity as the other; but with an iron +bedstead in the corner, a kneeling stool beside it, with a little French +silver image of St. Mary over it, and a sprig of dried yew tucked in +behind. A thin leather-bound copy of the Little Office of Our Lady lay +on the sloping desk, with another book or two on the upper slab. Dom +Anthony went to the window and threw that open too. + +“Your luggage is unpacked, I see,” he said, nodding to the press beside +which lay the two trunks, emptied now by Mr. Morris’s careful hands. + +“There are some hares, too,” said Christopher. “Ralph has sent them to +my Lord Prior.” + +“The porter has them,” said the monk, “they look strangely like a +bribe.” And he nodded again with a beaming face, and his eyes grew +little and bright at his own humour. + +He examined the bed before he left the room again, turned back the +sheets and pressed them down, and the straw rustled drily beneath; +glanced into the sweating earthenware jug, refolded the coarse towel on +its wooden peg, and then smiled again at the young man. + +“Supper,” he said briefly. + +Christopher stayed a moment with a word of excuse to wash off the dust +of his ride from his hands and face, and when he came back into the +sitting-room found the candles lighted, the wooden shutters folded over +the windows, and a basin of soup with a roast pigeon steaming on the +table. The monk was standing, waiting for him by the door. + +“I must be gone, Chris,” he said, “but I shall be back before compline. +My Lord Prior will see you to-morrow. There is nothing more? Remember +you are at home now.” + +And on Christopher’s assurances that he had all he could need, he was +gone, leisurely and cheerfully, and his footsteps sounded on the stairs. + +Mr. Morris came up before Chris had finished supper, and as he silently +slipped away his plate and set another for the cheese, Chris remembered +with a nervous exultation that this would be probably the last time that +he would have a servant to wait on him. He was beginning to feel +strangely at home already; the bean soup was strong and savoury, the +beer cool; and he was pleasantly exercised by his ride. Mr. Morris, too, +in answer to his enquiries, said that he had been well looked after in +the servants’ quarters of the guest-house, and had had an entertaining +supper with an agreeable Frenchman who, it seemed, had come with the +Cluniac commissioners. Respect for his master and a sense of the +ludicrous struggled in Mr. Morris’s voice as he described the +foreigner’s pronunciation and his eloquent gestures. + +“He’s not like a man, sir,” he said, and shook with reminiscent +laughter. + + * * * * * + +It was half an hour before Dom Anthony returned, and after hospitable +enquiries, sat down by Chris again in the wide window-seat and began to +talk. + +He told him that guests were not expected to attend the night-offices, +and that indeed he strongly recommended Chris doing nothing of the kind +at any rate that night; that masses were said at all hours from five +o’clock onwards; that prime was said at seven, and was followed by the +_Missa familiaris_ for the servants and work-people of the house. +Breakfast would be ready in the guest-house at eight; the chapter-mass +would be said at the half-hour and after the daily chapter which +followed it had taken place, the Prior wished to see Christopher. The +high mass was sung at ten, and dinner would be served at eleven. He +directed his attention, too, to the card that hung by the door on which +these hours were notified. + +Christopher already knew that for the first three or four days he would +have to remain in the guest-house before any formal step was taken with +regard to him, but he said a word to Father Anthony about this. + +“Yes,” said the monk, “my Lord Prior will tell you about that. But you +will be here as a guest until Sunday, and on that day you will come to +the morning chapter to beg for admission. You will do that for three +days, and then, please God, you will be clothed as a novice.” + +And once more he looked at him with deep smiling eyes. + +Chris asked him a few more questions, and Dom Anthony told him what he +wished to know, though protesting with monastic etiquette that it was +not his province. + +“Dom James Berkely is the novice-master,” he said, “you will find him +very holy and careful. The first matter you will have to learn is how to +wear the habit, carry your hands, and to walk with gravity. Then you +will learn how to bow, with the hands crossed on the knees, so--” and he +illustrated it by a gesture--“if it is a profound inclination; and when +and where the inclinations are to be made. Then you will learn of the +custody of the eyes. It is these little things that help the soul at +first, as you will find, like--like--the bindings of a peach-tree, that +it may learn how to grow and bear its fruit. And the Rule will be given +you, and what a monk must have by rote, and how to sing. You will not be +idle, Chris.” + +It was no surprise to Christopher to hear how much of the lessons at +first were concerned with external behaviour. In his visits to Lewes +before, as well as from the books that Mr. Carleton had lent him, he had +learnt that the perfection of the Religious Life depended to a +considerable extent upon minutiæ that were both aids to, and the result +of, a tranquil and recollected mind, the acquirement of which was part +of the object of the monk’s ambition. The ideal, he knew, was the +perfect direction of every part of his being, of hands and eyes, as well +as of the great powers of the soul; what God had joined together man +must not put asunder, and the man who had every physical movement under +control, and never erred through forgetfulness or impulse in these +little matters, presumably also was master of his will, and retained +internal as well as external equanimity. + +The great bell began to toll presently for compline, and the +guest-master rose in the midst of his explanations. + +“My Lord Prior bade me thank you for the hares,” he said. “Perhaps your +servant will take the message back to Mr. Ralph to-morrow. Come.” + +They went down the stairs together and out into the summer twilight, the +great strokes sounding overhead in the gloom as they walked. Over the +high wall to the left shone a light or two from Lewes town, and beyond +rose up the shadowy masses of the downs over which Christopher had +ridden that afternoon. Over those hills, too, he knew, lay his old home. +As they walked together in silence up the paved walk to the west end of +the church, a vivid picture rose before the young man’s eyes of the +little parlour where he had sat last night--of his silent mother in her +black satin; his father in the tall chair, Ralph in an unwontedly easy +and genial mood lounging on the other side and telling stories of town, +of the chaplain with his homely, pleasant face, slipping silently out at +the door. That was the last time that all that was his,--that he had a +right and a place there. If he ever saw it again it would be as a guest +who had become the son of another home, with new rights and relations, +and at the thought a pang of uncontrollable shrinking pricked at his +heart. + +But at the door of the church the monk drew his arm within his own for a +moment and held it, and Chris saw the shadowed eyes under his brows rest +on him tenderly. + +“God bless you, Chris!” he said. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A COMMISSION + + +Within a few days of Christopher’s departure to Lewes, Ralph also left +Overfield and went back to London. + +He was always a little intolerant at home, and generally appeared there +at his worst--caustic, silent, and unsympathetic. It seemed to him that +the simple country life was unbearably insipid; he found there neither +wit nor affairs: to see day after day the same faces, to listen to the +same talk either on country subjects that were distasteful to him, or, +out of compliment to himself, political subjects that were unfamiliar to +the conversationalists, was a very hard burden, and he counted such +things as the price he must pay for his occasional duty visits to his +parents. He could not help respecting the piety of his father, but he +was none the less bored by it; and the atmosphere of silent cynicism +that seemed to hang round his mother was his only relief. He thought he +understood her, and it pleased him sometimes to watch her, to calculate +how she would behave in any little domestic crisis or incident that +affected her, to notice the slight movement of her lips and her eyelids +gently lowering and rising again in movements of extreme annoyance. But +even this was not sufficient compensation for the other drawbacks of +life at Overfield Court, and it was with a very considerable relief that +he stepped into his carriage at last towards the end of July, nodded and +smiled once more to his father who was watching him from the terrace +steps with a wistful and puzzled face, anxious to please, and heard the +first crack of the whip of his return journey. + +He had, indeed, a certain excuse for going, for a despatch-rider had +come down from London with papers for him from Sir Thomas Cromwell, and +it was not hard to assume a serious face and announce that he was +recalled by affairs; and there was sufficient truth in it, too, for one +of the memoranda bore on the case of Elizabeth Barton, the holy maid of +Kent, and announced her apprehension. Cromwell however, did not actually +recall him, but mentioned the fact of her arrest, and asked if he had +heard much said of her in the country, and what the opinion of her was +in that district. + + * * * * * + +The drive up to London seemed very short to him now; he went slowly +through the bundle of papers on which he had to report, annotating them +in order here and there, and staring out of the window now and again +with unseeing eyes. There were a dozen cases on which he was engaged, +which had been forwarded to him during his absence in the country--the +priest at High Hatch was reported to have taken a wife, and Cromwell +desired information about this; Ralph had ridden out there one day and +gossipped a little outside the parsonage; an inn-keeper a few miles to +the north of Cuckfield had talked against the divorce and the reigning +Consort; a mistake had been made in the matter of a preaching license, +and Cranmer had desired Cromwell to look into it; a house had been sold +in Cheapside on which Ralph had been told to keep a suspicious eye, and +he was asked his opinion on the matter; and such things as these +occupied his time fully, until towards four o’clock in the afternoon his +carriage rolled up to the horse-ferry at Lambeth, and he thrust the +papers back into his bag before stepping out. + +On arriving at his own little house in Westminster, the rent of which +was paid by his master, he left his other servants to carry up the +luggage, and set out himself again immediately with Morris in a hackney +carriage for Chancery Lane. + +As he went, he found himself for the hundredth time thinking of the +history of the man to whom he was going. + +Sir Thomas Cromwell was beginning to rise rapidly from a life of +adventure and obscurity abroad. He had passed straight from the +Cardinal’s service to the King’s three years before, and had since then +been knighted, appointed privy-councillor, Master of the Jewel-house, +and Clerk of the Hanaper in the Court of Chancery. At the same time he +was actively engaged on his amazing system of espionage through which he +was able to detect disaffection in all parts of the country, and thereby +render himself invaluable to the King, who, like all the Tudors, while +perfectly fearless in the face of open danger was pitiably terrified of +secret schemes. + +And it was to this man that he was confidential agent! Was there any +limit to the possibilities of his future? + +Ralph found a carriage drawn up at the door and, on enquiry, heard that +his master was on the point of leaving; and even as he hesitated in the +entrance, Cromwell shambled down the stairs with a few papers in his +hand, his long sleeveless cloak flapping on each step behind him, and +his felt plumed cap on his head in which shone a yellow jewel. + +His large dull face, clean shaven like a priest’s, lighted up briskly as +he saw Ralph standing there, and he thrust his arm pleasantly through +his agent’s. + +“Come home to supper,” he said, and the two wheeled round and went out +and into the carriage. Mr. Morris handed the bag through the window to +his master, and stood bare-headed as the carriage moved off over the +newly laid road. + +It would have been a very surprising sight to Sir James Torridon to see +his impassive son’s attitude towards Cromwell. He was deferential, eager +to please, nervous of rebuke, and almost servile, for he had found his +hero in that tremendous personality. He pulled out his papers now, shook +them out briskly, and was soon explaining, marking and erasing. Cromwell +leaned back in his corner and listened, putting in a word of comment now +and again, or dotting down a note on the back of a letter, and watching +Ralph with a pleasant, oblique look, for he liked to see his people +alert and busy. But he knew very well what his demeanour was like at +other times, and had at first indeed been drawn to the young man by his +surprising insolence of manner and impressive observant silences. + +“That is very well, Mr. Torridon,” he said. “I will see to the license. +Put them all away.” + +Ralph obeyed, and then sat back too, silent indeed, but with a kind of +side-long readiness for the next subject; but Cromwell spoke no more of +business for the present, only uttering short sentences about current +affairs, and telling his friend the news. + +“Frith has been burned,” he said. “Perhaps you knew it. He was obstinate +to the end, my Lord Bishop reported. He threw Saint Chrysostom and Saint +Augustine back into their teeth. He gave great occasion to the funny +fellows. There was one who said that since Frith would have no +purgatory, he was sent there by my Lord to find out for himself whether +there be such a place or not. There was a word more about his manner of +going there, ‘Frith frieth,’ but ’twas not good. Those funny fellows +over-reach themselves. Hewet went with him to Smithfield and hell.” + +Ralph smiled, and asked how they took it. + +“Oh, very well. A priest bade the folk pray no more for Frith than for a +dog, but Frith smiled on him and begged the Lord to forgive him his +unkind words.” + +He was going on to tell him a little more about the talk of the Court, +when the carriage drove up to the house in Throgmorton Street, near +Austin Friars, which Cromwell had lately built for himself. + +“My wife and children are at Hackney,” he said as he stepped out. “We +shall sup alone.” + +It was a great house, built out of an older one, superbly furnished with +Italian things, and had a large garden at the back on to which looked +the windows of the hall. Supper was brought up almost immediately--a +couple of woodcocks and a salad--and the two sat down, with a pair of +servants in blue and silver to wait on them. Cromwell spoke no more word +of business until the bottle of wine had been set on the table, and the +servants were gone. And then he began again, immediately. + +“And what of the country?” he said. “What do they say there?” He took a +peach from the carved roundel in the centre of the table, and seemed +absorbed in its contemplation. + +Ralph had had some scruples at first about reporting private +conversations, but Cromwell had quieted them long since, chiefly by the +force of his personality, and partly by the argument that a man’s duty +to the State over-rode his duty to his friends, and that since only talk +that was treasonable would be punished, it was simpler to report all +conversations in general that had any suspicious bearing, and that he +himself was most competent to judge whether or no they should be +followed up. Ralph, too, had become completely reassured by now that no +injury would be done to his own status among his friends, since his +master had never yet made direct use of any of his information in such a +manner as that it was necessary for Ralph to appear as a public witness. +And again, too, he had pointed out that the work had to be done, and +that was better for the cause of justice and mercy that it should be +done by conscientious rather than by unscrupulous persons. + +He talked to him now very freely about the conversations in his father’s +house, knowing that Cromwell did not want more than a general specimen +sketch of public feeling in matters at issue. + +“They have great faith in the Maid of Kent, sir,” he said. “My +brother-in-law, Nicholas, spoke of her prophecy of his Grace’s death. It +is the devout that believe in her; the ungodly know her for a fool or a +knave.” + +“_Filii hujus saeculi prudentiores sunt_,”--quoted Cromwell gravely. +“Your brother-in-law, I should think, was a child of light.” + +“He is, sir.” + +“I should have thought so. And what else did you hear?” + +“There is a good deal of memory of the Lady Katharine, sir. I heard the +foresters talking one day.” + +“What of the Religious houses?” + +Ralph hesitated. + +“My brother Christopher has just gone to Lewes,” he said. “So I heard +more of the favourable side, but I heard a good deal against them, too. +There was a secular priest talking against them one day, with our +chaplain, who is a defender of them.” + +“Who was he?” asked Cromwell, with the same sharp, oblique glance. + +“A man of no importance, sir; the parson of Great Keynes.” + +“The Holy Maid is in trouble,” went on the other after a minute’s +silence. “She is in my Lord of Canterbury’s hands, and we can leave her +there. I suppose she will be hanged.” + +Ralph waited. He knew it was no good asking too much. + +“What she said of the King’s death and the pestilence is enough to cast +her,” went on Cromwell presently. “And Bocking and Hadleigh will be in +his hands soon, too. They do not know their peril yet.” + +They went on to talk of the friars, and of the disfavour that they were +in with the King after the unfortunate occurrences of the previous +spring, when Father Peto had preached at Greenwich before Henry on the +subject of Naboth’s vineyard and the end of Ahab the oppressor. There +had been a dramatic scene, Cromwell said, when on the following Sunday a +canon of Hereford, Dr. Curwin, had preached against Peto from the same +pulpit, and had been rebuked from the rood-loft by another of the +brethren, Father Elstow, who had continued declaiming until the King +himself had fiercely intervened from the royal pew and bade him be +silent. + +“The two are banished,” said Cromwell, “but that is not the end of it. +Their brethren will hear of it again. I have never seen the King so +wrathful. I suppose it was partly because the Lady Katharine so +cossetted them. She was always in the church at the night-office when +the Court was at Greenwich, and Friar Forrest, you know, was her +confessor. There is a rod in pickle.” + +Ralph listened with all his ears. Cromwell was not very communicative +on the subject of the Religious houses, but Ralph had gathered from +hints of this kind that something was preparing. + +When supper was over and the servants were clearing away, Cromwell went +to the window where the glass glowed overhead with his new arms and +scrolls--a blue coat with Cornish choughs and a rose on a fess between +three rampant lions--and stood there, a steady formidable figure, with +his cropped head and great jowl, looking out on to the garden. + +When the men had gone he turned again to Ralph. + +“I have something for you,” he said, “but it is greater than those other +matters--a fool could not do it. Sit down.” + +He came across the room to the fireplace, as Ralph sat down, and himself +took a chair by the table, lifting the baudkin cushion and settling it +again comfortably behind him. + +“It is this,” he said abruptly. “You know that Master More has been in +trouble. There was the matter of the gilt flagon which Powell said he +had taken as a bribe, and the gloves lined with forty pound. Well, he +disproved that, and I am glad of it, glad of it,” he repeated steadily, +looking down at his ring and turning it to catch the light. “But there +is now another matter--I hear he has been practising with the Holy Maid +and hearkening to her ravings, and that my Lord of Rochester is in it +too. But I am not sure of it.” + +Cromwell stopped, glanced up at Ralph a moment, and then down again. + +“I am not sure of it,” he said again, “and I wish to be. And I think you +can help me.” + +Ralph waited patiently, his heart beginning to quicken. This was a great +matter. + +“I wish you to go to him,” said his master, “and to get him into talk. +But I do not see how it can be managed.” + +“He knows I am in your service, sir,” suggested Ralph. + +“Yes, yes,” said Cromwell a little impatiently, “that is it. He is no +fool, and will not talk. This is what I thought of. That you should go +to him from me, and feign that you are on his side in the matter. But +will he believe that?” he ended gloomily, looking at the other +curiously. + +There was silence for a minute, while Cromwell drummed his fingers +softly on the table. Then presently Ralph spoke. + +“There is this, sir,” he said. “I might speak to him about my brother +Chris who, as I told you, has gone to Lewes at the Maid’s advice, and +then see what Master More has to say.” + +Cromwell still looked at him. + +“Yes,” he said, “that seems reasonable. And for the rest--well, I will +leave that in your hands.” + +They talked a few minutes longer about Sir Thomas More, and Cromwell +told the other what a quiet life the ex-Chancellor had led since his +resignation of office, of his house at Chelsea, and the like, and of the +decision that he had apparently come to not to mix any further in public +affairs. + +“There is thunder in the air,” he said, “as you know very well, and +Master More is no mean weather-prophet. He mis-liked the matter of the +Lady Katharine, and Queen Anne is no friend of his. I think he is wise +to be quiet.” + +Ralph knew perfectly well that this tolerant language did not represent +Cromwell’s true attitude towards the man of whom they were speaking, but +he assented to all that was said, and added a word or two about Sir +Thomas More’s learning, and of the pleasant manner in which he himself +had been received when he had once had had occasion to see him before. + +“He was throwing Horace at me,” said the other, with a touch of +bitterness, “the last time that I was there. I do not know which he +loves best, that or his prayers.” + +Again Ralph recognised an animus. Cromwell had suffered somewhat from +lack of a classical education. + +“But it is a good thing to love the classics and devotion,” he went on +presently with a sententious air, “they are solaces in time of trouble. +I have found that myself.” + +He glanced up at the other and down again. + +“I was caught saying our Lady matins one day,” he said, “when the +Cardinal was in trouble. I remember I was very devout that morning.” + +He went on to talk of Wolsey and of his relations with him, and Ralph +watched that heavy smooth face become reminiscent and almost +sentimental. + +“If he had but been wiser;” he said. “I have noticed again and again the +folly of wise men. There is always clay mixed with gold. I suppose +nothing but the fire that Frith denied can purge it out; and my lord’s +was ambition.” + +He wagged his head in solemn reprobation, and Ralph did not know whether +to laugh or to look grave. Then there fell a long silence, and Cromwell +again fell to fingering his signet-ring, taking it off his thumb and +rolling it on the smooth oak, and at last stood up with a brisker air. + +“Well,” he said, “I have a thousand affairs, and my son Gregory is +coming here soon. Then you will see about that matter. Remember I wish +to know what Master More thinks of her, that--that I may know what to +think.” + + * * * * * + +Ralph understood sufficiently clearly, as he walked home in the evening +light, what it was that his master wanted. It was no less than to catch +some handle against the ex-chancellor, though he had carefully abstained +from saying so. Ralph recognised the adroitness, and saw that while the +directions had been plain and easy to understand, yet that not one word +had been spoken that could by any means be used as a handle against +Cromwell. If anyone in England at that time knew how to wield speech it +was his master; it was by that weapon that he had prevailed with the +King, and still kept him in check; it was that weapon rashly used by his +enemies that he was continually turning against them, and under his +tutoring Ralph himself had begun to be practised in the same art. + +Among other causes, too, of his admiration for Cromwell, was the +latter’s extraordinary business capacity. There was hardly an affair of +any importance in which he did not have a finger at least, and most of +them he held in the palm of his hand, and that, not only in the mass but +in their minutest details. Ralph had marvelled more than once at the +minutiæ that he had seen dotted down on the backs of old letters lying +on his master’s table. Matters of Church and State, inextricably +confused to other eyes, were simple to this man; he understood +intuitively where the key of each situation lay, and dealt with them one +after another briefly and effectively. And yet with all this no man wore +an appearance of greater leisure; he would gossip harmlessly for an +hour, and yet by the end had said all that he wished to say, and +generally learnt, too, from his companion whoever he might be, all he +wished to learn. Ralph had watched him more than once at this business; +had seen delicate subjects introduced in a deft unsuspicious sentence +that roused no alarm, and had marvelled at his power to play with men +without their dreaming of what was going forward. + +And now it was Master More that was threatened. Ralph knew well that +there was far more behind the scenes than he could understand or even +perceive, and recognised that the position of Sir Thomas was more +significant than would appear, and that developments might be expected +to follow soon. + +For himself he had no shrinking from his task. He understood that +government was carried on by such methods, and that More himself would +be the first to acknowledge that in war many things were permissible +that would be outrageous in times of peace, and that these were times of +war. To call upon a friend, to eat his bread and salt, and talk +familiarly with him, and to be on the watch all the while for a weak +spot through which that friend might be wounded, seemed to Ralph, +trained now and perfected in Cromwell’s school, a perfectly legitimate +policy, and he walked homewards this summer evening, pleased with this +new mark of confidence, and anxious to acquit himself well in his task. + + * * * * * + +The house that Ralph occupied in Westminster was in a street to the west +of the Abbey, and stood back a little between its neighbours. It was a +very small one, of only two rooms in width and one in depth, and three +stories high; but it had been well furnished, chiefly with things +brought up from Overfield Court, to which Ralph had taken a fancy, and +which his father had not denied him. He lived almost entirely in the +first floor, his bedroom and sitting-room being divided by the narrow +landing at the head of the stairs that led up to the storey above, which +was occupied by Mr. Morris and a couple of other servants. The lower +storey Ralph used chiefly for purposes of business, and for interviews +which were sufficiently numerous for one engaged in so many affairs. +Cromwell had learnt by now that he could be trusted to say little and to +learn much, and the early acts of many little dramas that had ended in +tragedy had been performed in the two gravely-furnished rooms on the +ground floor. A good deal of the law-business, in its early stages, +connected with the annulling of the King’s marriage with Queen Katharine +had been done there; a great canonist from a foreign university had +explained there his views in broken English, helped out with Latin, to a +couple of shrewd-faced men, while Ralph watched the case for his master; +and Cromwell himself had found the little retired house a convenience +for meeting with persons whom he did not wish to frighten over much, +while Ralph and Mr. Morris sat alert and expectant on the other side of +the hall, with the door open, listening for raised voices or other signs +of a quarrel. + +The rooms upstairs had been furnished with considerable care. The floors +of both were matted, for the plan involved less trouble than the +continual laying of clean rushes. The sitting-room was panelled up six +feet from the floor, and the three feet of wall above were covered with +really beautiful tapestry that Ralph had brought up from Overfield. +There was a great table in the centre, along one side of which rested a +set of drawers with brass handles, and in the centre of the table was a +deep well, covered by a flap that lay level with the rest of the top. +Another table stood against the wall, on which his meals were served, +and the door of a cupboard in which his plate and knives were kept +opened immediately above it, designed in the thickness of the wall. +There were half-a-dozen chairs, two or three other pieces of furniture, +a backed settle by the fire and a row of bookshelves opposite the +windows; and over the mantelpiece, against the tapestry, hung a picture +of Cromwell, painted by Holbein, and rejected by him before it was +finished. Ralph had begged it from the artist who was on the point of +destroying it. It represented the sitter’s head and shoulders in +three-quarter face, showing his short hair, his shrewd heavy face, with +its double chin, and the furred gown below. + +Mr. Morris was ready for his master and opened the door to him. + +“There are some letters come, Mr. Ralph, sir,” he said. “I have laid +them on your table.” + +Ralph nodded, slipped off his thin cloak into his servant’s hands +without speaking, laid down his cane and went upstairs. + +The letters were very much what he expected, and dealt with cases on +which he was engaged. There was an entreaty from a country squire near +Epping Forest, whose hounds had got into trouble with the King’s +foresters that he would intercede for him to Cromwell. A begging letter +from a monk who had been ejected from his monastery for repeated +misconduct, and who represented himself as starving; Ralph lifted this +to his nostrils and it smelt powerfully of spirits, and he laid it down +again, smiling to himself. A torrent of explanation from a schoolmaster +who had been reported for speaking against the sacrament of the altar, +calling the saints to witness that he was no follower of Frith in such +detestable heresy. A dignified protest from a Justice of the Peace in +Kent who had been reproved by Cromwell, through Ralph’s agency, for +acquitting a sturdy beggar, and who begged that he might in future deal +with a responsible person; and this Ralph laid aside, smiling again and +promising himself that he would have the pleasure of granting the +request. An offer, written in a clerkly hand, from a fellow who could +not sign his name but had appended a cross, to submit some important +evidence of a treasonable plot, on the consideration of secrecy and a +suitable reward. + +A year ago such a budget would have given Ralph considerable pleasure, +and a sense of his own importance; but business had been growing on him +rapidly of late, as his master perceived his competence, and it gave him +no thrill to docket this one, write a refusal to that, a guarded answer +to another, and finally to open the well of his table and drop the +bundle in. + +Then he turned round his chair, blew out one candle carefully, and set +to thinking about Master Thomas More. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MASTER MORE + + +It was not until nearly a month later that Ralph made an opportunity to +call upon Sir Thomas More. Cromwell had given him to understand that +there was no immediate reason for haste; his own time was tolerably +occupied, and he thought it as well not to make a show of over-great +hurry. He wrote to Sir Thomas, explaining that he wished to see him on a +matter connected with his brother Christopher, and received a courteous +reply begging him to come to dinner on the following Thursday, the +octave of the Assumption, as Sir Thomas thought it proper to add. + + * * * * * + +It was a wonderfully pleasant house, Ralph thought, as his wherry came +up to the foot of the garden stairs that led down from the lawn to the +river. It stood well back in its own grounds, divided from the river by +a wall with a wicket gate in it. There was a little grove of trees on +either side of it; a flock of pigeons were wheeling about the +bell-turret that rose into the clear blue sky, and from which came a +stroke or two, announcing the approach of dinner-time as he went up the +steps. + +There was a figure lying on its face in the shadow by the house, as +Ralph came up the path, and a small dog, that seemed to be trying to dig +the head out from the hands in which it was buried, ceased his +excavations and set up a shrill barking. The figure rolled over, and sat +up; the pleasant brown face was all creased with laughter; small pieces +of grass were clinging to the long hair, and Ralph, to his amazement, +recognised the ex-Lord Chancellor of England. + +“I beg your pardon, sir,” said More, rising and shaking himself. “I had +no idea--you take me at a disadvantage; it is scarcely dignified”--and +he stopped, smiling and holding out one hand, while he stretched the +other deprecatingly, to quiet that insistent barking. + +Ralph had a sensation of mingled contempt and sympathy as he took his +hand. + +“I had the honour of seeing you once before, Master More,” he said. + +“Why, yes,” said More, “and I hope I cut a better figure last time, but +Anubis would take no refusal. But I am ashamed, and beg you will not +speak of it to Mrs. More. She is putting on a new coif in your honour.” + +“I will be discreet,” said Ralph, smiling. + +They went indoors almost immediately, when Sir Thomas had flicked the +grass sufficiently off his gown to escape detection, and straight +through to the hall where the table was laid, and three or four girls +were waiting. + +“Your mother is not here yet, I see,” said Sir Thomas, when he had made +Ralph known to his daughters, and the young man had kissed them +deferentially, according to the proper etiquette--“I will tell you +somewhat--hush--” and he broke off again sharply as the door from the +stairs opened, and a stately lady, with a rather solemn and +uninteresting face, sailed in, her silk skirts rustling behind her, and +her fresh coif stiff and white on her head. A middle-aged man followed +her in, looking a little dejected, and made straight across to where the +ladies were standing with an eagerness that seemed to hint at a sense of +escape. + +“Mrs. Alice,” said Sir Thomas, “this is Mr. Ralph Torridon, of whom you +have heard me speak. I was fortunate enough to welcome him on the lawn +just now.” + +“I saw you, Mr. More,” said his wife with dignity, as she took Ralph’s +hand and said a word about the weather. + +“Then I will confess,” said Sir Thomas, smiling genially round, “I +welcomed Mr. Torridon with the back of my head, and with Anubis biting +my ears.” + +Ralph felt strangely drawn to this schoolboy kind of man, who romped +with dogs and lay on his stomach, and was so charmingly afraid of his +wife. His contempt began to melt as he looked at him and saw those wise +twinkling eyes, and strong humorous mouth, and remembered once more who +he was, and his reputation. + +Sir Thomas said grace with great gravity and signed himself reverently +before he sat down. There was a little reading first of the Scriptures +and a commentary on it, and then as dinner went on Ralph began to attend +less and less to his hostess, who, indeed appeared wholly absorbed in +domestic details of the table and with whispering severely to the +servants behind her hand, and to listen and look towards the further end +where Sir Thomas sat in his tall chair, his flapped cap on his head, and +talked to his daughters on either side. Mr. Roper, the man who had come +in with Mrs. More, was sitting opposite Ralph, and seemed to be chiefly +occupied in listening too. A bright-looking tall girl, whom her father +had introduced by the name of Cecily, sat between Ralph and her father. + +“Not at all,” cried Sir Thomas, in answer to something that Ralph did +not catch, “nothing of the kind! It was Juno that screamed. Argus would +not condescend to it. He was occupied in dancing before the bantams.” + +Ralph lost one of the few remarks that Mrs. More addressed to him, in +wondering what this meant, and the conversation at the other end swept +round a corner while he was apologising. When he again caught the +current Sir Thomas was speaking of wherries. + +“I would love to row a wherry,” he said. “The fellows do not know their +fortune; they might lead such sweet meditative lives; they do not, I am +well aware, for I have never heard such blasphemy as I have heard from +wherrymen. But what opportunities are theirs! If I were not your father, +my darling, I would be a wherryman. _Si cognovisses et tu quae ad pacem +tibi_! Mr. Torridon, would you not be a wherryman if you were not Mr. +Torridon?” + +“I thought not this morning,” said Ralph, “as I came here. It seemed hot +rowing against the stream.” + +“It is part of the day’s work,” said More. “When I was Chancellor I +loved nothing more than a hot summer’s day in Court, for I thought of my +cool garden where I should soon be walking. I must show you the New +Building after dinner, Mr. Torridon.” + +Cecily and Margaret presently had a short encounter across the table on +some subject that Ralph did not catch, but he saw Margaret on the other +side flush up and bring her lips sharply together. Sir Thomas leapt into +the breach. + +“_Unde leves animae tanto caluere furore?_” he cried, and glanced up at +Ralph to see if he understood the quotation, as the two girls dropped +their eyes ashamed. + +“_Pugnavare pares, succubuere pares_,” said Ralph by a flash of +inspiration, and looking at the girls. + +Sir Thomas’s eyes shone with pleasure. + +“I did not know you were such a treasure, Mr. Torridon. Now, Master +Cromwell could not have done that.” + +There fell a silence as that name was spoken, and all at the table eyed +Ralph. + +“He was saying as much to me the other day,” went on Ralph, excited by +his success. “He told me you knew Horace too well.” + +“And that my morals were corrupted by him,” went on More. “I know he +thinks that, but I had the honour of confuting him the other day with +regard to the flagon and gloves. Now, there is a subject for Martial, +Mr. Torridon. A corrupt statesman who has retired on his ill-gotten +gains disproves an accusation of bribery. Let us call him Atticus +‘Attice ... Attice’ ...--We might say that he put on the gloves lest his +forgers should be soiled while he drank from the flagon, or something of +the kind.” + +Sir Thomas’s eyes beamed with delight as he talked. To make an apt +classical quotation was like wine to him, but to have it capped +appropriately was like drunkenness. Ralph blessed his stars that he had +been so lucky, for he was no great scholar, and he guessed he had won +his host’s confidence. + +Dinner passed on quietly, and as they rose from table More came round +and took his guest by the arm. + +“You must come with me and see my New Building,” he said, “you are +worthy of it, Mr. Torridon.” + +He still held his arm affectionately as they walked out into the garden +behind the house, and as he discoursed on the joys of a country life. + +“What more can I ask of God?” he said. “He has given me means and tastes +to correspond, and what man can say more. I see visions, and am able to +make them realities. I dream of a dovecote with a tiled roof, and +straightway build it; I picture a gallery and a chapel and a library +away from the clack of tongues, and behold there it is. The eye cannot +say to the hand, ‘I have no need of thee.’ To see and dream without the +power of performance is heart-breaking. To perform without the gift of +imagination is soul-slaying. The man is blessed that hath both eye and +hand, tastes and means alike.” + +It was a very pleasant retreat that Sir Thomas More had built for +himself at the end of his garden, where he might retire when he wanted +solitude. There was a little entrance hall with a door at one corner +into the chapel, and a long low gallery running out from it, lined with +bookshelves on one side, and with an open space on the other lighted by +square windows looking into the garden. The polished boards were bare, +and there was a path marked on them by footsteps going from end to end. + +“Here I walk,” said More, “and my friends look at me from those shelves, +ready to converse but never to interrupt. Shall we walk here, Mr. +Torridon, while you tell me your business?” + +Ralph had, indeed, a touch of scrupulousness as he thought of his host’s +confidence, but he had learnt the habit of silencing impulses and of +only acting on plans deliberately formed; so he was soon laying bare his +anxiety about Chris, and his fear that he had been misled by the Holy +Maid. + +“I am very willing, Mr. More,” he said, “that my brother should be a +monk if it is right, but I could not bear he should be so against God’s +leading. How am I to know whether the maid’s words are of God or no?” + +Sir Thomas was silent a moment. + +“But he had thoughts of it before, I suppose,” he said, “or he would not +have gone to her. In fact, you said so.” + +Ralph acknowledged that this was so. + +“--And for several years,” went on the other. + +Again Ralph assented. + +“And his tastes and habits are those of a monk, I suppose. He is long +at his prayers, given to silence, and of a tranquil spirit?” + +“He is not always tranquil,” said Ralph. “He is impertinent sometimes.” + +“Yes, yes; we all are that. I was very impertinent to you at dinner in +trying to catch you with Martial his epigram, though I shall not offend +again. But his humour may be generally tranquil in spite of it. Well, if +that is so, I do not see why you need trouble about the Holy Maid. He +would likely have been a monk without that. She only confirmed him.” + +“But,” went on Ralph, fighting to get back to the point, “if I thought +she was trustworthy I should be the more happy.” + +“There must always be doubtfulness,” said More, “in such matters. That +is why the novitiate is so severe; it is to show the young men the worst +at once. I do not think you need be unhappy about your brother.” + +“And what is your view about the Holy Maid?” asked Ralph, suddenly +delivering his point. + +More stopped in his walk, cocked his head a little on one side like a +clever dog, and looked at his companion with twinkling eyes. + +“It is a delicate subject,” he said, and went on again. + +“That is what puzzles me,” said Ralph. “Will you not tell me your +opinion, Mr. More?” + +There was again a silence, and they reached the further end of the +gallery and turned again before Sir Thomas answered. + +“If you had not answered me so briskly at dinner, Mr. Torridon, do you +know that I should have suspected you of coming to search me out. But +such a good head, I think, cannot be allied with a bad heart, and I +will tell you.” + +Ralph felt a prick of triumph but none of remorse. + +“I will tell you,” went on More, “and I am sure you will keep it +private. I think the Holy Maid is a good woman who has a maggot.” + +Ralph’s spirits sank again. This was a very non-committing answer. + +“I do not think her a knave as some do, but I think, to refer to what we +said just now, that she has a large and luminous eye, and no hand worth +mentioning. She sees many visions, but few facts. That tale about the +Host being borne by angels from Calais to my mind is nonsense. Almighty +God does not work miracles without reason, and there is none for that. +The blessed sacrament is the same at Dover as at Calais. And a woman who +can dream that can dream anything, for I am sure she did not invent it. +On other matters, therefore, she may be dreaming too, and that is why +once more I tell you that to my mind you can leave her out of your +thoughts with regard to your brother. She is neither prophetess nor +pythoness.” + +This was very unsatisfactory, and Ralph strove to remedy it. + +“And in the matter of the King’s death, Mr. More?” he said. + +Again Sir Thomas stopped in his walk. + +“Do you know, Mr. Torridon, I think we may leave that alone,” he said a +little abruptly. And Ralph sucked in his lip and bit it sharply at the +consciousness of his own folly. + +“I hope your brother will be very happy,” went on the other after a +moment, “and I am sure he will be, if his call is from God, as I think +likely. I was with the Carthusians myself, you know, for four years, +and sometimes I think I should have stayed there. It is a blessed life. +I do not envy many folks, but I do those. To live in the daily +companionship of our blessed Lord and of his saints as those do, and to +know His secrets--_secreta Domini_--even the secrets of His Passion and +its ineffable joys of pain--that is a very fortunate lot, Mr. Torridon. +I sometimes think that as it was with Christ’s natural body so it is +with His mystical body: there be some members, His hands and feet and +side, through which the nails are thrust, though indeed there is not one +whole spot in His body--_inglorius erit inter viros aspectus ejus--nos +putavimus eum quasi leprosum_--but those parts of His body that are +especially pained are at once more honourable and more happy than those +that are not. And the monks are those happy members.” + +He was speaking very solemnly, his voice a little tremulous, and his +kindly eyes were cast down, and Ralph watched him sidelong with a little +awe and pity mingled. He seemed so natural too, that Ralph thought that +he must have over-rated his own indiscretion. + +A shadow fell across the door into the garden as they came near it, and +one of the girls appeared in the opening. + +“Why, Meg,” cried her father, “what is it, my darling?” + +“Beatrice has come, sir,” said the girl. “I thought you would wish to +know.” + +More put out his arm and laid it round his daughter’s waist as she +turned with him. + +“Come, Mr. Torridon,” he said, “if you have no more to say, let us go +and see Beatrice.” + +There was a group on the lawn under one of the lime trees, two or three +girls and Mr. Roper, who all rose to their feet as the three came up. +More immediately sat down on the grass, putting his feet delicately +together before him. + +“Will, fetch this gentleman a chair. It is not fit for Master +Cromwell’s friend to sit on the grass like you and me.” + +Ralph threw himself down on the lawn instantly, entreating Mr. Roper not +to move. + +“Well, well,” said Sir Thomas, “let be. Sit down too, Will, _et cubito +remanete presso_. Mr. Torridon understands that, I know, even if Master +Cromwell’s friend does not. Why, tillie-vallie, as Mrs. More says, I +have not said a word to Beatrice. Beatrice, this is Mr. Ralph Torridon, +and this, Mr. Torridon, is Beatrice. Her other name is Atherton, but to +me she is a feminine benediction, and nought else.” + +Ralph rose swiftly and looked across at a tall slender girl that was +sitting contentedly on an outlying root of the lime tree, beside of Sir +Thomas, and who rose with him. + +“Mr. More cannot let my name alone, Mr. Torridon,” she said tranquilly, +as she drew back after the salute. “He made a play upon it the other +day.” + +“And have been ashamed of it ever since,” said More; “it was sacrilege +with such a name. Now, I am plain Thomas, and more besides. Why did you +send for me, Beatrice?” + +“I have no defence,” said the girl, “save that I wanted to see you.” + +“And that is the prettiest defence you could have made--if it does not +amount to corruption. Mr. Torridon, what is the repartee to that?” + +“I need no advocate,” said the girl; “I can plead well enough.” + +Ralph looked up at her again with a certain interest. She seemed on +marvellously good terms with the whole family, and had an air of being +entirely at her ease. She had her black eyes bent down on to a piece of +grass that she was twisting into a ring between her slender jewelled +fingers, and her white teeth were closed firmly on her lower lip as she +worked. Her long silk skirts lay out unregarded on the grass, and her +buckles gleamed beneath. Her voice was pleasant and rather deep, and +Ralph found himself wondering who she was, and why he had not seen her +before, for she evidently belonged to his class, and London was a small +place. + +“I see you are making one more chain to bind me to you,” said More +presently, watching her. + +She held it up. + +“A ring only,” she said. + +“Then it is not for me,” said More, “for I do not hold with Dr. +Melanchthon, nor yet Solomon in the matter of wives. Now, Mr. Torridon, +tell us all some secrets. Betray your master. We are all agog. Leave off +that ring, Beatrice, and attend.” + +“I am listening,” said the girl as serenely as before, still intent on +her weaving. + +“The King breakfasted this morning at eight of the clock,” said Ralph +gravely. “It is an undoubted fact, I had it on the highest authority.” + +“This is excellent,” said Sir Thomas. “Let us all talk treason. I can +add to that. His Grace had a fall last night and lay senseless for +several hours.” + +He spoke with such gravity that Ralph glanced up. At the same moment +Beatrice looked up from her work and their eyes met. + +“He fell asleep,” added Sir Thomas. + + * * * * * + +It was very pleasant to lie there in the shadow of the lime that +afternoon, and listen to the mild fooling, and Ralph forgot his +manners, and almost his errand too, and never offered to move. The grass +began to turn golden as the sun slanted to the West, and the birds began +to stir after the heat of the day, and to chirp from tree to tree. A +hundred yards away the river twinkled in the sun, seen beyond the trees +and the house, and the voices of the boatmen came, softened by distance +and water, as they plied up and down the flowing highway. Once a barge +went past under the Battersea bank, with music playing in the stern, and +Ralph raised himself on his elbow to watch it as it went down the stream +with flags flying behind, and the rhythmical throb of the row-locks +sounding time to the dancing melody. + +Ralph did his best to fall in with the humour of the day, and told a +good story or two in his slow voice--among them one of his mother +exercising her gift of impressive silence towards a tiresome chatterbox +of a man, with such effect that the conversationalist’s words died on +his lips, after the third or fourth pause made for applause and comment. +He told the story well, and Lady Torridon seemed to move among them, her +skirts dragging majestically on the grass, and her steady, sombre face +looking down on them all beneath half-closed languid eye-lids. + +“He has never been near us again,” said Ralph, “but he never fails to +ask after my mother’s distressing illness when I meet him in town.” + +He was a little astonished at himself as he talked, for he was not +accustomed to take such pains to please, but he was conscious that +though he looked round at the faces, and addressed himself to More, he +was really watching for the effect on the girl who sat behind. He was +aware of every movement that she made; he knew when she tossed the ring +on the little sleeping brown body of the dog that had barked at him +earlier in the day, and set to work upon another. She slipped that on +her finger when she had done, and turned her hand this way and that, her +fingers bent back, a ruby catching the light as she did so, looking at +the effect of the green circle against the whiteness. But he never +looked at her again, except once when she asked him some question, and +then he looked her straight in her black eyes as he answered. + +A bell sounded out at last again from the tower, and startled him. He +got up quickly. + +“I am ashamed,” he said smiling, “how dare I stay so long? It is your +kindness, Mr. More.” + +“Nay, nay,” said Sir Thomas, rising too and stretching himself. “You +have helped us to lose another day in the pleasantest manner +possible--you must come again, Mr. Torridon.” + +He walked down with Ralph to the garden steps, and stood by him talking, +while the wherry that had been hailed from the other side made its way +across. + +“Beatrice is like one of my own daughters,” he said, “and I cannot give +her better praise than that. She is always here, and always as you saw +her to-day. I think she is one of the strongest spirits I know. What did +you think of her, Mr. Torridon?” + +“She did not talk much,” said Ralph. + +“She talks when she has aught to say,” went on More, “and otherwise is +silent. It is a good rule, sir; I would I observed it myself.” + +“Who is she?” asked Ralph. + +“She is the daughter of a friend I had, and she lives just now with my +wife’s sisters, Nan and Fan. She is often in town with one of them. I am +astonished you have not met her before.” + +The wherry slid up to the steps and the man in his great boots slipped +over the side to steady it. + +“Now is the time to begin your philosophy,” said More as Ralph stepped +in, “and a Socrates is ready. Talk it over, Mr. Torridon.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +RALPH’S INTERCESSION + + +Ralph was astonished to find how the thought of the tall girl he had met +at Sir Thomas More’s house remained with him. He had reported the result +of his interview with More himself to his master; and Cromwell had +received it rather coldly. He had sniffed once or twice. + +“That was not very well done, Mr. Torridon. I fear that you have +frightened him, and gained nothing by it.” + +Ralph stood silent. + +“But I see you make no excuses,” went on Cromwell, “so I will make them +for you. I daresay he was frightened already; and knew all about what +had passed between her and the Archbishop. You must try again, sir.” + +Ralph felt his heart stir with pleasure. + +“I may say I have made friends with Mr. More, sir,” he said. “I had good +fortune in the matter of a quotation, and he received me kindly. I can +go there again without excusing my presence, as often as you will.” + +Cromwell looked at him. + +“There is not much to be gained now,” he said, “but you can go if you +will; and you may perhaps pick up something here and there. The more +friends you make the better.” + +Ralph went away delighted; he had not wholly failed then in his master’s +business, and he seemed to have set on foot a business of his own; and +he contemplated with some excitement his future visits to Chelsea. + + * * * * * + +He had his first word with the King a couple of months later. He had +often, of course, seen him before, once or twice in the House of Lords, +formidable and frowning on his throne, his gross chin on his hand, +barking out a word or two to his subjects, or instructing them in +theology, for which indeed he was very competent; and several times in +processions, riding among his gentlemen on his great horse, splendid in +velvet and gems; and he had always wondered what it was that gave him +his power. It could not be mere despotism, he thought, or his burly +English nature; and it was not until he had seen him near at hand, and +come within range of his personality that he understood why it was that +men bore such things from him. + +He was sent for one afternoon by Cromwell to bring a paper and was taken +up at once by a servant into the gallery where the minister and the King +were walking together. They were at the further end from that at which +he entered, and he stood, a little nervous at his heart, but with his +usual appearance of self-possession, watching the two great backs turned +to him, and waiting to be called. + +They turned again in a moment, and Cromwell saw him and beckoned, +himself coming a few steps to meet him. The King waited, and Ralph was +aware of, rather than saw, that wide, coarse, strong face, and the long +narrow eyes, with the feathered cap atop, and the rich jewelled dress +beneath. The King stood with his hands behind his back and his legs well +apart. + +Cromwell took the paper from Ralph, who stepped back, hesitating what to +do. + +“This is it, your Grace,” said the minister going back again. “Your +Grace will see that it is as I said.” + +Ralph perceived a new tone of deference in his master’s voice that he +had never noticed before, except once when Cromwell was ironically +bullying a culprit who was giving trouble. + +The King said nothing, took the paper and glanced over it, standing a +little aside to let the light fall on it. + +“Your Grace will understand--” began Cromwell again. + +“Yes, yes, yes,” said the harsh voice impatiently. “Let the fellow take +it back,” and he thrust the paper into Cromwell’s hand, who turned once +more to Ralph. + +“Who is he?” said the King. “I have seen his face. Who are you?” + +“This is Mr. Ralph Torridon,” said Cromwell; “a very useful friend to +me, your Grace.” + +“The Torridons of Overfield?” questioned Henry once more, who never +forgot a face or a name. + +“Yes, your Grace,” said Cromwell. + +“You are tall enough, sir,” said the King, running his narrow eyes up +and down Ralph’s figure;--“a strong friend.” + +“I hope so, your Grace,” said Ralph. + +The King again looked at him, and Ralph dropped his eyes in the glare of +that mighty personality. Then Henry abruptly thrust out his hand to be +kissed, and as Ralph bent over it he was aware of the thick straight +fingers, the creased wrist, and the growth of hair on the back of the +hand. + + * * * * * + +Ralph was astonished, and a little ashamed at his own excitement as he +passed down the stairs again. It was so little that had happened; his +own part had been so insignificant; and yet he was tingling from head to +foot. He felt he knew now a little better how it was that the King’s +will, however outrageous in its purposes, was done so quickly. It was +the sheer natural genius of authority and royalty that forced it +through; he had felt himself dominated and subdued in those few moments, +so that he was not his own master. As he went home through the street or +two that separated the Palace gate from his own house, he found himself +analysing the effect of that presence, and, in spite of its repellence, +its suggestion of coarseness, and its almost irritating imperiousness, +he was conscious that there was a very strong element of attractiveness +in it too. It seemed to him the kind of attractiveness that there is for +a beaten dog in the chastising hand: the personality was so overwhelming +that it compelled allegiance, and that not wholly one of fear. He found +himself thinking of Queen Katharine and understanding a little better +how it was that the refined, delicately nurtured and devout woman, so +constant in her prayers, so full of the peculiar fineness of character +that gentle birth and religion alone confer, could so cling to this +fierce lord of hers, throw herself at his feet with tears before all the +company, and entreat not to be separated from him, calling him her “dear +lord,” her “love,” and her most “merciful and gracious prince.” + + * * * * * + +The transition from this train of thought to that bearing on Beatrice +was not a difficult one; for the memory of the girl was continually in +his mind. He had seen her half a dozen times now since their first +meeting; for he had availed himself to the full of Cromwell’s +encouragement to make himself at home at Chelsea; and he found that his +interest in her deepened every time. With a touch of amusement he found +himself studying Horace and Terence again, not only for Sir Thomas +More’s benefit, but in order to win his approval and his good report to +his household, among whom Beatrice was practically to be reckoned. + +He was pleased too by More’s account of Beatrice. + +“She is nearly as good a scholar as my dear Meg,” he had said one day. +“Try her, Mr. Torridon.” + +Ralph had carefully prepared an apt quotation that day, and fired it off +presently, not at Beatrice, but, as it were, across her; but there was +not the faintest response or the quiver of an eyelid. + +There was silence a moment; and then Sir Thomas burst out-- + +“You need not look so demure, my child; we all know that you +understand.” + +Beatrice had given him a look of tranquil amusement in return. + +“I will not be made a show of,” she said. + +Ralph went away that day more engrossed than ever. He began to ask +himself where his interest in her would end; and wondered at its +intensity. + +As he questioned himself about it, it seemed that to him it was to a +great extent her appearance of detached self-possession that attracted +him. It was the quality that he most desired for himself, and one which +he had in measure attained; but he was aware that in the presence of +Cromwell at least it deserted him. He knew well that he had found his +master there, and that he himself was nothing more than a +hero-worshipper before a shrine; but it provoked him to feel that there +was no one who seemed to occupy the place of a similar divinity with +regard to this girl. Obviously she admired and loved Sir Thomas +More--Ralph soon found out how deeply in the course of his visits--but +she was not in the least afraid of her friend. She serenely contradicted +him when she disagreed with what he said, would fail to keep her +appointments at his house with the same equanimity, and in spite of Sir +Thomas’s personality never appeared to give him more than a friendly and +affectionate homage. With regard to Ralph himself, it was the same. She +was not in the least awed by him, or apparently impressed by his +reputation which at this time was growing rapidly as that of a capable +and daring agent of Cromwell’s; and even once or twice when he +condescended to hint at the vastness of the affairs on which he was +engaged, in a desperate endeavour to rouse her admiration, she only +looked at him steadily a moment with very penetrating eyes, and began to +speak of something else. He began to feel discouraged. + + * * * * * + +The first hint that Ralph had that he had been making a mistake in his +estimate of her, came from Margaret Roper, who was still living at +Chelsea with her husband Will. + +Ralph had walked up to the house one bleak afternoon in early spring +along the river-bank from Westminster, and had found Margaret alone in +the dining-hall, seated by the window with her embroidery in her hand, +and a Terence propped open on the sill to catch the last gleams of light +from the darkening afternoon. She greeted Ralph warmly, for he was a +very familiar figure to them all by now, and soon began to talk, when he +had taken a seat by the wide open fireplace whence the flames flickered +out, casting shadows and lights round the high room, across the +high-hung tapestries and in the gloomy corners. + +“Beatrice is here,” she said presently, “upstairs with father. I think +she is doing some copying for him.” + +“She is a great deal with him,” observed Ralph. + +“Why, yes; father thinks so much of her. He says that none can write so +well as she, or has such a quick brain. And then she does not talk, he +says, nor ask foolish woman-questions like the rest of us.” And Margaret +glanced up a moment, smiling. + +“I suppose I must not go up,” said Ralph, a little peevishly; for he was +tired with his long day. + +“Why, no, you must not,” said Margaret, “but she will be down soon, Mr. +Torridon.” + +There was silence for a moment or two; and then Margaret spoke again. + +“Mr. Torridon,” she said, “may I say something?” Ralph made a little +sound of assent. The warmth of the fire was making him sleepy. + +“Well, it is this,” said Margaret slowly, “I think you believe that +Beatrice does not like you. That is not true. She is very fond of you; +she thinks a great deal of you,” she added, rather hastily. + +Ralph sat up; his drowsiness was gone. + +“How do you know that, Mrs. Roper?” he asked. His voice sounded +perfectly natural, and Margaret was reassured at the tone of it. She +could not see Ralph well; it was getting dark now. + +“I know it well,” she said. “Of course we talk of you when you are +gone.” + +“And does Mrs. Beatrice talk of me?” + +“Not so much,” said Margaret, “but she listens very closely; and asks us +questions sometimes.” The girl’s heart was beating with excitement as +she spoke; but she had made up her mind to seek this opportunity. It +seemed a pity, she thought, that two friends of hers should so +misunderstood one another. + +“And what kind of questions?” asked Ralph again. + +“She wonders--what you really think--” went on Margaret slowly, bending +down over her embroidery, and punctuating her words with +stitches--“about--about affairs--and--and she said one day that--” + +“Well?” said Ralph in the same tone. + +“That she thought you were not so severe as you seemed,” ended Margaret, +her voice a little tremulous with amusement. + +Ralph sat perfectly still, staring at the great fire-plate on which a +smoky Phoebus in relief drove the chariot of the sun behind the tall +wavering flames that rose from the burning logs. He knew very well why +Margaret had spoken, and that she would not speak without reason; but +the fact revealed was so bewilderingly new to him that he could not take +it in. Margaret looked at him once or twice a little uneasily; and at +last sighed. + +“It is too dark,” she said, “I must fetch candles.” + +She slipped out of the side-door that led to the servants’ quarters, and +Ralph was left alone. All his weariness was gone now; the whirl of +images and schemes with which his brain had been seething as he walked +up the river-bank half-an-hour before, had receded into obscurity; and +one dominating thought filled their place: What if Margaret were right? +And what did he mean to do himself? Surely he was not-- + +The door from the entrance passage opened, and a tall slender figure +stood there, now in light, now in shadow, as the flames rose and fell. + +“Meg,” said a voice. + +Ralph sat still a moment longer. + +“Meg,” said Beatrice again, “how dark you are.” + +Ralph stood up. + +“Mrs. Roper has just gone,” he said, “you must put up with me, Mrs. +Beatrice.” + +“Who is it?” said the girl advancing. “Mr. Torridon?” + +She had a paper in her hand as she came across the floor, and Ralph drew +out a chair for her on the other side of the hearth. + +“Yes,” he said. “Mrs. Roper has gone for lights. She will be back +immediately.” + +Beatrice sat down. + +“It is a troublesome word,” she said. “Master More cannot read it +himself, and has sent me to ask Meg. He says that every dutiful daughter +should be able to read her father’s hand.” + +And Ralph could see a faint amused smile in her black eyes, as the +firelight shone on them. + +“Master More always has an escape ready,” he said, as he too sat down. + +The girl’s hand holding the paper suddenly dropped on to her knee, and +the man saw she was looking at him oddly. + +“Yes?” he said interrogatively; and then-- + +“Why do you look at me like that, Mrs. Beatrice?” + +“It is what you said. Do you really think that, Mr. Torridon?” + +Ralph was bewildered for a moment. + +“I do not understand,” he said. + +“Do you truly think he always has an escape ready?” repeated the girl. + +Then Ralph understood. + +“You mean he is in danger,” he said steadily. “Well, of course he is. +There is no great man that is not. But I do not see why he should not +escape as he has always done.” + +“You think that, Mr. Torridon?” + +“Why, yes;” went on Ralph, a little hastily. “You remember the matter +of the bribe. See how he cleared himself. Surely, Mrs. Beatrice--” + +“And you really think so,” said the girl. “I know that you know what we +do not; and I shall believe what you say.” + +“How can I tell?” remonstrated Ralph. “I can only tell you that in this +matter I know nothing that you do not. Master More is under no +suspicion.” + +Beatrice drew a breath of relief. + +“I am glad I spoke to you, sir,” she said. “It has been on my mind. And +something that he said a few minutes ago frightened me.” + +“What did he say?” asked Ralph curiously. + +“Ah! it was not much. It was that no man knew what might come next; that +matters were very strange and dismaying--and--and that he wanted this +paper copied quickly, for fear--” + +The girl stopped again, abruptly. + +“I know what you feel, Mrs. Beatrice,” said Ralph gently. “I know how +you love Master More, and how terrified we may become for our friends.” + +“What do you think yourself, Mr. Torridon,” she said suddenly, almost +interrupting him. + +He looked at her doubtfully a moment, and half wished that Margaret +would come back. + +“That is a wide question,” he said. + +“Well, you know what I mean,” she said coolly, completely herself again. +She was sitting back in her chair now, drawing the paper serenely to and +fro between her fingers; and he could see the firelight on her chin and +brows, and those steady eyes watching him. He had an impulse of +confidence. + +“I do think changes are coming,” he said. “I suppose we all do.” + +“And you approve?” + +“Oh! how can I say off-hand?--But I think changes are needed.” + +She was looking down at the fire again now, and did not speak for a +moment. + +“Master More said you were of the new school,” she said meditatively. + +Ralph felt a curious thrill of exultation. Margaret was right then; this +girl had been thinking about him. + +“There is certainly a stirring,” he said; and his voice was a little +restrained. + +“Oh, I am not blind or deaf,” said the girl. “Of course, there is a +stirring--but I wondered--” + +Then Margaret came in with the candles. + +Ralph went away that evening more excited than he liked. It seemed as if +Mistress Roper’s words had set light to a fire ready laid, and he could +perceive the warmth beginning to move about his heart and odd wavering +lights flickering on his circumstances and business that had not been +there before. + + * * * * * + +He received his first letter from Beatrice a few weeks later, and it +threw him into a strait between his personal and official claims. + +Cromwell at this time was exceedingly occupied with quelling the ardour +of the House of Lords, who were requesting that the Holy Maid of Kent +and her companions might have an opportunity of defending themselves +before the Act of Attainder ordered by the King was passed against them; +but he found time to tell his agent that trouble was impending over More +and Fisher; and to request him to hand in any evidence that he might +have against the former. + +“I suppose we shall have to let the Bishop off with a fine,” said the +minister, “in regard to the Maid’s affair; but we shall catch him +presently over the Act; and Mr. More is clear of it. But we shall have +him too in a few days. Put down what you have to say, Mr. Torridon, and +let me have it this evening.” + +And then he rustled off down the staircase to where his carriage was +waiting to take him to Westminster, where he proposed to tell the +scrupulous peers that the King was not accustomed to command twice, and +that to suspect his Grace of wishing them to do an injustice was a piece +of insolence that neither himself nor his royal master had expected of +them. + +Ralph was actually engaged in putting down his very scanty accusations +against Sir Thomas More when the letter from Beatrice was brought up to +him. He read it through twice in silence; and then ordered the courier +to wait below. When the servant had left the room, he read it through a +third time. + +It was not long; but it was pregnant. + +“I entreat you, sir,” wrote the girl, “for the love of Jesu, to let us +know if anything is designed against our friend. Three weeks ago you +told me it was not so; I pray God that may be true still. I know that +you would not lift a finger against him yourself--” (Ralph glanced at +his own neat little list at these words, and bit his pen)--“but I wish +you to do what you can for him and for us all.” Then followed an +erasure. + +Ralph carried the paper to the window, flattened it against the panes +and read clearly the words, “If my” under the scratching lines, and +smiled to himself as he guessed what the sentence was that she was +beginning. + +Then the letter continued. + +“I hear on good authority that there is something against him. He will +not escape; and will do nothing on such hearsay, but only tells us to +trust God, and laughs at us all. Good Mr. Torridon, do what you can. +Your loving friend, B.A.” + +Ralph went back from the window where he was still standing, and sat +down again, bending his head into his hands. He had no sort of scruples +against lying as such or betraying Mr. More’s private conversation; his +whole training was directed against such foolishness, and he had learnt +at last from Cromwell’s incessant precept and example that the good of +the State over-rode all private interests. But he had a disinclination +to lie to Beatrice; and he felt simply unable to lose her friendship by +telling her the truth. + +As he sat there perfectly still, the servant peeped in once softly to +see if the answer was ready, and noiselessly withdrew. Ralph did not +stir; but still sat on, pressing his eyeballs till they ached and fiery +rings twisted before him in the darkness. Then he abruptly sat up, +blinked a moment or two, took up a pen, bit it again, and laid it down +and sat eyeing the two papers that lay side by side on his desk. + +He took up his own list, and read it through. After all, it was very +insignificant, and contained no more than minute scraps of conversation +that Sir Thomas More had let drop. He had called Queen Katharine “poor +woman” three or four times; had expressed a reverence for the Pope of +Rome half a dozen times, and had once called him the Vicar of Christ. He +had been silent when someone had mentioned Anne Boleyn’s name; he had +praised the Carthusians and the Religious Life generally, at some +length. + +They were the kind of remarks that might mean nothing or a great deal; +they were consistent with loyalty; they were not inconsistent with +treason; in fact they were exactly the kind of material out of which +serious accusations might be manufactured by a skilled hand, though as +they stood they proved nothing. + +A further consideration to Ralph was his duty to Cromwell; he scarcely +felt it seemly to lie whole-heartedly to him; and on the other hand he +felt now simply unable to lie to Beatrice. There was only one way out of +it,--to prevaricate to them both. + +He took up his own paper, glanced at it once more; and then with a +slightly dramatic gesture tore it across and across, and threw it on the +ground. Then he took up his pen and wrote to Beatrice. + +“I have only had access to one paper against our friend--that I have +destroyed, though I do not know what Master Cromwell will say. But I +tell you this to show at what a price I value your friendship. + +“Of course our friend is threatened. Who is not in these days? But I +swear to you that I do not know what is the design.” + +He added a word or two more for politeness’ sake, prayed that “God might +have her in His keeping,” and signed himself as she had done, her +“loving friend.” + +Then he dried the ink with his pounce box, sealed the letter with great +care, and took it down to the courier himself. + + * * * * * + +He faced Cromwell in the evening with a good deal of terror, but with +great adroitness; swore positively that More had said nothing actually +treasonable, and had found, on putting pen to paper, that the +accusations were flimsier than he thought. + +“But it is your business to see that they be not so,” stormed his +master. Ralph paused a moment respectfully. + +“I cannot make a purse out of a sow’s ear, sir. I must have at least +some sort of silk.” + +When Cromwell had ceased to walk up and down, Ralph pointed out with +considerable shrewdness that he did not suppose that his evidence was +going to form the main ground of the attack on More; and that it would +merely weaken the position to bring such feeble arguments to bear. + +“Why he would tear them to shreds, sir, in five minutes; he would make +out that they were our principal grounds--he is a skilled lawyer. If I +may dare to say so, Master Cromwell, let your words against Mr. More be +few and choice.” + +This was bolder speaking than he had ever ventured on before; but +Cromwell was in a good humour. The peers had proved tractable and had +agreed to pass the attainder against Elizabeth Barton without any more +talk of justice and the accused’s right of defence; and he looked now at +Ralph with a grim approval. + +“I believe you are right, Mr. Torridon. I will think over it.” + +A week later the blow fell. + + * * * * * + +Cromwell looked up at him one Sunday evening as he came into the room, +with his papers, and without any greeting spoke at once. + +“I wish you to go to Lambeth House to-morrow morning early, Mr. +Torridon. Master More is to be there to have the Oath of Succession +tendered to him with the others. Do your best to persuade him to take +it; be his true friend.” + +A little grim amusement shone in his eyes as he spoke. Ralph looked at +him a moment. + +“I mean it, Mr. Torridon: do your best. I wish him to think you his +friend.” + + * * * * * + +As Ralph went across the Thames in a wherry the following morning, he +was still thinking out the situation. Apparently Cromwell wished to keep +in friendly touch with More; and this now, of course, was only possible +through Ralph, and would have been impossible if the latter’s evidence +had been used, or were going to be used. It was a relief to him to know +that the consummation of his treachery was postponed at least for the +present; (but he would not have called it treachery). + +As Lambeth towers began to loom ahead, Ralph took out Beatrice’s letter +that had come in answer to his own a few days before, and ran his eyes +over it. It was a line of passionate thanks and blessing. Surely he had +reached her hidden heart at last. He put the letter back in his inner +pocket, just before he stepped ashore. It no doubt would be a useful +evidence of his own sincerity in his interview with More. + +There was a great crowd in the court as he passed through, for many were +being called to take the oath, which, however, was not made strictly +legal until the following Second Act in the autumn. Several carriages +were drawn up near the house door, and among them Ralph recognised the +liveries of his master and of Lord Chancellor Audley. A number of horses +and mules too were tethered to rings in the wall on the other side with +grooms beside them, and ecclesiastics and secretaries were coming and +going, disputing in groups, calling to one another, in the pleasant +April sunshine. + +On enquiry he found that the Commissioners were sitting in one of the +downstair parlours; but one of Cromwell’s servants at the door told him +that he was not to go in there, but that Mr. More was upstairs by +himself, and that if he pleased he would show him the way. + +It was an old room looking on to the garden, scantily furnished, with a +patch of carpet by the window and a table and chair set upon it. More +turned round from the window-seat on which he was kneeling to look out, +and smiled genially as Ralph heard the servant close the door. + +“Why, Mr. Torridon, are you in trouble too? This is the detention-room +whither I am sent to consider myself.” + +He led Ralph, still holding his hand, to the window-seat, where he +leaned again looking eagerly into the garden. + +“There go the good boys,” he said, “to and fro in the playground; and +here sit I. I suppose I have nothing but the rod to look for.” + +Ralph felt a little awkward in the presence of this gaiety; and for a +minute or two leaned out beside More, staring mechanically at the +figures that passed up and down. He had expected almost to find him at +his prayers, or at least thoughtfully considering himself. + +More commented agreeably on the passers-by. + +“Dr. Wilson was here a moment ago; but he is off now, with a man on +either side. He too is a naughty fellow like myself, and will not listen +to reason. There is the Vicar of Croydon, good man, coming out of the +buttery wiping his mouth.” + +Ralph looked down at the priest’s flushed excited face; he was talking +with a kind of reckless gaiety to a friend who walked beside him. + +“He was sad enough just now,” went on the other, “while he was still +obstinate; but his master hath patted him on the head now and given him +cake and wine. He was calling out for a drink just now (which he hath +got, I see) either for gladness or for dryness, or else that we might +know _quod ille notus erat pontifici_.” + +Dr. Latimer passed presently, his arms on either side flung round a +priest’s neck; he too was talking volubly and laughing; and the skirts +of his habit wagged behind him. + +“He is in high feather,” said More, “and I have no doubt that his +conscience is as clear as his eyes. Come, Mr. Torridon; sit you down. +What have you come for?” + +Ralph sat back on the window-seat with his back to the light, and his +hat between his knees. + +“I came to see you, sir; I have not been to the Commissioners. I heard +you were here.” + +“Why, yes,” said More, “here I am.” + +“I came to see if I could be of any use to you, Master More; I know a +friend’s face is a good councillor sometimes, even though that friend be +a fool.” + +More patted him softly on the knee. + +“No fool,” he said, “far from it.” + +He looked at him so oddly that Ralph feared that he suspected him; so he +made haste to bring out Beatrice’s letter. + +“Mistress Atherton has written me this,” he said. “I was able to do her +a little service--at least I thought it so then.” + +More took the letter and glanced at it. + +“A very pretty letter,” he said, “and why do you show it me?” + +Ralph looked at him steadily. + +“Because I am Master Cromwell’s servant; and you never forget it.” + +More burst into a fit of laughter; and then took Ralph kindly by the +hand. + +“You are either very innocent or very deep,” he said. “And what have you +come to ask me?” + +“I have come to ask nothing, Master More,” said Ralph indignantly, +withdrawing his hand--“except to be of service to you.” + +“To talk about the oath,” corrected the other placidly. “Very well then. +Do you begin, Mr. Torridon.” + +Ralph made a great effort, for he was sorely perplexed by Sir Thomas’ +attitude, and began to talk, putting all the reasons forward that he +could think of for the accepting of the oath. He pointed out that +government and allegiance would be impossible things if every man had to +examine for himself the claims of his rulers; when vexed and elaborate +questions arose--and this certainly was one such--was it not safer to +follow the decrees of the King and Parliament, rather than to take up a +position of private judgment, and decide upon details of which a subject +could have no knowledge? How, too, could More, under the circumstances, +take upon himself to condemn those who had subscribed the oath?--he +named a few eminent prelates, the Abbot of Westminster and others. + +“I do not condemn them,” put in More, who was looking interested. + +“Then you are uncertain of the matter?” went on Ralph who had thought +out his line of argument with some care. + +More assented. + +“But your duty to the King’s grace is certain; therefore it should +outweigh a thing that is doubtful.” + +Sir Thomas sucked in his lower lip, and stared gravely on the young +man. + +“You are very shrewd, sir,” he said. “I do not know how to answer that +at this moment; but I have no reasonable doubt but that there is an +answer.” + +Ralph was delighted with his advantage, and pursued it eagerly; and +after a few minutes had won from More an acknowledgment that he might be +willing to consider the taking of the oath itself; it was the other +clauses that touched his conscience more. He could swear to be loyal to +Anne’s children; but he could not assent to the denunciation of the Pope +contained in the preamble of the Act, and the oath would commit him to +that. + +“But you will tell that to the Commissioners, sir?” asked Ralph eagerly. + +“I will tell them all that I have told you,” said More smiling. + +Ralph himself was somewhat doubtful as to whether the concession would +be accepted; but he professed great confidence, and secretly +congratulated himself with having made so much way. But presently a +remark of More’s showed that he appreciated the situation. + +“I am very grateful to you, Mr. Torridon, for coming and talking to me; +and I shall tell my wife and children so. But it is of no use. They are +resolved to catch me. First there was the bribe; then the matter of the +Maid; then this; and if I took a hundred oaths they would find one more +that I could not, without losing my soul; and that indeed I do not +propose to do. _Quid enim proficit homo?_” + +There was a knock at the door a moment later, and a servant came in to +beg Mr. More to come downstairs again; the Commissioners were ready for +him. + +“Then good-day, Mr. Torridon. You will come and see me sometimes, even +if not at Chelsea. Wherever I may be it will be as nigh heaven as +Chelsea.” + +Ralph went down with him, and parted from him at the door of the +Commissioner’s room; and half-an-hour later a message was sent out to +him by Cromwell that he need wait no longer; Mr. More had refused the +oath, and had been handed over to the custody of the Abbot of +Westminster. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A MERRY PRISONER + + +The arrest of Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fisher and their committal to +the Tower a few days later caused nothing less than consternation in +England and of furious indignation on the Continent. It was evident that +greatness would save no man; the best hope lay in obscurity, and men who +had been loud in self-assertion now grew timorous and silent. + +Ralph was now in the thick of events. Besides his connection with More, +he had been present at one of the examinations of the Maid of Kent and +her admirers; had formed one of the congregation at Paul’s Cross when +the confession drawn up for her had been read aloud in her name by Dr. +Capon, who from the pulpit opposite the platform where the penitents +were set, preached a vigorous sermon against credulity and superstition. +Ralph had read the confession over a couple of days before in Cromwell’s +room, and had suggested a few verbal alterations; and he had been +finally present, a few days after More’s arrest, at the last scene of +the drama, when Elizabeth Barton, with six priests, suffered, under the +provisions of an act of attainder, on Tyburn gallows. + +All these events were indications of the course that things were taking +in regard to greater matters. Parliament had now advanced further than +ever in the direction of a breach with Rome, and had transferred the +power of nomination to bishoprics from the Holy See to the Crown, and, +what was at least as significant, had dealt in a similar manner with the +authority over Religious houses. + +On the other side, Rome had declared definitely against the annulling of +Queen Katharine’s marriage, and to this the King had retorted by turning +the pulpits against the Pope, and in the course of this had found +himself compelled to deal sharply with the Franciscans, who were at the +same time the most popular and the most papal of all preachers. In the +following out of this policy, first several notable friars were +imprisoned, and next a couple of subservient Religious, a Dominican and +an Augustinian, were appointed grand visitors of the rebellious Order. + +A cloud of terror now began to brood over the Religious houses in +England, as the news of these proceedings became known, and Ralph had a +piteous letter from his father, entreating him to give some explanation +of the course of affairs so far as was compatible with loyalty to his +master, and at least his advice as to Christopher’s profession. + +“We hear sad tales, dear son,” wrote Sir James, “on all sides are fears, +and no man knows what the end will be. Some even say that the Orders +will be reduced in number. And who knows what may be toward now that the +Bishop and Mr. More are in trouble. I know not what is all this that +Parliament has been doing about the Holy Father his authority; but I am +sure that it cannot be more than what other reigns have brought about in +declaring that the Prince is temporal lord of his land. But, however +that may be, what do you advise that your brother should do? He is to be +professed in August, unless it is prevented, and I dare not put out my +hand to hinder it, until I know more. I do not ask you, dear son, to +tell me what you should not; I know my duty and yours too well for that. +But I entreat you to tell me what you can, that I may not consent to +your brother’s profession if it is better that it should not take place +until affairs are quieter. Your mother would send you her dear love, I +know, if she knew I were writing, but she is in her chamber, and the +messenger must go with this. Jesu have you in His blessed keeping!” + +Ralph wrote back that he knew no reason against Christopher’s +profession, except what might arise from the exposure of the Holy Maid +on whose advice he had gone to Lewes, and that if his father and brother +were satisfied on that score, he hoped that Christopher would follow +God’s leading. + +At the same time that he wrote this he was engaged, under Cromwell’s +directions, in sifting the evidence offered by the grand visitors to +show that the friars refused to accept the new enactments on the subject +of the papal jurisdiction. + + * * * * * + +On the other hand, the Carthusians in London had proved more submissive. +There had been a struggle at first when the oath of the succession had +been tendered to them, and Prior Houghton, with the Procurator, Humphrey +Middlemore, had been committed to the Tower. The oath affirmed the +nullity of Queen Katharine’s marriage with the King on the alleged +ground of her consummated marriage with Henry’s elder brother, and +involved, though the Carthusians did not clearly understand it so at the +time, a rejection of the Pope’s authority as connected with the +dispensation for Katharine’s union with Henry. In May their scruples +were removed by the efforts of some who had influence with them, and the +whole community took the oath as required of them, though with the +pathetic addition of a clause that they only submitted “so far as it +was lawful for them so to do.” This actual submission, to Cromwell’s +mind and therefore to Ralph’s, was at first of more significance than +was the uneasy temper of the community, as reported to them, which +followed their compliance; but as the autumn drew on this opinion was +modified. + +It was in connection with this that Ralph became aware for the first +time of what was finally impending with regard to the King’s supremacy +over the Church. + +He had been sitting in Cromwell’s room in the Chancery all through one +morning, working at the evidence that was flowing in from all sides of +disaffection to Henry’s policy, sifting out worthless and frivolous +charges from serious ones. Every day a flood of such testimony poured in +from the spies in all parts of the country, relating to the deepening +dissatisfaction with the method of government; and Cromwell, as the +King’s adviser, came in for much abuse. Every kind of manifestation of +this was reported, the talk in the ale-houses and at gentlemen’s tables +alike, words dropped in the hunting-field or over a game of cards; and +the offenders were dealt with in various ways, some by a sharp rebuke or +warning, others by a sudden visit of a pursuivant and his men. + +Ralph made his report as usual at the end of the morning, and was on the +point of leaving, when his master called him back from the door. + +“A moment,” he said, “I have something to say. Sit down.” + +When Ralph had taken the chair again that he had just left, Cromwell +took up a pen, and began to play with it delicately as he talked. + +“You will have noticed,” he began, “how hot the feeling runs in the +country, and I am sure you will also have understood why it is so. It +is not so much what has happened,--I mean in the matter of the marriage +and of the friars,--but what folk fear is going to happen. It seems to +the people that security is disappearing; they do not understand that +their best security lies in obedience. And, above all, they think that +matters are dangerous with regard to the Church. They know now that the +Pope has spoken, and that the King pays no heed, but, on the other hand, +waxes more bold. And that because his conscience bids him. Remember +that, sir, when you have to do with his Highness.” + +He glanced at Ralph again, but there was no mockery in his solemn eyes. +Then he went on. + +“I am going to tell you, Mr. Torridon, that these folks are partly +right, and that his Grace has not yet done all that he intends. There is +yet one more step to take--and that is to declare the King supreme over +the Church of England.” + +Ralph felt those strong eyes bent upon him, and he nodded, making no +sign of approval or otherwise. + +“This is no new thing, Mr. Torridon,” went on Cromwell, after a moment’s +silence. “The King of England has always been supreme, though I will +acknowledge that this has become obscured of late. But it is time that +it be re-affirmed. The Popes have waxed presumptuous, and have laid +claim to titles that Christ never gave them, and it is time that they be +reminded that England is free, and will not suffer their domination. As +for the unity of the Catholic Church, that can be attended to later on, +and on firmer ground; when the Pope has been taught not to wax so proud. +There will be an Act passed by Parliament presently, perhaps next year, +to do this business, and then we shall know better what to do. Until +that, it is very necessary, as you have already seen, to keep the folks +quiet, and not to suffer any contradiction of his Grace’s rights. Do you +understand me, Mr. Torridon?” + +Cromwell laid the pen clown and leaned back in his chair, with his +fingers together. + +“I understand, sir,” said Ralph, in a perfectly even tone. + +“Well, that is all that I have to say,” ended his master, still watching +him. “I need not tell you how necessary secrecy is in the matter.” + +Ralph was considerably startled as he went home, and realized better +what it was that he had heard. While prudent persons were already +trembling at the King’s effrontery and daring in the past, Henry was +meditating a yet further step. He began to see now that the instinct of +the country was, as always, sharper than that of the individual, and +that these uneasy strivings everywhere rose from a very definite +perception of danger. The idea of the King’s supremacy, as represented +by Cromwell, would not seem to be a very startling departure; similar +protests of freedom had been made in previous reigns, but now, following +as it did upon overt acts of disobedience to the Sovereign Pontiff, and +of disregard of his authority in matters of church-law and even of the +status of Religious houses, it seemed to have a significance that +previous protests had lacked. + +And behind it all was the King’s conscience! This was a new thought to +Ralph, but the more he considered it the more it convinced him. It was a +curious conscience, but a mighty one, and it was backed by an +indomitable will. For the first time there opened out to Ralph’s mind a +glimpse of the possibility that he had scarcely dreamed of hitherto--of +a Nationalism in Church affairs that was a reality rather than a +theory--in which the Bishop of Rome while yet the foremost bishop of +Christendom and endowed with special prerogatives, yet should have no +finger in national affairs, which should be settled by the home +authorities without reference to him. No doubt, he told himself, a +readjustment was needed--visions and fancies had encrusted themselves so +quickly round the religion credible by a practical man that a scouring +was called for. How if this should be the method by which not only such +accretions should be done away, but yet more practical matters should be +arranged, and steps taken to amend the unwarranted interferences and +pecuniary demands of this foreign bishop? + +He had had more than one interview with Sir Thomas More in the Tower, +and once was able to take him news of his own household at Chelsea. For +a month none of his own people, except his servant, was allowed to visit +him, and Ralph, calling on him about three weeks after the beginning of +his imprisonment, found him eager for news. + +He was in a sufficiently pleasant cell in the Beauchamp Tower, furnished +with straw mats underfoot, and straw hangings in place of a wainscot; +his bed stood in one corner, with his crucifix and beads on a little +table beside it, and his narrow window looked out through eleven feet of +wall towards the Court and the White Tower. His books, too, which his +servant, John Wood, had brought from Chelsea, and which had not yet been +taken from him, stood about the room, and several lay on the table among +his papers, at which he was writing when Ralph was admitted by the +warder. + +“I am very glad to see you, Mr. Torridon,” he said, “I knew you would +not forget an old friend, even though he could not take your counsel. I +daresay you have come to give it me again, however.” + +“If I thought you would take it,” began Ralph. + +“But I will not,” said More smiling, “no more than before. Sit down, Mr. +Torridon.” + +Ralph had come at Cromwell’s suggestion, and with a very great +willingness of his own, too. He knew he could not please Beatrice more +than by visiting her friend, and he himself was pleased and amused to +think that he could serve his master’s interests from one side and his +own from another by one action. + +He talked a little about the oath again, and mentioned how many had +taken it during the last week or two. + +“I am pleased that they can do it with a good conscience,” observed +More. “And now let us talk of other matters. If I would not do it for my +daughter’s sake, who begged me, I would not do it for the sake of both +the Houses of Parliament, nor even, dear Mr. Torridon, for yours and +Master Cromwell’s.” + +Ralph saw that it was of no use, and began to speak of other things. He +gave him news of Chelsea. + +“They are not very merry there,” he said, “and I hardly suppose you +would wish them to be.” + +“Why not?” cried More, with a beaming face, “I am merry enough. I would +not be a monk; so God hath compelled me to be one, and treats me as one +of His own spoilt children. He setteth me on His lap and dandleth me. I +have never been so happy.” + +He told Ralph presently that his chief sorrow was that he could not go +to mass or receive the sacraments. The Lieutenant, Sir Edward +Walsingham, who had been his friend, had told him that he would very +gladly have given him liberties of this kind, but that he dared not, for +fear of the King’s displeasure. + +“But I told him,” said More, “not to trouble himself that I liked his +cheer well enough as it was, and if ever I did not he was to put me out +of his doors.” + +After a little more talk he showed Ralph what he was writing. It was a +treatise called a “Dialogue of Comfort against Tribulation.” + +“It is to persuade myself,” he said, “that I am no more a prisoner than +I was before; I know I am, but sometimes forget it. We are all God’s +prisoners.” + +Ralph glanced down the page just written and was astonished at its good +humour. + +“Some prisoner of another gaol,” he read, “singeth, danceth in his two +fetters, and feareth not his feet for stumbling at a stone; while God’s +prisoner, that hath but his one foot fettered by the gout, lieth +groaning on a couch, and quaketh and crieth out if he fear there would +fall on his foot no more than a cushion.” + + * * * * * + +Ralph went straight up the river from the Tower to Chelsea to take them +news of the prisoner, and was silent and moody as he went. He had been +half touched and half enraged by More’s bearing--touched by his +simplicity and cheerfulness and enraged by his confidence in a bad +cause. + +Mrs. Alice More behaved as usual when he got there: she had a genius for +the obvious; commented on the weariness of living in one room, the +distress at the thought that one was fastened in at the will of another; +deplored the plainness of the prison fare, and the folly of her husband +in refusing an oath that she herself and her children and the vast +majority of the prominent persons in England had found so simple in +accepting. She left nothing unsaid. + +Finally, she apologized for the plainness of her dress. + +“You must think me a slattern, Mr. Torridon, but I cannot help it. I +have not the heart nor the means, now that my man is in prison, to do +better.” + +And her solemn eyes filled with tears. + +When he had given the news to the family he went aside from the group in +the garden to where Beatrice Atherton was sitting below the Jesu tree, +with work on her lap. + +He had noticed as he talked that she was sitting there, and had raised +his voice for her benefit. He fancied, and with a pleasure at the +delicate instinct, that she did not wish to appear as intimately +interested in the news from the Tower as those who had a better right to +be. He was always detecting now faint shades in her character, as he +knew her better, that charmed and delighted him. + +She was doing some mending, and only glanced up and down again without +ceasing or moving, as Ralph stood by her. + +“I thought you never used the needle,” he began in a moment. + +“It is never too late to mend,” she said, without the faintest movement. + +Ralph felt again an odd prick of happiness. It gave him a distinct +thrill of delight that she would make such an answer and so swiftly; and +at such a time, when tragedy was round her and in her heart, for he knew +how much she loved the man from whom he had just come. + +He sat down on the garden chair opposite, and watched her fingers and +the movements of her wrist as she passed the needle in and out, and +neither spoke again till the others had dispersed. + +“You heard all I said?” said Ralph at last. + +She bowed her head without answering. + +“Shall I go and bring you news again presently?” + +“If you please,” she said. + +“I hope to be able to do some little things for him,” went on Ralph, +dropping his eyes, and he was conscious that she momentarily looked up. + +--“But I am afraid there is not much. I shall speak for him to Master +Cromwell and the Lieutenant.” + +The needle paused and then went on again. + +Ralph was conscious of an extraordinary momentousness in every word that +he said. He was well aware that this girl was not to be wooed by +violence, but that he must insinuate his mind and sympathies delicately +with hers, watching for every movement and ripple of thought. He had +known ever since his talk with Margaret Roper that Beatrice was, as it +were, turned towards him and scrutinising him, and that any mistake on +his part, however slight, might finally alienate her. Even his gestures, +the tones of his voice, his manner of walking, were important elements. +He knew now that he was the kind of person who might be acceptable to +her--or rather that his personality contained one facet that pleased +her, and that he must be careful now to keep that facet turned towards +her continually at such an angle that she caught the flash. He had +sufficient sense, not to act a part, for that, he knew, she would soon +discover, but to be natural in his best way, and to use the fine +instincts that he was aware of possessing to tell him exactly how she +would wish him to express himself. It would be a long time yet, he +recognised, before he could attain his final object; in fact he was not +perfectly certain what he wanted; but meanwhile he availed himself of +every possible opportunity to get nearer, and was content with his +progress. + +He was sorely tempted now to discuss Sir Thomas’s position and to +describe his own, but he perceived from her own aloofness just now that +it would seem a profanity, so he preserved silence instead, knowing that +it would be eloquent to her. At last she spoke again, and there was a +suggestion of a tremor in her voice. + +“I suppose you can do nothing for him really? He must stay in the +Tower?” + +Ralph threw out his hands, silently, expostulating. + +“Nothing?” she said again, bending over her work. + +Ralph stood up, looking down at her, but made no answer. + +“I--I would do anything,” she said deliberately, “anything, I think, for +the man--” and then broke off abruptly. + + * * * * * + +Ralph went away from Chelsea that afternoon with a whirling head and +dancing heart. She had said no more than that, but he knew what she had +meant, and knew, too that she would not have said as much to anyone to +whom she was indifferent. Of course, it was hopeless to think of +bringing about More’s release, but he could at least pretend to try, and +Ralph was aware that to chivalrous souls a pathetic failure often +appeals more than an excellent success. + +Folks turned to look after him more than once as he strode home. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A HIGHER STEP + + +As Chris, on the eve of his profession, looked back over the year that +had passed since his reception at the guest-house, he scarcely knew +whether it seemed like a week or a century. At times it appeared as if +the old life in the world were a kind of far-away picture in which he +saw himself as one detached from his present personality, moving among +curious scenes in which now he had no part; at other times the familiar +past rushed on him fiercely, deafened him with its appeal, and claimed +him as its own. In such moods the monastery was an intolerable prison, +the day’s round an empty heart-breaking formality in which his soul was +being stifled, and even his habit, which he had once touched so +reverently, the badge of a fool. + +The life of the world at such times seemed to him the only sanity; these +men used the powers that God had given them, were content with simple +and unostentatious doings and interests, reached the higher vocation by +their very naiveté, and did not seek to fly on wings that were not meant +to bear them. How sensible, Christopher told himself, was Ralph’s ideal! +God had made the world, so Ralph lived in it--a world in which great and +small affairs were carried on, and in which he interested himself. God +had made horses and hawks, had provided materials for carriages and fine +clothes and cross-bows, had formed the sexes and allowed for love and +domestic matters, had created brains with their capacities of passion +and intellect; and so Ralph had taken these things as he found them, +hunted, dressed, lived, managed and mixed with men. At times in his cell +Chris saw that imposing figure in all its quiet bravery of dress, that +sane, clever face, those pitying and contemptuous eyes looking at him, +and heard the well-bred voice asking and commenting and wondering at the +misguided zeal of a brother who could give all this up, and seek to live +a life that was built on and sustained by illusions. + +One event during his first six months of the novitiate helped to +solemnise him and to clear the confusion. + +Old Dom Augustine was taken sick and died, and Chris for the first time +in his life watched the melting tragedy of death. The old monk had been +moved from the dormitory to the sick-room when the end seemed imminent, +and one afternoon Chris noticed the little table set outside the door, +with its candles and crucifix, the basin of cotton-wool, and the other +signs that the last sacraments were to be administered. He knew little +of the old man, except his bleared face and shaking hands as he had +seen them in choir, and had never been greatly impressed by him; but it +was another matter when in the evening of the same day, at his master’s +order he passed into the cell and knelt down with the others to see the +end. + +The old monk was lying now on the cross of ashes that had been spread on +the floor; his features looked pinched and white in the candlelight; his +old mouth moved incessantly, and opened now and again to gasp; but there +was an august dignity on his face that Chris had never seen there +before. + +Outside the night was still and frosty; only now and again the heavy +stroke of the bell told the town that a soul was passing. + +Dom Augustine had received Viaticum an hour before. Chris had heard the +steady tinkle of the bell, like the sound of Aaron’s garments, as the +priest who had brought him Communion passed back with his sacred burden, +and Chris had fallen on his knees where he stood as he caught a glimpse +of the white procession passing back to the church, their frosty breath +going up together in the winter night air, the wheeling shadows, and the +glare of the torches giving a pleasant warm light in the dull cloister. + +But all that was over now, and the end was at hand. + +As Chris knelt there, mechanically responding to the prayers on which +the monk’s soul was beginning to lift itself and flutter for escape, +there fell a great solemnity on his spirit. The thought, as old as +death, made itself real to him, that this was the end of every man and +of himself too. Where Dom Augustine lay, he would lie, with his past +behind him, of which every detail would be instinct with eternal import. +All the tiny things of the monastic life--the rising in time for the +night office, attention during it, the responses to grace, the little +movements prescribed by etiquette, the invisible motions of a soul that +had or had not acted for the love of God, those stirrings, falls, +aspirations, that incessant activity of eighty years--all so incredibly +minute from one point of view, so incredibly weighty from another--the +account of all those things was to be handed in now, and an eternal +judgment given. + +He looked at the wearied, pained old face again, at the tight-shut eyes, +the jerking movements of the unshaven lips, and wondered what was +passing behind;--what strange colloquy of the soul with itself or its +Master or great personages of the Court of Heaven. And all was set in +this little bare setting of white walls, a tumbled bed, a shuttered +window, a guttering candle or two, a cross of ashes on boards, a ring +of faces, and a murmur of prayers! + +The solemnity rose and fell in Chris’s soul like a deep organ-note +sounding and waning. How homely and tender were these last rites, this +accompaniment of the departing soul to the edge of eternity with all +that was dear and familiar to it--the drops of holy water, the mellow +light of candles, and the sonorous soothing Latin! And yet--and yet--how +powerless to save a soul that had not troubled to make the necessary +efforts during life, and had lost the power of making them now! + + * * * * * + +When all was over he went out of the cell with an indescribable gravity +at his heart. + + * * * * * + +When the great events in the spring of ’34 began to take place, Chris +was in a period of abstracted peace, and the rumours of them came to him +as cries from another planet. + +Dom Anthony Marks came into the cloister one day from the guest-house +with a great excitement in his face. + +“Here is news!” he said, joining himself to Chris and another young monk +with whom the lonely novice was sometimes allowed to walk. “Master +Humphreys, from London, tells me they are all in a ferment there.” + +Chris looked at him with a deferential coldness, and waited for more. + +“They say that Master More hath refused the oath, and that he is lodged +in the Tower, and my Lord of Rochester too.” + +The young monk burst into exclamations and questions, but Chris was +silent. It was sad enough, but what did it matter to him? What did it +really matter to anyone? God was King. + +Dom Anthony was in a hurry, and scuffled off presently to tell the +Prior, and in an hour or two there was an air of excitement through the +house. Chris, however, heard nothing more except the little that the +novice-master chose to tell him, and felt a certain contempt for the +anxious-eyed monks who broke the silence by whispers behind doors, and +the peace of the monastery by their perturbed looks. + + * * * * * + +Even when a little later in the summer the commissioner came down to +tender the oath of succession Chris heard little and cared less. He was +aware of a fine gentleman striding through the cloister, lolling in the +garth, and occupying a prominent seat in the church; he noticed that his +master was long in coming to him after the protracted chapter-meetings, +but it appeared to him all rather an irrelevant matter. These things +were surely quite apart from the business for which they were all +gathered in the house--the _opus Dei_ and the salvation of souls; this +or that legal document did not seriously affect such high matters. + +The novice-master told him presently that the community had signed the +oath, as all others were doing, and that there was no need for anxiety: +they were in the hands of their Religious Superiors. + +“I was not anxious,” said Chris abruptly, and Dom James hastened to snub +him, and to tell him that he ought to have been, but that novices always +thought they knew everything, and were the chief troubles that Religious +houses had to put up with. + +Chris courteously begged pardon, and went to his lessons wondering what +in the world all the pother was about. + +But such moods of detachment were not continuous; they visited him for +weeks at a time, when his soul was full of consolation, and he was +amazed that any other life seemed possible to anyone. He seemed to +himself to have reached the very heart and secret of existence--surely +it was plain enough; God and eternity were the only things worth +considering; a life passed in an ecstasy, if such were possible, was +surely more consonant with reality than one of ordinary activities. +Activities were, after all, but concessions to human weakness and desire +for variety; contemplation was the simple and natural attitude of a soul +that knew herself and God. + +But he was a man as well as a novice, and when these moods ebbed from +his soul they left him strangely bitter and dry: the clouds would +gather; the wind of discontent would begin to shrill about the angles of +his spirit, and presently the storm of desolation would be up. + +He had one such tempestuous mood immediately before his profession. + +During its stress he had received a letter from his father which he was +allowed to read, in which Sir James half hinted at the advisability of +postponing the irrevocable step until things were quieter, and his heart +had leaped at the possibility of escape. He did not know till then how +strong had grown the motive of appearing well in the eyes of his +relatives and of fearing to lose their respect by drawing back; and now +that his father, too, seemed to suggest that he had better re-consider +himself, it appeared that a door was opened in the high monastery wall +through which he might go through and take his honour with him. + +He passed through a terrible struggle that night. + +Never had the night-office seemed so wearisomely barren. The glamour +that had lighted those dark walls and the double row of cowls and +down-bent faces, the mystical beauty of the single flames here and +there that threw patches of light on the carving of the stalls and the +sombre habits, and gave visibility and significance to what without them +was obscure, the strange suggestiveness of the high-groined roof and the +higher vault glimmering through the summer darkness--all this had faded +and left him, as it seemed, sane and perceptive of facts at last. Out +there through those transepts lay the town where reasonable folk slept, +husband and wife together, and the children in the great bed next door, +with the tranquil ordinary day behind them and its fellow before; there +were the streets, still now and dark and empty but for the sleeping +dogs, where the signs swung and the upper stories leaned together, and +where the common life had been transacted since the birth of the town +and would continue till its decay. And beyond lay the cool round hills, +with their dark dewy slopes, over which he had ridden a year ago, and +all England beyond them again, with its human life and affairs and +interests; and over all hung the serene stars whence God looked down +well pleased with all that He had made. + +And, meanwhile, here he stood in his stall in his night shoes and black +habit and cropped head, propped on his misericorde, with the great pages +open before him, thumbed and greasy at their corners, from which he was +repeating in a loud monotone formula after formula that had had time to +grow familiar from repetition, but not yet sweet from associations--here +he stood with heavy eyelids after his short sleep, his feet aching and +hot, and his whole soul rebellious. + + * * * * * + +He was sent by his novice-master next day to the Prior, with his +father’s letter in his hand, and stood humbly by the door while the +Prior read it. Chris watched him under half-raised eye-lids; saw the +clean-cut profile with its delicate mouth bent over the paper, and the +hand with the enamelled ring turn the page. Prior Crowham was a +cultivated, well-bred man, not over strong-willed, but courteous and +sympathetic. He turned a little to Chris in his carved chair, as he laid +the letter down. + +“Well,” he said, smiling, “it is for you to choose whether you will +offer yourself. Of course, there is uneasiness abroad, as this letter +says, but what then?” + +He smiled pleasantly at the young man, and Chris felt a little ashamed. +There was silence for a moment. + +“It is for you to choose,” said the Prior again, “you have been happy +with us, I think?” + +Chris pressed his lips together and looked down. + +“Of course Satan will not leave you alone,” went on the monk presently. +“He will suggest many reasons against your profession. If he did not, I +should be afraid that you had no vocation.” + +Again he waited for an answer, and again Chris was silent. His soul was +so desolate that he could not trust himself to say all that he felt. + +“You must wait a little,” went on the Prior, “recommend yourself to our +Lady and our Patron, and then leave yourself in their hands. You will +know better when you have had a few days. Will you do this, and then +come to me again?” + +“Yes, my Lord Prior,” said Chris, and he took up the letter, bowed, and +went out. + + * * * * * + +Within the week relief and knowledge came to him. He had done what the +monk had told him, and it had been followed by a curious sense of relief +at the thought suggested to him that the responsibility of decision did +not rest on him but on his heavenly helpers. And then as he served mass +the answer came. + +It was in the chapel of the Blessed Virgin, a little building entered +from the north transept, with its windows opening directly on to the +road leading up into the town; there was no one there but the two. It +was about seven o’clock on the feast of the Seven Martyrs, and the +chapel was full of a diffused tender morning light, for the chapel was +sheltered from the direct sunshine by the tall church on its south. + +As they went up to the altar the bell sounded for the Elevation at the +high-altar of the church, at the _missa familiaris_, and the footstep of +someone passing through the north transept ceased instantly at the +sound. The priest ascended the steps, set down the vessels, spread the +corporal, opened the book, and came down again for the preparation. +There was no one else in the chapel, and the peace of the place in the +summer light, only vitalized by the brisk chirping of a sparrow under +the eaves, entered into Christopher’s soul. + +As the mass went on it seemed as if a veil were lifting from his spirit, +and leaving it free and sensible again. The things around him fell into +their proper relationships, and there was no doubt in his mind that this +newly restored significance of theirs was their true interpretation. +They seemed penetrated and suffused by the light of the inner world; the +red-brocaded chasuble moving on a level with his eyes, stirring with the +shifting of the priest’s elbows, was more than a piece of rich stuff, +the white alb beneath more than mere linen, the hood thrown back in the +amice a sacramental thing. He looked up at the smoky yellow flames +against the painted woodwork at the back of the altar, at the +discoloured stones beside the grey window-mouldings still with the +slanting marks of the chisel upon them, at the black rafters overhead, +and last out through the shafted window at the heavy July foliage of the +elm that stood by the road and the brilliant morning sky beyond; and +once more he saw what these things meant and conveyed to an immortal +soul. The words that he had said during these last weeks so mechanically +were now rich and alive again, and as he answered the priest he +perceived the spiritual vibration of them in the inner world of which +his own soul was but a part. And then the climax was reached, and he +lifted the skirt of the vestment with his left hand and shook the bell +in his right; the last shreds of confusion were gone, and his spirit +basked tranquil and content and certain again in the light that was +newly risen on him. + +He went to the novice-master after the morning-chapter, and told him +that he had made up his mind to offer himself for profession if it was +thought advisable by the authorities. + + * * * * * + +Towards the end of August he presented himself once more before the +chapter to make his solemn demand; his petition was granted, and a day +appointed for his profession. + +Then he withdrew into yet stricter seclusion to prepare for the step. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +LIFE AT LEWES + + +Under the direction of the junior-master who overlooked the young monks +for some years after their profession, Chris continued his work of +illumination, for which he had shown great aptitude during his year of +noviceship. + +The art was beginning to disappear, since the introduction of printing +had superseded the need of manuscript, but in some Religious Houses it +was still thought a suitable exercise during the hours appointed for +manual labour. + +It was soon after the beginning of the new year that Chris was entrusted +with a printed antiphonary that had its borders and initials left white; +and he carried the great loose sheets with a great deal of pride to the +little carrel or wooden stall assigned to him in the northern cloister. + +It was a tiny room, scarcely six feet square, lighted by the window into +the cloister-garth, and was almost entirely filled by the chair, the +sloping desk against the wall, and the table where the pigments and +brushes lay ready to the hand. The door opened on to the cloister itself +where the professed monks were at liberty to walk, and on the opposite +side stood the broad aumbries that held the library of the house; and it +was from the books here that Chris was allowed to draw ideas for his +designs. It was a great step in that life of minute details when now for +the first time he was permitted to follow his own views, instead of +merely filling in with colour outlines already drawn for him; and he +found his scheme for the decoration a serious temptation to distraction +during the office. As he stood among the professed monks, in his own +stall at last, he found his eyes wandering away to the capitals of the +round pillars, the stone foliage and fruit that burst out of the slender +shafts, the grim heads that strained forward in mitre and crown +overhead, and even the living faces of his brethren and superiors, clear +against the dark woodwork. When he bent his eyes resolutely on his book +he found his mind still intent on his more secular business; he mentally +corrected this awkward curve of the initial, substituted an oak spray +with acorns for that stiff monstrosity, and set my Lord Prior’s face +grinning among griffins at the foot of the page where humour was more +readily admitted. + +It was an immense joy when he closed his carrel-door, after his hour’s +siesta in the dormitory, and sat down to his work. He was still warm +with sleep, and the piercing cold of the unwarmed cloister did not +affect him, but he set his feet on the sloping wooden footstool that +rested on the straw for fear they should get cold, and turned smiling to +his side-table. + +There were all the precious things laid out; the crow’s quills sharpened +to an almost invisible point for the finer lines, the two sets of +pencils, one of silver-point that left a faint grey line, and the other +of haematite for the burnishing of the gold, the badger and minever +brushes, the sponge and pumice-stone for erasures; the horns for black +and red ink lay with the scissors and rulers on the little upper shelf +of his desk. There were the pigments also there, which he had learnt to +grind and prepare, the crushed lapis lazuli first calcined by heat +according to the modern degenerate practice, with the cheap German blue +beside it, and the indigo beyond; the prasinum; the vermilion and red +lead ready mixed, and the rubrica beside it; the yellow orpiment, and, +most important of all, the white pigments, powdered chalk and egg +shells, lying by the biacca. In a separate compartment covered carefully +from chance draughts or dust lay the precious gold leaf, and a little +vessel of the inferior fluid gold used for narrow lines. + + * * * * * + +His first business was to rule the thick red lines down the side of the +text, using a special metal pen for it; and then to begin to sketch in +his initials and decorations. For this latter part of the work he had +decided to follow the lines of Foucquet from a Book of the Hours that he +had taken out of its aumbry; a mass of delicate foliage and leaves, with +medallions set in it united by twisted thorn-branches twining upwards +through the broad border. These medallions on the first sheet he +purposed to fill with miniatures of the famous relics kept at Lewes, the +hanging sleeve of the Blessed Virgin in its crystal case, the +drinking-cup of Cana, the rod of Moses, and the Magdalene’s box of +ointment. In the later pages which would be less elaborate he would +introduce the other relics, and allow his humour free play in designing +for the scrolls at the foot tiny portraits of his brethren; the Prior +should be in a mitre and have the legs and tail of a lion, the +novice-master, with a fox’s brush emerging from his flying cowl, should +be running from a hound who carried a discipline in his near paw. But +there was time yet to think of these things; it would be weeks before +that page could be reached, and meanwhile there was the foliage to be +done, and the rose leaf that lay on his desk to be copied minutely from +a hundred angles. + + * * * * * + +His distractions at mass and office were worse than ever now that the +great work was begun, and week after week in confession there was the +same tale. The mere process was so absorbing, apart from the joy of +creation and design. More than once he woke from a sweating nightmare in +the long dormitory, believing that he had laid on gold-leaf without +first painting the surface with the necessary mordant, or had run his +stilus through his most delicate miniature. But he made extraordinary +progress in the art; and the Prior more than once stepped into his +carrel and looked over his shoulder, watching the slender fingers with +the bone pen between them polishing the gold till it shone like a +mirror, or the steady lead pencil moving over the white page in +faultless curve. Then he would pat him on the shoulder, and go out in +approving silence. + + * * * * * + +Chris was supremely content that he had done right in asking for +profession. It appeared to him that he had found a life that was above +all others worthy of an immortal soul. The whole day’s routine was +directed to one end, the performance of the _Opus Dei_, the uttering of +praises to Him who had made and was sustaining and would receive again +all things to Himself. + +They rose at midnight for the night-office that the sleeping world might +not be wholly dumb to God; went to rest again; rose once more with the +world, and set about a yet sublimer worship. A stream of sacrifice +poured up to the Throne through the mellow summer morning, or the cold +winter darkness and gloom, from altar after altar in the great church. +Christopher remembered pleasantly a morning soon after the beginning of +his novitiate when he had been in the church as a set of priests came in +and began mass simultaneously; the mystical fancy suggested itself as +the hum of voices began that he was in a garden, warm and bright with +grace, and that bees were about him making honey--that fragrant +sweetness of which it had been said long ago that God should eat--and as +the tinkle of the Elevation sounded out here and there, it seemed to him +as a signal that the mysterious confection was done, and that every +altar sprang into perfume from those silver vessels set with jewel and +crystal. + +When the first masses were over, there was a pause in which the _mixtum_ +was taken--bread and wine or beer--standing in the refectory, after a +short prayer that the Giver of all good gifts might bless the food and +drink of His servants, and was closed again by another prayer said +privately for all benefactors. Meanwhile the bell was ringing for the +Lady mass, to remind the monks that the interval was only as it were a +parenthetical concession; and after Terce and the Lady Mass followed the +Chapter, in which faults were confessed and penances inflicted, and the +living instruments of God’s work were examined and scoured for use. The +martyrology was read at this time, as well as some morning prayers, to +keep before the monks’ minds the remembrance of those great vessels of +God’s household called to so high an employment. It was then, too, that +other business of the house was done, and the seal affixed to any +necessary documents. Christopher had an opportunity once of examining +this seal when it had been given him to clean, and he looked with awe on +the figures of his four new patrons, St. Peter, St. Pancras, St. Paul +and Our Lady, set in niches above a cliff with the running water of the +Ouse beneath, and read the petition that ran round the circle-- + +“_Dulcis agonista tibi convertit domus ista Pancrati memorum precibus +memor esto tuorum._” + +When the chapter was over, and the deaths of any brethren of the order +had been announced, and their souls prayed for, there was a pause for +recreation in the cloister and the finishing of further business before +they assembled again in time to go into church for the high mass, at +which the work and prayers of the day were gathered up and consecrated +in a supreme offering. Even the dinner that followed was a religious +ceremony; it began by a salutation of the Christ in glory that was on +the wall over the Prior’s table, and then a long grace was sung before +they took their seats. The reader in the stone-pulpit on the south wall +of the refectory began his business on the sounding of a bell; and at a +second stroke there was a hum and clash of dishes from the kitchen end, +and the aproned servers entered in line bearing the dishes. Immediately +the meal was begun the drink destined for the poor at the gate was set +aside, and a little later a representative of them was brought into the +refectory to receive his portion; at the close again what was left over +was collected for charity; while the community after singing part of the +grace after meat went to finish it in the church. + +Chris learned to love the quiet religious graciousness of the refectory. +The taking of food here was a consecrated action; it seemed a +sacramental thing. He loved the restraint and preciseness of it, ensured +by the solemn crucifix over the door with its pathetic inscription +“SITIO,” the polished oak tables, solid and narrow, the shining pewter +dishes, the folded napkins, the cleanly-served plentiful food, to each +man his portion, the indescribable dignity of the prior’s little table, +the bowing of the servers before it, the mellow grace ringing out in its +monotone that broke into minor thirds and octaves of melody, like a +grave line of woodwork on the panelling bursting into a stiff leaf or +two at its ends. There was a strange and wonderful romance it about on +early autumn evenings as the light died out behind the stained windows +and the reader’s face glowed homely and strong between his two candles +on the pulpit. And surely these tales of saints, the extract from the +Rule, these portions of Scripture sung with long pauses and on a +monotone for fear that the reader’s personality should obscure the +message of what he read--surely this was a better accompaniment to the +taking of food, in itself so gross a thing, than the feverish chatter of +a secular hall and the bustling and officiousness of paid servants. + +After a general washing of hands the monks dispersed to their work, and +the novices to bowls or other games; the Prior first distributing the +garden instruments, and then beginning the labour with a commendation of +it to God; and after finishing the manual work and a short time of +study, they re-assembled in the cloister to go to Vespers. This, like +the high mass, was performed with the ceremonial proper to the day, and +was followed by supper, at which the same kind of ceremonies were +observed as at dinner. When this was over, after a further short +interval the evening reading or Collation took place in the +chapter-house, after which the monks were at liberty to go and warm +themselves at the one great fire kept up for the purpose in the +calefactory; and then compline was sung, followed by Our Lady’s Anthem. + +This for Chris was one of the climaxes of the day’s emotions. He was +always tired out by now with the day’s work, and longing for bed, and +this approach to the great Mother of Monks soothed and quieted him. It +was sung in almost complete darkness, except for a light or two in the +long nave where a dark figure or two would be kneeling, and the pleasant +familiar melody, accompanied softly by the organ overhead after the bare +singing of Compline, seemed like a kind of good-night kiss. The +infinite pathos of the words never failed to touch him, the cry of the +banished children of Eve, weeping and mourning in this vale of tears to +Mary whose obedience had restored what Eve’s self-will had ruined, and +the last threefold sob of endearment to the “kindly, loving, sweet, +Virgin Mary.” After the high agonisings and aspirations of the day’s +prayer, the awfulness of the holy Sacrifice, the tramping monotony of +the Psalter, the sting of the discipline, the aches and sweats of the +manual labour, the intent strain of the illuminating, this song to Mary +was a running into Mother’s arms and finding compensation there for all +toils and burdens. + +Finally in complete silence the monks passed along the dark cloister, +sprinkled with holy water as they left the church, up to the dormitory +which ran over the whole length of the chapter house, the bridges and +other offices, to sleep till midnight. + + * * * * * + +The effect of this life, unbroken by external distractions, was to make +Chris’s soul alert and perceptive to the inner world, and careless or +even contemptuous of the ordinary world of men. This spiritual realm +began for the first time to disclose its details to him, and to show +itself to some extent a replica of nature. It too had its varying +climate, its long summer of warmth and light, its winter of dark +discontent, its strange and bewildering sunrises of Christ upon the +soul, when He rose and went about His garden with perfume and music, or +stayed and greeted His creature with the message of His eyes. Chris +began to learn that these spiritual changes were in a sense independent +of him, that they were not in his soul, but rather that his soul was in +them. He could be happy and content when the winds of God were cold and +His light darkened, or sad and comfortless when the flowers of grace +were apparent and the river of life bright and shining. + +And meanwhile the ordinary world went on, but far away and dimly heard +and seen; as when one looks down from a castle-garden on to humming +streets five hundred feet below; and the old life at Overfield, and +Ralph’s doings in London seemed unreal and fantastic activities, +purposeless and empty. + +Little by little, however, as the point of view shifted, Chris began to +find that the external world could not be banished, and that the +annoyances from the clash of characters discordant with his own were as +positive as those which had distressed him before. Dom Anselm Bowden’s +way of walking and the patch of grease at the shoulder of his cowl, +never removed, and visible as he went before him into the church was as +distractingly irritating as Ralph’s contempt; the buzz in the voice of a +cantor who seemed always to sing on great days was as distressing as his +own dog’s perversity at Overfield, or the snapping of a bow-string. + +When _accidie_ fell upon Chris it seemed as if this particular house was +entirely ruined by such incidents; the Prior was finikin, the +junior-master tyrannical, the paints for illumination inferior in +quality, the straw of his bed peculiarly sharp, the chapter-house +unnecessarily draughty. And until he learnt from his confessor that this +spiritual ailment was a perfectly familiar one, and that its symptoms +and effects had been diagnosed centuries before, and had taken him at +his word and practised the remedies he enjoined, Chris suffered +considerably from discontent and despair alternately. At times others +were intolerable, at times he was intolerable to himself, reproaching +himself for having attempted so high a life, criticising his fellows +for so lowering it to a poor standard. + + * * * * * + +The first time that he was accused in chapter of a fault against the +Rule was a very great and shocking humiliation. + +He had accused himself as usual on his knees of his own remissions, of +making an unnecessarily loud noise in drinking, of intoning a wrong +antiphon as cantor, of spilling crumbs in the refectory; and then leaned +back on his heels well content with the insignificance of his list, to +listen with a discreet complacency to old Dom Adrian, who had overslept +himself once, spilled his beer twice, criticised his superior, and +talked aloud to himself four times during the Greater Silence, and who +now mumbled out his crimes hastily and unconcernedly. + +When the self-accusations were done, the others began, and to his horror +Chris heard his own name spoken. + +“I accuse Dom Christopher Torridon of not keeping the guard of the eyes +at Terce this morning.” + +It was perfectly true; Chris had been so much absorbed in noticing an +effect of shade thrown by a corbel, and in plans for incorporating it +into his illumination that he had let a verse pass as far as the star +that marked the pause. He felt his heart leap with resentment. Then a +flash of retort came to him, and he waited his turn. + +“I accuse Dom Bernard Parr of not keeping the guard of the eyes at Terce +this morning. He was observing me.” + +Just the faintest ripple passed round the line; and then the Prior spoke +with a tinge of sharpness, inflicting the penances, and giving Chris a +heavy sentence of twenty strokes with the discipline. + +When Chris’s turn came he threw back his habit petulantly, and +administered his own punishment as the custom was, with angry fervour. + +As he was going out the Prior made him a sign, and took him through into +his own cell. + +“Counter-accusations are contrary to the Rule,” he said. “It must not +happen again,” and dismissed him sternly. + +And then Chris for a couple of days had a fierce struggle against +uncharitableness, asking himself whether he had not eyed Dom Bernard +with resentment, and then eyeing him again. It seemed too as if a fiend +suggested bitter sentences of reproach, that he rehearsed to himself, +and then repented. But on the third morning there came one of those +strange breezes of grace that he was beginning to experience more and +more frequently, and his sore soul grew warm and peaceful again. + + * * * * * + +It was in those kinds of temptation now that he found his warfare to +lie; internal assaults so fierce that it was terribly difficult to know +whether he had yielded or not, sudden images of pride and anger and lust +that presented themselves so vividly and attractively that it seemed he +must have willed them; it was not often that he was tempted to sin in +word or deed--such, when they came, rushed on him suddenly; but in the +realm of thought and imagination and motive he would often find himself, +as it were, entering a swarm of such things, that hovered round him, +impeding his prayer, blinding his insight, and seeking to sting the very +heart of his spiritual life. Then once more he would fight himself free +by despising and rejecting them, or would emerge without conscious will +of his own into clearness and serenity. + +But as he looked back he regretted nothing. It was true that the +warfare was more subtle and internal, but it was more honourable too; +for to conquer a motive or tame an imagination was at once more arduous +and more far-reaching in its effects than a victory in merely outward +matters, and he seldom failed to thank God half-a-dozen times a day for +having given him the vocation of a monk. + +There was one danger, however, that he did not realise, and his +confessor failed to point it out to him; and that was the danger of the +wrong kind of detachment. As has been already seen the theory of the +Religious Life was that men sought it not merely for the salvation of +their own souls, but for that of the world. A monastery was a place +where in a special sense the spiritual commerce of the world was carried +on: as a workman’s shed is the place deputed and used by the world for +the manufacture of certain articles. It was the manufactory of grace +where skilled persons were at work, busy at a task of prayer and +sacrament which was to be at other men’s service. If the father of a +family had a piece of spiritual work to be done, he went to the +monastery and arranged for it, and paid a fee for the sustenance of +those he employed, as he might go to a merchant’s to order a cargo and +settle for its delivery. + +Since this was so then, it was necessary that the spiritual workmen +should be in a certain touch with those for whom they worked. It was +true that they must be out of the world, undominated by its principles +and out of love with its spirit; but in another sense they must live in +its heart. To use another analogy they were as windmills, lifted up from +the earth into the high airs of grace, but their base must be on the +ground or their labour would be ill-spent. They must be mystically one +with the world that they had resigned. + +Chris forgot this; and laboured, and to a large extent succeeded, in +detaching himself wholly; and symptoms of this mistake showed themselves +in such things as tending to despise secular life, feeling impatient +with the poor to whom he had to minister, in sneering in his heart at +least at anxious fussy men who came to arrange for masses, at +troublesome women who haunted the sacristy door in a passion of +elaborateness, and at comfortable families who stamped into high mass +and filled a seat and a half, but who had yet their spiritual burdens +and their claims to honour. + +But he was to be brought rudely down to facts again. He was beginning to +forget that England was about him and stirring in her agony; and he was +reminded of it with some force in the winter after his profession. + + * * * * * + +He was going out to the gate-house one day on an errand from the +junior-master when he became aware of an unusual stir in the court. +There were a couple of palfreys there, and half-a-dozen mules behind, +whilst three or four strange monks with a servant or two stood at their +bridles. + +Chris stopped to consider, for he had no business with guests; and as he +hesitated the door of the guest-house opened, and two prelates came out +with Dom Anthony behind them--tall, stately men in monks’ habits with +furred cloaks and crosses. Chris slipped back at once into the cloister +from which he had just come out, and watched them go past to the Prior’s +lodging. + +They appeared at Vespers that afternoon again, sitting in the first +returned stalls near the Prior, and Chris recognised one of them as the +great Abbot of Colchester. He looked at him now and again during Vespers +with a reverential awe, for the Abbot was a great man, a spiritual peer +of immense influence and reputation, and watched that fatherly face, +his dignified bows and stately movements, and the great sapphire that +shone on his hand as he turned the leaves of his illuminated book. + +The two prelates were at supper, sitting on either side of the Prior on +the dais; and afterwards the monks were called earlier than usual from +recreation into the chapter-house. + +The Prior made them a little speech saying that the Abbot had something +to say to them, and then sat down; his troubled eyes ran over the faces +of his subjects, and his fingers twitched and fidgetted on his knees. + +The Abbot did not make them a long discourse; but told them briefly that +there was trouble coming; he spoke in veiled terms of the Act of +Supremacy, and the serious prayer that was needed; he said that a time +of testing was close at hand, and that every man must scrutinise his own +conscience and examine his motives; and that the unlearned had better +follow the advice and example of their superiors. + +It was all very vague and unsatisfactory; but Chris became aware of +three things. First, that the world was very much alive and could not be +dismissed by a pious aspiration or two; second, that the world was about +to make some demand that would have to be seriously dealt with, and +third, that there was nothing really to fear so long as their souls were +clean and courageous. The Abbot was a melting speaker, full at once of a +fatherly tenderness and vehemence, and as Chris looked at him he felt +that indeed there was nothing to fear so long as monks had such +representatives and protectors as these, and that the world had better +look to itself for fear it should dash itself to ruin against such rocks +of faith and holiness. + +But as the spring drew on, an air of suspense and anxiety made itself +evident in the house. News came down that More and Fisher were still in +prison, that the oath was being administered right and left, that the +King had thrown aside all restraints, and that the civil breach with +Rome seemed in no prospect of healing. As for the spiritual breach the +monks did not seriously consider it yet; they regarded themselves as +still in union with the Holy See whatever their rulers might say or do, +and only prayed for the time when things might be as before and there +should be no longer any doubt or hesitation in the minds of weak +brethren. + +But the Prior’s face grew more white and troubled, and his temper +uncertain. + +Now and again he would make them speeches assuring them fiercely that +all was well, and that all they had to do was to be quiet and obedient; +and now he would give way to a kind of angry despair, tell them that all +was lost, that every man would have to save himself; and then for days +after such an exhibition he would be silent and morose, rapping his +fingers softly as he sat at his little raised table in the refectory, +walking with downcast eyes up and down the cloister muttering and +staring. + +Towards the end of April he sent abruptly for Chris, told him that he +had news from London that made his presence there necessary, and ordered +him to be ready to ride with him in a week or two. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE ARENA + + +It was in the evening of a warm May day that the Prior and Chris arrived +at the hostelry in Southwark, which belonged to Lewes Priory. + +It was on the south side of Kater Lane, opposite St. Olave’s church, a +great house built of stone with arched gates, with a large porch opening +straight into the hall, which was high and vaulted with a frieze of +grotesque animals and foliage running round it. There were a few +servants there, and one or two friends of the Prior waiting at the porch +as they arrived; and one of them, a monk himself from the cell at +Farley, stepped up to the Prior’s stirrup and whispered to him. + +Chris heard an exclamation and a sharp indrawing of breath, but was too +well trained to ask; so he too dismounted and followed the others into +the hall, leaving his beast in the hands of a servant. + +The Prior was already standing by the monk at the upper end, questioning +him closely, and glancing nervously this way and that. + +“To-day?” he asked sharply, and looked at the other horrified. + +The monk nodded, pale-faced and anxious, his lower lip sucked in. + +The Prior turned to Chris. + +“They have suffered to-day,” he said. + +News had reached Lewes nearly a week before that the Carthusians had +been condemned, for refusing to acknowledge the King as head of the +English Church, but it had been scarcely possible to believe that the +sentence would be carried out, and Chris felt the blood beat in his +temples and his lips turn suddenly dry as he heard the news. + +“I was there, my Lord Prior,” said the monk. + +He was a middle-aged man, genial and plump, but his face was white and +anxious now, and his mouth worked. “They were hanged in their habits,” +he went on. “Prior Houghton was the first despatched;” and he added a +terrible detail or two. + +“Will you see the place, my Lord Prior?” he said, “You can ride there. +Your palfrey is still at the door.” + +Prior Robert Crowham looked at him a moment with pursed lips; and then +shook his head violently. + +“No, no,” he said. “I--I must see to the house.” The monk looked at +Chris. + +“May I go, my Lord Prior?” he asked. + +The Prior stared at him a moment, in a desperate effort to fix his +attention; then nodded sharply and wheeled round to the door that led to +the upper rooms. + +“Mother of God!” he said. “Mother of God!” and went out. + +Chris went through with the strange priest, down the hall and out into +the porch again. The others were standing there, fearful and whispering, +and opened out to let the two monks pass through. + +Chris had been tired and hot when he arrived, but he was conscious now +of no sensation but of an overmastering desire to see the place; he +passed straight by his horse that still stood with a servant at his +head, and turned up instinctively toward the river. + +The monk called after him. + +“There, there,” he cried, “not so fast--we have plenty of time.” + +They took a wherry at the stairs and pushed out with the stream. The +waterman was a merry-looking man who spoke no word but whistled to +himself cheerfully as he laid himself to the oars, and the boat began to +move slantingly across the flowing tide. He looked at the monks now and +again; but Chris was seated, staring out with eyes that saw nothing down +the broad stream away to where the cathedral rose gigantic and graceful +on the other side. It was the first time he had been in London since a +couple of years before his profession, but the splendour and strength of +the city was nothing to him now. It only had one significance to his +mind, and that that it had been this day the scene of a martyrdom. His +mind that had so long lived in the inner world, moving among +supernatural things, was struggling desperately to adjust itself. + +Once or twice his lips moved, and his hands clenched themselves under +his scapular; but he saw and heard nothing; and did not even turn his +head when a barge swept past them, and a richly dressed man leaned from +the stern and shouted something mockingly. The other monk looked +nervously and deprecatingly up, for he heard the taunting threat across +the water that the Carthusians were a good riddance, and that there +would be more to follow. + +They landed at the Blackfriars stairs, paid the man, who was still +whistling as he took the money, and passed up by the little stream that +flowed into the river, striking off to the left presently, and leaving +the city behind them. They were soon out again on the long straight road +that led to Tyburn, for Chris walked desperately fast, paying little +heed to his companion except at the corners when he had to wait to know +the way; and presently Tyburn-gate began to raise its head high against +the sky. + +Once the strange monk, whose name Chris had not even troubled to ask, +plucked him by his hanging sleeve. + +“The hurdles came along here,” he said; and Chris looked at him vacantly +as if he did not understand. + +Then they were under Tyburn-gate, and the clump of elms stood before +them. + + * * * * * + +It was a wide open space, dusty now and trampled. + +What grass there had been in patches by the two little streams that +flowed together here, was crushed and flat under foot. The elms cast +long shadows from the west, and birds were chirping in the branches; +there was a group or two of people here and there looking curiously +about them. A man’s voice came across the open space, explaining; and +his arm rose and wheeled and pointed and paused--three or four children +hung together, frightened and interested. + +But Chris saw little of all this. He had no eyes for the passing +details; they were fixed on the low mound that rose fifty yards away, +and the three tall posts, placed in a triangle and united by +cross-beams, that stood on it, gaunt against the sky. + +As he came nearer to it, walking as one in a dream across the dusty +ground and trampled grass, and paying no heed to the priest behind him +who whispered with an angry nervousness, he was aware of the ends of +three or four ropes that hung motionless from the beams in the still +evening air; and with his eyes fixed on these in exaltation and terror +he stumbled up the sloping ground and came beneath them. + +There was a great peace round him as he stood there, stroking one of +the uprights with a kind of mechanical tenderness; the men were silent +as they saw the two monks there, and watched to see what they would do. + +The towers of Tyburn-gate rose a hundred yards away, empty now, but +crowded this morning; and behind them the long road with the fields and +great mansions on this side and that, leading down to the city in front +and Westminster on the right, those two dens of the tiger that had +snarled so fiercely a few hours before, as she licked her lips red with +martyrs’ blood. It was indescribably peaceful now; there was no sound +but the birds overhead, and the soft breeze in the young leaves, and the +trickle of the streams defiled to-day, but running clean and guiltless +now; and the level sunlight lay across the wide flat ground and threw +the shadow of the mound and gallows nearly to the foot of the gate. + +But to Chris the place was alive with phantoms; the empty space had +vanished, and a sea of faces seemed turned up to him; he fancied that +there were figures about him, watching him too, brushing his sleeve, +faces looking into his eyes, waiting for some action or word from him. +For a moment his sense of identity was lost; the violence of the +associations, and perhaps even the power of the emotions that had been +wrought there that day, crushed out his personality; it was surely he +who was here to suffer; all else was a dream and an illusion. From his +very effort of living in eternity, a habit had been formed that now +asserted itself; the laws of time and space and circumstance for the +moment ceased to exist; and he found himself for an eternal instant +facing his own agony and death. + + * * * * * + +Then with a rush facts re-asserted themselves, and he started and +looked round as the monk touched him on the arm. + +“You have seen it,” he said in a sharp undertone, “it is enough. We +shall be attacked.” Chris paid him no heed beyond a look, and turned +once more. + +It was here that they had suffered, these gallant knights of God; they +had stood below these beams, their feet on the cart that was their +chariot of glory, their necks in the rope that would be their heavenly +badge; they had looked out where he was looking as they made their +little speeches, over the faces to Tyburn-gate, with the same sun that +was now behind him, shining into their eyes. + +He still stroked the rough beam; and as the details came home, and he +remembered that it was this that had borne their weight, he leaned and +kissed it; and a flood of tears blinded him. + +Again the priest pulled his sleeve sharply. + +“For God’s sake, brother!” he said. + +Chris turned to him. + +“The cauldron,” he said; “where was that?” + +The priest made an impatient movement, but pointed to one side, away +from where the men were standing still watching them; and Chris saw +below, by the side of one of the streams a great blackened patch of +ground, and a heap of ashes. + +The two went down there, for the other monk was thankful to get to any +less conspicuous place; and Chris presently found himself standing on +the edge of the black patch, with the trampled mud and grass beyond it +beside the stream. The grey wood ashes had drifted by now far across the +ground, but the heavy logs still lay there, charred and smoked, that had +blazed beneath the cauldron where the limbs of the monks had been +seethed; and he stared down at them, numbed and fascinated by the +horror of the thought. His mind, now in a violent reaction, seemed +unable to cope with its own knowledge, crushed beneath its weight; and +his friend heard him repeating with a low monotonous insistence-- + +“Here it was,” he said, “here; here was the cauldron; it was here.” + +Then he turned and looked into his friend’s eyes. + +“It was here,” he said; “are you sure it was here?” + +The other made an impatient sound. + +“Where else?” he said sharply. “Come, brother, you have seen enough.” + + * * * * * + +He told him more details as they walked home; as to what each had said, +and how each had borne himself. Father Reynolds, the Syon monk, had +looked gaily about him, it seemed, as he walked up from the hurdle; the +secular priest had turned pale and shut his eyes more than once; the +three Carthusian priors had been unmoved throughout, showing neither +carelessness nor fear; Prior Houghton’s arm had been taken off to the +London Charterhouse as a terror to the others; their heads, he had +heard, were on London Bridge. + +Chris walked slowly as he listened, holding tight under his scapular the +scrap of rough white cloth he had picked up near the cauldron, drinking +in every detail, and painting it into the mental picture that was +forming in his mind; but there was much more in the picture than the +other guessed. + +The priest was a plain man, with a talent for the practical, and knew +nothing of the vision that the young monk beside him was seeing--of the +air about the gallows crowded with the angels of the Agony and Passion, +waiting to bear off the straggling souls in their tender experienced +hands; of the celestial faces looking down, the scarred and glorious +arms stretched out in welcome; of Mary with her mother’s eyes, and her +virgins about her--all ring above ring in deepening splendour up to the +white blinding light above, where the Everlasting Trinity lay poised in +love and glory to receive and crown the stalwart soldiers of God. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A CLOSING-IN + + +Ralph kept his resolution to pretend to try and save Sir Thomas More, +and salved his own conscience by protesting to Beatrice that his efforts +were bound to fail, and that he had no influence such as she imagined. +He did certainly more than once remark to Cromwell that Sir Thomas was a +pleasant and learned man, and had treated him kindly, and once had gone +so far as to say that he did not see that any good would be served by +his death; but he had been sharply rebuked, and told to mind his own +business; then, softening, Cromwell had explained that there was no +question of death for the present; but that More’s persistent refusal to +yield to the pressure of events was a standing peril to the King’s +policy. + +This policy had now shaped itself more clearly. In the autumn of ’34 the +bill for the King’s supremacy over the Church of England began to take +form; and Ralph had several sights of the documents as all business of +this kind now flowed through Cromwell’s hands, and he was filled with +admiration and at the same time with perplexity at the adroitness of the +wording. It was very short, and affected to assume rather than to enact +its object. + +“Albeit the King’s Majesty justly and rightfully is and ought to be,” it +began, “the supreme head of the Church of England, and so is recognised +by the clergy of this realm in their Convocations, yet, nevertheless, +for corroboration and confirmation thereof ... and to repress and extirp +all errors, heresies and other enormities ... be it enacted by authority +of this present Parliament that the King our sovereign lord ... shall be +taken, accepted, and reputed the only supreme head in earth of the +Church of England, called _Anglicans Ecclesia_.” The bill then proceeded +to confer on him a plenitude of authority over both temporal and +spiritual causes. + +There was here considerable skill in the manner of its drawing up, which +it owed chiefly to Cromwell; for it professed only to re-state a matter +that had slipped out of notice, and appealed to the authority of +Convocation which had, truly, under Warham allowed a resolution to the +same effect, though qualified by the clause, “as far as God’s law +permits,” to pass in silence. + +Ralph was puzzled by it: he was led to believe that it could contain no +very radical change from the old belief, since the clergy had in a sense +already submitted to it; and, on the other hand, the word “the only +supreme head in earth” seemed not only to assert the Crown’s civil +authority over the temporalities of the Church, but to exclude +definitely all jurisdiction on the part of the Pope. + +“It is the assertion of a principle,” Cromwell said to him when he asked +one day for an explanation; “a principle that has always been held in +England; it is not intended to be precise or detailed: that will follow +later.” + +Ralph was no theologian, and did not greatly care what the bill did or +did not involve. He was, too, in that temper of inchoate agnosticism +that was sweeping England at the time, and any scruples that he had in +his more superstitious moments were lulled by the knowledge that the +clergy had acquiesced. What appeared more important to him than any +hair-splittings on the exact provinces of the various authorities in +question, was the necessity of some step towards the crippling of the +spiritual empire whose hands were so heavy, and whose demands so +imperious. He felt, as an Englishman, resentful of the leading strings +in which, so it seemed to him, Rome wished to fetter his country. + +The bill passed through parliament on November the eighteenth. + + * * * * * + +Ralph lost no opportunity of impressing upon Beatrice how much he had +risked for the sake of her friend in the Tower, and drew very moving +sketches of his own peril. + +The two were sitting together in the hall at Chelsea one winters evening +soon after Christmas. The high panelling was relieved by lines of +greenery, with red berries here and there; a bunch of mistletoe leaned +forward over the sloping mantelpiece, and there was an acrid smell of +holly and laurel in the air. It was a little piteous, Ralph thought, +under the circumstances. + +Another stage had been passed in More’s journey towards death, in the +previous month, when he had been attainted of misprision of treason by +an act designed to make good the illegality of his former conviction, +and the end was beginning to loom clear. + +“I said it would be no use, Mistress Beatrice, and it is none--Master +Cromwell will not hear a word.” + +Beatrice looked up at Ralph, and down again, as her manner was. Her +hands were lying on her lap perfectly still as she sat upright in her +tall chair. + +“You have done what you could, I know,” she said, softly. + +“Master Cromwell did not take it very well,” went on Ralph with an +appearance of resolute composure, “but that was to be expected.” + +Again she looked up, and Ralph once more was seized with the desire to +precipitate matters and tell her what was in his heart, but he repressed +it, knowing it was useless to speak yet. + +It was a very stately and slow wooing, like the movement of a minuet; +each postured to each, not from any insincerity, except perhaps a little +now and then on Ralph’s side, but because for both it was a natural mode +of self-expression. It was an age of dignity abruptly broken here and +there by violence. There were slow and gorgeous pageants followed by +brutal and bestial scenes, like the life of a peacock who paces +composedly in the sun and then scuttles and screams in the evening. But +with these two at present there was no occasion for abruptness, and +Ralph, at any rate, contemplated with complacency his own graciousness +and grandeur, and the skilfully posed tableaux in which he took such a +sedate part. + +As the spring drew on and the crocuses began to star the grass along the +river and the sun to wheel wider and wider, the chill and the darkness +began to fall more heavily on the household at Chelsea. They were +growing very poor by now; most of Sir Thomas’s possessions elsewhere had +been confiscated by the King, though by his clemency Chelsea was still +left to Mrs. Alice for the present; and one by one the precious things +began to disappear from the house as they were sold to obtain +necessaries. All the private fortune of Mrs. More had gone by the end of +the winter, and her son still owed great sums to the Government on +behalf of his father. + +At the beginning of May she told Ralph that she was making another +appeal to Cromwell for help, and begged him to forward her petition. + +“My silks are all gone,” she said, “and the little gold chain and cross +that you may remember, Mr. Torridon, went last month, too--I cannot tell +what we shall do. Mr. More is so obstinate”--and her eyes filled with +tears--“and we have to pay fifteen shillings every week for him and John +a’ Wood.” + +She looked so helpless and feeble as she sat in the window seat, +stripped now of its tapestry cushions, with the roofs of the New +Building rising among its trees at the back, where her husband had +walked a year ago with such delight, that Ralph felt a touch of +compunction, and promised to do his best. + +He said a word to Cromwell that evening as he supped with him at +Hackney, and his master looked at him curiously, sitting forward in the +carved chair he had had from Wolsey, in his satin gown, twisting the +stem of his German glass in his ringed fingers. + +“And what do you wish me to do, sir?” he asked Ralph with a kind of +pungent irony. + +Ralph explained that he scarcely knew himself; perhaps a word to his +Grace-- + +“I will tell you what it is, Mr. Torridon,” broke in his master, “you +have made another mistake. I did not intend you to be their friend, but +to seem so.” + +“I can scarcely seem so,” said Ralph quietly, but with a certain +indignation at his heart, “unless I do them little favours sometimes.” + +“You need not seem so any longer,” said Cromwell drily, “the time is +past.” + +And he set his glass down and sat back. + +Yet Ralph’s respect and admiration for his master became no less. He had +the attractiveness of extreme and unscrupulous capability. It gave Ralph +the same joy to watch him as he found in looking on at an expert fencer; +he was so adroit and strong and ready; mighty and patient in defence, +watchful for opportunities of attack and merciless when they came. His +admirers scarcely gave a thought to the piteousness of the adversary; +they were absorbed in the scheme and proud to be included in it; and men +of heart and sensibility were as hard as their master when they carried +out his plans. + + * * * * * + +The fate of the Carthusians would have touched Ralph if he had been a +mere onlooker, as it touched so many others, but he had to play his part +in the tragedy, and was astonished at the quick perceptions of Cromwell +and his determined brutality towards these peaceful contemplatives whom +he recognised as a danger-centre against the King’s policy. + +He was present first in Cromwell’s house when the three Carthusian +priors of Beauvale, Axholme and London called upon him of their own +accord to put their questions on the meaning of the King’s supremacy: +but their first question, as to how was it possible for a layman to hold +the keys of the kingdom of heaven was enough, and without any further +evidence they were sent to the Tower. + +Then, again, he was present in the Court of the Rolls a few days later +when Dom Laurence, of Beauvale, and Dom Webster, of Axholme, were +examined once more. There were seven or eight others present, laymen and +ecclesiastics, and the priors were once more sent back to the Tower. + +And so examination after examination went on, and no answer could be got +out of the monks, but that they could never reconcile it with their +conscience to accept the King to be what the Act of Supremacy declared +that he was. + +Ralph’s curiosity took him down to the Charterhouse one day shortly +before the execution of the priors; he had with him an order from +Cromwell that carried him everywhere he wished to go; but he did not +penetrate too deeply. He was astonished at the impression that the place +made on him. + +As he passed up the Great Cloister there was no sound but from a bird or +two singing in the afternoon sunlight of the garth; each cell-door, with +its hatch for the passage of food, was closed and silent; and Ralph felt +a curious quickening of his heart as he thought of the human life passed +in the little houses, each with its tiny garden, its workshop, its two +rooms, and its paved ambulatory, in which each solitary lived. How +strangely apart this place was from the buzz of business from which he +had come! And yet he knew very well that the whole was as good as +condemned already. + +He wondered to himself how they had taken the news of the tragedy that +was beginning--those white, demure men with shaved heads and faces, and +downcast eyes. He reflected what the effect of that news must be; as it +penetrated each day, like a stone dropped softly into a pool, leaving no +ripple. There, behind each brown door, he fancied to himself, a strange +alchemy was proceeding, in which each new terror and threat from outside +was received into the crucible of a beating heart and transmuted by +prayer and welcome into some wonderful jewel of glory--at least so these +poor men believed; and Ralph indignantly told himself it was nonsense; +they were idlers and dreamers. He reminded himself of a sneer he had +heard against the barrels of Spanish wine that were taken in week by +week at the monastery door; if these men ate no flesh too, at least they +had excellent omelettes. + +But as he passed at last through the lay-brothers’ choir and stood +looking through the gates of the Fathers’ choir up to the rich altar +with its hangings and its posts on either side crowned with gilded +angels bearing candles, to the splendid window overhead, against which, +as in a glory, hung the motionless silk-draped pyx, the awe fell on him +again. + +This was the place where they met, these strange, silent men; every +panel and stone was saturated with the prayers of experts, offered three +times a day--in the night-office of two or three hours when the world +was asleep; at the chapter-mass; and at Vespers in the afternoon. + +His heart again stirred a little, superstitiously he angrily told +himself, at the memory of the stories that were whispered about in town. + +Two years ago, men said, a comet had been seen shining over the house. +As the monks went back from matins, each with his lantern in his hand, +along the dark cloister, a ray had shot out from the comet, had glowed +upon the church and bell-tower, and died again into darkness. Again, a +little later, two monks, one in his cell-garden and the other in the +cemetery, had seen a blood-red globe, high and menacing, hanging in the +air over the house. + +Lastly, at Pentecost, at the mass of the Holy Ghost, offered at the end +of a triduum with the intention of winning grace to meet any sacrifice +that might be demanded, not one nor two, but the whole community, +including the lay-brothers outside the Fathers’ Choir, had perceived a +soft whisper of music of inexpressible sweetness that came and went +overhead at the Elevation. The celebrant bowed forward in silence over +the altar, unable to continue the mass, the monks remained petrified +with joy and awe in their stalls. + +Ralph stared once more at the altar as he remembered this tale; at the +row of stalls on either side, the dark roof overhead, the glowing glass +on either side and in front--and asked himself whether it was true, +whether God had spoken, whether a chink of the heavenly gate had been +opened here to let the music escape. + +It was not true, he told himself; it was the dream of a man mad with +sleeplessness, foolish with fasting and discipline and vigils: one had +dreamed it and babbled of it to the rest and none had liked to be less +spiritual or perceptive of divine manifestations. + +A brown figure was by the altar now to light the candles for Vespers; a +taper was in his hand, and the spot of light at the end moved like a +star against the gilding and carving. Ralph turned and went out. + +Then on the fourth of May he was present at the execution of the three +priors and the two other priests at Tyburn. There was an immense crowd +there, nearly the whole Court being present; and it was reported here +and there afterwards that the King himself was there in a group of five +horsemen, who came in the accoutrements of Borderers, vizored and armed, +and took up their position close to the scaffold. There fell a terrible +silence as the monks were dragged up on the hurdles, in their habits, +all three together behind one horse. They were cut down almost at once, +and the butchery was performed on them while they were still alive. + +Ralph went home in a glow of resolution against them. A tragedy such as +that which he had seen was of necessity a violent motive one way or the +other, and it found him determined that the sufferers were in the wrong, +and left him confirmed in his determination. Their very passivity +enraged him. + +Meanwhile, he had of course heard nothing of his brother’s presence in +London, and it was with something of a shock that on the next afternoon +he heard the news from Mr. Morris that Mr. Christopher was below and +waiting for him in the parlour. + +As he went down he wondered what Chris was doing in London, and what he +himself could say to him. He was expecting Beatrice, too, to call upon +him presently with her maid to give him a message and a bundle of +letters which he had promised to convey to Sir Thomas More. But he was +determined to be kind to his brother. + +Chris was standing in his black monk’s habit on the other side of the +walnut table, beside the fire-place, and made no movement as Ralph came +forward smiling and composed. His face was thinner than his brother +remembered it, clean-shaven now, with hollows in the cheeks, and his +eyes were strangely light. + +“Why, Chris!” said Ralph, and stopped, astonished at the other’s +motionlessness. + +Then Chris came round the table with a couple of swift steps, his hands +raised a little from the wide, drooping sleeves. + +“Ah! brother,” he said, “I have come to bring you away: this is a wicked +place.” + +Ralph was so amazed that he fell back a step. + +“Are you mad?” he said coldly enough, but he felt a twitch of +superstitious fear at his heart. + +Chris seized the rich silk sleeve in both his hands, and Ralph felt them +trembling and nervous. + +“You must come away,” he said, “for Jesu’s sake, brother! You must not +lose your soul.” + +Ralph felt the old contempt surge up and drown his fear. The familiarity +of his brother’s presence weighed down the religious suggestion of his +habit and office. This is what he had feared and almost expected;--that +the cloister would make a fanatic of this fantastic brother of his. + +He glanced round at the door that he had left open, but the house was +silent. Then he turned again. + +“Sit down, Chris,” he said, with a strong effort at self-command, and he +pulled his sleeve away, went back and shut the door, and then came +forward past where his brother was standing, to the chair that stood +with its back to the window. + +“You must not be fond and wild,” he said decidedly. “Sit down, Chris.” + +The monk came past him to the other side of the hearth, and faced him +again, but did not sit down. He remained standing by the fire-place, +looking down at Ralph, who was in his chair with crossed legs. + +“What is this folly?” said Ralph again. + +Chris stared down at him a moment in silence. + +“Why, why--” he began, and ceased. + +Ralph felt himself the master of the situation, and determined to be +paternal. + +“My dear lad,” he said, “you have dreamed yourself mad at Lewes. When +did you come to London?” + +“Yesterday,” said Chris, still with that strange stare. + +“Why, then--” began Ralph. + +“Yes--you think I was too late, but I saw it,” said Chris; “I was there +in the evening and saw it all again.” + +All his nervous tension seemed relaxed by the warm common-sense +atmosphere of this trim little room, and his brother’s composure. His +lips were beginning to tremble, and he half turned and gripped the +mantel-shelf with his right hand. Ralph noticed with a kind of +contemptuous pity how the heavy girded folds of the frock seemed to +contain nothing, and that the wrist from which the sleeve had fallen +back was slender as a reed. Ralph felt himself so infinitely his +brother’s superior that he could afford to be generous and kindly. + +“Dear Chris,” he said, smiling, “you look starved and miserable. Shall I +tell Morris to bring you something? I thought you monks fared better +than that.” + +In a moment Chris was on his knees on the rushes; his hands gripped his +brother’s arms, and his wild eyes were staring up with a fanatical fire +of entreaty in them. His words broke out like a torrent. + +“Ralph,” he said, “dear brother! for Jesu’s sake, come away! I have +heard everything. I know that these streets are red with blood, and that +your hands have been dipped in it. You must not lose your soul. I know +everything; you must come away. For Jesu’s sake!” + +Ralph tore himself free and stood up, pushing back his chair. + +“Godbody!” he said, “I have a fool for a brother. Stand up, sir. I will +have no mumming in my house.” + +He rapped his foot fiercely on the floor, staring down at Chris who had +thrown himself back on his heels. + +“Stand up, sir,” he said again. + +“Will you hear me, brother?” + +Ralph hesitated. + +“I will hear you if you will talk reason. I think you are mad.” + +Chris got up again. He was trembling violently, and his hands twitched +and clenched by his sides. + +“Then you shall hear me,” he said, and his voice shook as he spoke. “It +is this--” + +“You must sit down,” interrupted Ralph, and he pointed to the chair +behind. + +Chris went to it and sat down. Ralph took a step across to the door and +opened it. + +“Morris,” he called, and came back to his chair. + +There was silence a moment or two, till the servant’s step sounded in +the hall, and the door opened. Mr. Morris’s discreet face looked +steadily and composedly at his master. + +“Bring the pasty,” said Ralph, “and the wine.” + +He gave the servant a sharp look, seemed to glance out across the hall +for a moment and back again. There was no answering look on Mr. Morris’s +face, but he slipped out softly, leaving the door just ajar. + +Then Ralph turned to Chris again. + +Chris had had time to recover himself by now, and was sitting very pale +and composed after his dramatic outburst, his hands hidden under his +scapular, and his fingers gripped together. + +“Now tell me,” said Ralph, with his former kindly contempt. He had begun +to understand now what his brother had come about, and was determined to +be at once fatherly and decisive. This young fool must be taught his +place. + +“It is this,” said Chris, still in a trembling voice, but it grew +steadier as he went on. “God’s people are being persecuted--there is no +longer any doubt. They were saints who died yesterday, and Master +Cromwell is behind it all; and--and you serve him.” + +Ralph jerked his head to speak, but his brother went on. + +“I know you think me a fool, and I daresay you are right. But this I +know, I would sooner be a fool than--than--” + +--“than a knave” ended Ralph. “I thank you for your good opinion, my +brother. However, let that pass. You have come to teach me my business, +then?” + +“I have come to save your soul,” said Chris, grasping the arms of his +chair, and eyeing him steadily. + +“You are very good to me,” said Ralph bitterly. “Now, I do not want any +more play-acting--” He broke off suddenly as the door opened. “And here +is the food. Chris, you are not yourself”--he gave a swift look at his +servant again--“and I suppose you have had no food to-day.” + +Again he glanced out through the open door as Mr. Morris turned to go. + +Chris paid no sort of attention to the food. He seemed not to have seen +the servant’s entrance and departure. + +“I tell you,” he said again steadily, with his wide bright eyes fixed on +his brother, “I tell you, you are persecuting God’s people, and I am +come, not as your brother only, but as a monk, to warn you.” + +Ralph waved his hand, smiling, towards the dish and the bottle. It +seemed to sting Chris with a kind of fury, for his eyes blazed and his +mouth tightened as he stood up abruptly. + +“I tell you that if I were starving I would not break bread in this +house: it is the house of God’s enemy.” + +He dashed out his left hand nervously, and struck the bottle spinning +across the table; it crashed over on to the floor, and the red wine +poured on to the boards. + +“Why, there is blood before your eyes,” he screamed, mad with hunger and +sleeplessness, and the horrors he had seen; “the ground cries out.” + +Ralph had sprung up as the bottle fell, and stood trembling and glaring +across at the monk; the door opened softly, and Mr. Morris stood alert +and discreet on the threshold, but neither saw him. + +“And if you were ten times my brother,” cried Chris, “I would not touch +your hand.” + +There came a knocking at the door, and the servant disappeared. + +“Let him come, if it be the King himself,” shouted the monk, “and hear +the truth for once.” + +The servant was pushed aside protesting, and Beatrice came straight +forward into the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A RECOVERY + + +There was a moment of intense silence, only emphasized by the settling +rustle of the girl’s dress. The door had closed softly, and Mr. Morris +stood within, in the shadow by the window, ready to give help if it were +needed. Beatrice remained a yard inside the room, very upright and +dignified, a little pale, looking from one to the other of the two +brothers, who stared back at her as at a ghost. + +Ralph spoke first, swallowing once or twice in his throat before +speaking, and trying to smile. + +“It is you then,” he said. + +Beatrice moved a step nearer, looking at Chris, who stood white and +tense, his eyes wide and burning. + +“Mr. Torridon,” said Beatrice softly, “I have brought the bundle. My +woman has it.” + +Still she looked, as she spoke, questioningly at Chris. + +“Oh! this is my brother, the monk,” snapped Ralph bitterly, glancing at +him. “Indeed, he is.” + +Then Chris lost his self-control again. + +“And this is my brother, the murderer; indeed, he is.” + +Beatrice’s lips parted, and her eyes winced. She put out her hand +hesitatingly towards Ralph, and dropped it again as he moved a little +towards her. + +“You hear him?” said Ralph. + +“I do not understand,” said the girl, “your brother--” + +“Yes, I am his brother, God help me,” snarled Chris. + +Beatrice’s lips closed again, and a look of contempt came into her +face. + +“I have heard enough, Mr. Torridon. Will you come with me?” + +Chris moved forward a step. + +“I do not know who you are, madam,” he said, “but do you understand what +this gentleman is? Do you know that he is a creature of Master +Cromwell’s?” + +“I know everything,” said Beatrice. + +“And you were at Tyburn, too?” questioned Chris bitterly, “perhaps with +this brother of mine?” + +Beatrice faced him defiantly. + +“What have you to say against him, sir?” + +Ralph made a movement to speak, but the girl checked him. + +“I wish to hear it. What have you to say?” + +“He is a creature of Cromwell’s who plotted the death of God’s saints. +This brother of mine was at the examinations, I hear, and at the +scaffold. Is that enough?” + +Chris had himself under control again by now, but his words seemed to +burn with vitriol. His lips writhed as he spoke. + +“Well?” said Beatrice. + +“Well, if that is not enough; how of More and my Lord of Rochester?” + +“He has been a good friend to Mr. More,” said Beatrice, “that I know.” + +“He will get him the martyr’s crown, surely,” sneered Chris. + +“And you have no more to say?” asked the girl quietly. + +A shudder ran over the monk’s body; his mouth opened and closed, and the +fire in his eyes flared up and died; his clenched hands rose and fell. +Then he spoke quietly. + +“I have no more to say, madam.” + +Beatrice moved across to Ralph, and put her hand on his arm, looking +steadily at Chris. Ralph laid his other hand on hers a moment, then +raised it, and made an abrupt motion towards the door. + +Chris went round the table; Mr. Morris opened the door with an impassive +face, and followed him out, leaving Beatrice and Ralph alone. + + * * * * * + +Chris had come back the previous evening from Tyburn distracted almost +to madness. He had sat heavily all the evening by himself, brooding and +miserable, and had not slept all night, but waking visions had moved +continually before his eyes, as he turned to and fro on his narrow bed +in the unfamiliar room. Again and again Tyburn was before him, peopled +with phantoms; he had seen the thick ropes, and heard their creaking, +and the murmur of the multitude; had smelt the pungent wood-smoke and +the thick drifting vapour from the cauldron. Once it seemed to him that +the very room was full of figures, white-clad and silent, who watched +him with impassive pale faces, remote and unconcerned. He had flung +himself on his knees again and again, had lashed himself with the +discipline that he, too, might taste of pain; but all the serenity of +divine things was gone. There was no heaven, no Saviour, no love. He was +bound down here, crushed and stifled in this apostate city whose sounds +and cries came up into his cell. He had lost the fiery vision of the +conqueror’s welcome; it was like a tale heard long ago. Now he was +beaten down by physical facts, by the gross details of the tragedy, the +strangling, the blood, the smoke, the acrid smell of the crowd, and +heaven was darkened by the vapour. + +It was not until the next day, as he sat with the Prior and a stranger +or two, and heard the tale once more, and the predictions about More and +Fisher, that the significance of Ralph’s position appeared to him +clearly. He knew no more than before, but he suddenly understood what he +knew. + +A monk had said a word of Cromwell’s share in the matters, and the Prior +had glanced moodily at Chris for a moment, turning his eyes only as he +sat with his chin in his hand; and in a moment Chris understood. + +This was the work that his brother was doing. He sat now more distracted +than ever: mental pictures moved before him of strange council-rooms +with great men in silk on raised seats, and Ralph was among them. He +seemed to hear his bitter questions that pierced to the root of the +faith of the accused, and exposed it to the world, of their adherence to +the Vicar of Christ, their uncompromising convictions. + +He had sat through dinner with burning eyes, but the Prior noticed +nothing, for he himself was in a passion of absorption, and gave Chris a +hasty leave as he rose from table to go and see his brother if he +wished. + +Chris had walked up and down his room that afternoon, framing sentences +of appeal and pity and terror, but it was useless: he could not fix his +mind; and he had gone off at last to Westminster at once terrified for +Ralph’s soul, and blazing with indignation against him. + +And now he was walking down to the river again, in the cool of the +evening, knowing that he had ruined his own cause and his right to speak +by his intemperate fury. + + * * * * * + +It was another strange evening that he passed in the Prior’s chamber +after supper. The same monk, Dom Odo, who had taken him to Tyburn the +day before, was there again; and Chris sat in a corner, with the +reaction of his fury on him, spent and feverish, now rehearsing the +scene he had gone through with Ralph, and framing new sentences that he +might have used, now listening to the talk, and vaguely gathering its +meaning. + +It seemed that the tale of blood was only begun. + +Bedale, the Archdeacon of Cornwall, had gone that day to the +Charterhouse; he had been seen driving there, and getting out at the +door with a bundle of books under his arm, and he had passed in through +the gate over which Prior Houghton’s arm had been hung on the previous +evening. It was expected that some more arrests would be made +immediately. + +“As for my Lord of Rochester,” said the monk, who seemed to revel in the +business of bearing bad news, “and Master More, I make no doubt they +will be cast. They are utterly fixed in their opinions. I hear that my +lord is very sick, and I pray that God may take him to Himself. He is +made Cardinal in Rome, I hear; but his Grace has sworn that he shall +have no head to wear the hat upon.” + +Then he went off into talk upon the bishop, describing his sufferings in +the Tower, for he was over eighty years old, and had scarcely sufficient +clothes to cover him. + +Now and again Chris looked across at his Superior. The Prior sat there +in his great chair, his head on his hand, silent and absorbed; it was +only when Dom Odo stopped for a moment that he glanced up impatiently +and nodded for him to go on. It seemed as if he could not hear enough, +and yet Chris saw him wince, and heard him breathe sharply as each new +detail came out. + +The monk told them, too, of Prior Houghton’s speech upon the cart. + +“They asked him whether even then he would submit to the King’s laws, +and he called God to witness that it was not for obstinacy or perversity +that he refused, but that the King and the Parliament had decreed +otherwise than our Holy Mother enjoins; and that for himself he would +sooner suffer every kind of pain than deny a doctrine of the Church. And +when he had prayed from the thirtieth Psalm, he was turned off.” + +The Prior stared almost vacantly at the monk who told his story with a +kind of terrified gusto, and once or twice his lips moved to speak; but +he was silent, and dropped his chin upon his hand again when the other +had done. + + * * * * * + +Chris scarcely knew how the days passed away that followed his arrival +in London. He spent them for the most part within doors, writing for the +Prior in the mornings, or keeping watch over the door as his Superior +talked with prelates and churchmen within, for ecclesiastical London was +as busy as a broken ant-hill, and men came and went continually--scared, +furtive monks, who looked this way and that, an abbot or two up for the +House of Lords, priors and procurators on business. There were continual +communications going to and fro among the religious houses, for the +prince of them, the contemplative Carthusian, had been struck at, and no +one knew where the assault would end. + +Meanwhile, Chris had heard no further news from Ralph. He thought of +writing to him, and even of visiting him again, but his heart sickened +at the thought of it. It was impossible, he told himself, that any +communication should pass between them until his brother had forsaken +his horrible business; the first sign of regret must come from the one +who had sinned. He wondered sometimes who the girl was, and, as a +hot-headed monk, suspected the worst. A man who could live as Ralph was +living could have no morals left. She had been so friendly with him, so +ready to defend him, so impatient, Chris thought, of any possibility of +wrong. No doubt she, too, was one of the corrupt band, one of the great +ladies that buzzed round the Court, and sucked the blood of God’s +people. + +His own interior life, however, so roughly broken by his new +experiences, began to mend slowly as the days went on. + +He had begun, like a cat in a new house, to make himself slowly at home +in the hostel, and to set up that relation between outward objects and +his own self that is so necessary to interior souls not yet living in +detachment. He arranged his little room next the Prior’s to be as much +as possible like his cell, got rid of one or two pieces of furniture +that distracted him, set his bed in another corner, and hung up his +beads in the same position that they used to occupy at Lewes. Each +morning he served the Prior’s mass in the tiny chapel attached to the +house, and did his best both then and at his meditation to draw in the +torn fibres of his spirit. At moments of worship the supernatural world +began to appear again, like points of living rock emerging through sand, +detached and half stifled by external details, but real and abiding. +Little by little his serenity came back, and the old atmosphere +reasserted itself. After all, God was here as there; grace, penance, the +guardianship of the angels and the sacrament of the altar was the same +at Southwark as at Lewes. These things remained; while all else was +accidental--the different height of his room, the unfamiliar angles in +the passages, the new noises of London, the street cries, the clash of +music, the disordered routine of daily life. + +Half-way through June, after a long morning’s conversation with a +stranger, the Prior sent for him. + +He was standing by the tall carved fire-place with his back to the door, +his head and one hand leaning against the stone, and he turned round +despondently as Chris came in. Chris could see he was deadly pale and +that his lips twitched with nervousness. + +“Brother,” he said, “I have a perilous matter to go through, and you +must come with me.” + +Chris felt his heart begin to labour with heavy sick beats. + +“I am to see my Lord of Rochester. A friend hath obtained the order. We +are to go at five o’clock. See that you be ready. We shall take boat at +the stairs.” + +Chris waited, with his eyes deferentially cast down. + +“He is to be tried again on Thursday,” went on the Prior, “and my +friends wish me to see him, God knows--” + +He stopped abruptly, made a sign with his hand, and as Chris left the +room he saw that he was leaning once more against the stone-work, and +that his head was buried in his arms. + +Three more Carthusians had been condemned in the previous week, but the +Bishop’s trial, though his name was in the first indictment, was +postponed a few days. + +He too, like Sir Thomas More, had been over a year in the Tower; he had +been deprived of his see by an Act of Parliament, his palace had been +broken into and spoiled, and he himself, it was reported, was being +treated with the greatest rigour in the Tower. + +Chris was overcome with excitement at the thought that he was to see +this man. He had heard of his learning, his holiness, and his +austerities on all hands since his coming to London. When the bishop had +left Rochester at his summons to London a year before there had been a +wonderful scene of farewell, of which the story was still told in town. +The streets had been thronged with a vast crowd weeping and praying, as +he rode among them bare-headed, giving his blessing as he went. He had +checked his horse by the city-gate, and with a loud voice had bidden +them all stand by the old religion, and let no man take it from them. +And now here he lay himself in prison for the Faith, a Cardinal of the +Holy Roman Church, with scarcely clothes to cover him or food to eat. At +the sacking of his palace, too, as the men ran from room to room tearing +down the tapestries, and piling the plate together, a monk had found a +great iron box hidden in a corner. They cried to one another that it +held gold “for the bloody Pope”; and burst it open to find a hair shirt, +and a pair of disciplines. + + * * * * * + +It was a long row down to the Tower from Southwark against the +in-flowing tide. As they passed beneath the bridge Chris stared up at +the crowding houses, the great gates at either end, and the faces +craning down; and he caught one glimpse as they shot through the narrow +passage between the piers, of the tall wall above the gate, the poles +rising from it, and the severed heads that crowned them. Somewhere among +that forest of grim stems the Carthusian priors looked down. + +As he turned in his seat he saw the boatman grinning to himself, and +following his eyes observed the Prior beside him with a white fixed face +looking steadily downwards towards his feet. + +They found no difficulty when they landed at the stairs, and showed the +order at the gate. The warder called to a man within the guard-room who +came out and went before them along the walled way that led to the +inner ward. They turned up to the left presently and found themselves in +the great court that surrounded the White Tower. + +The Prior walked heavily with his face downcast as if he wished to avoid +notice, and Chris saw that he paid no attention to the men-at-arms and +other persons here and there who saluted his prelate’s insignia. There +were plenty of people going about in the evening sunshine, soldiers and +attendants, and here and there at the foot of a tower stood a halberdier +in his buff jacket leaning on his weapon. There were many distinguished +persons in the Tower now, both ecclesiastics and laymen who had refused +to take one or both of the oaths, and Chris eyed the windows +wonderingly, picturing to himself where each lay, and with what courage. + +But more and more as he went he wondered why the Prior and he were here, +and who had obtained the order of admittance, for he had not had a sight +of it. + +When they reached the foot of the prison-tower the warder said a word to +the sentry, and took the two monks straight past, preceding them up the +narrow stairs that wound into darkness. There were windows here and +there, slits in the heavy masonry, through which Chris caught glimpses, +now of the moat on the west, now of the inner ward with the White Tower +huge and massive on the east. + +The Prior, who went behind the warder and in front of Chris, stopped +suddenly, and Chris could hear him whispering to himself; and at the +same time there sounded the creaking of a key in front. + +As the young monk stood there waiting, grasping the stone-work on his +right, again the excitement surged up; and with it was mingled something +of terror. It had been a formidable experience even to walk those few +hundred yards from the outer gate, and the obvious apprehensiveness of +the Prior who had spoken no audible word since they had landed, was far +from reassuring. + +Here he stood now for the first time in his life within those terrible +walls; he had seen the low Traitor’s Gate on his way that was for so +many the gate of death. Even now as he gripped the stone he could see +out to the left through the narrow slit a streak of open land beyond the +moat and the wall, and somewhere there he knew lay the little rising +ground, that reddened week after week in an ooze of blood and slime. And +now he was at the door of one who without doubt would die there soon for +the Faith that they both professed. + +The Prior turned sharply round. + +“You!” he said, “I had forgotten: you must wait here till I call you +in.” + +There was a sounding of an opening door above; the Prior went up and +forward, leaving him standing there; the door closed, but not before +Chris had caught a glimpse of a vaulted roof; and then the warder stood +by him again, waiting with his keys in his hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +PRISONER AND PRINCE + + +The sun sank lower and had begun to throw long shadows before the door +opened again and the Prior beckoned. As Chris had stood there staring +out of the window at the green water of the moat and the shadowed wall +beyond, with the warder standing a few steps below, now sighing at the +delay, now humming a line or two, he had heard voices now and again from +the room above, but it had been no more than a murmur that died once +more into silence. + + * * * * * + +Chris was aware of a dusty room as he stepped over the threshold, bare +walls, one or two solid pieces of furniture, and of the Prior’s figure +very upright in the light from the tiny window at one side; and then he +forgot everything as he looked at the man that was standing smiling by +the table. + +It was a very tall slender figure, dressed in a ragged black gown +turning green with age; a little bent now, but still dignified; the face +was incredibly lean, with great brown eyes surrounded by wrinkles, and a +little white hair, ragged, too, and long, hung down under the old +flapped cap. The hand that Chris kissed seemed a bundle of reeds bound +with parchment, and above the wrist bones the arm grew thinner still +under the loose, torn sleeve. + +Then the monk stood up and saw those kindly proud eyes looking into his +own. + +The Prior made a deferential movement and said a word or two, and the +bishop answered him. + +“Yes, yes, my Lord Prior; I understand--God bless you, my son.” + +The bishop moved across to the chair, and sat down, panting a little, +for he was torn by sickness and deprivation, and laid his long hands +together. + +“Sit down, brother,” he said, “and you too, my Lord Prior.” + +Chris saw the Prior move across to an old broken stool, but he himself +remained standing, awed and almost terrified at that worn face in which +the eyes alone seemed living; so thin that the cheekbones stood out +hideously, and the line of the square jaw. But the voice was wonderfully +sweet and penetrating. + +“My Lord Prior and I have been talking of the times, and what is best to +be done, and how we must all be faithful. You will be faithful, +brother?” + +Chris made an effort against the absorbing fascination of that face and +voice. + +“I will, my lord.” + +“That is good; you must follow your prior and be obedient to him. You +will find him wise and courageous.” + +The bishop nodded gently towards the Prior, and Chris heard a sobbing +indrawn breath from the corner where the broken stool stood. + +“It is a time of great moment,” went on the bishop; “much hangs on how +we carry ourselves. His Grace has evil counsellors about him.” + +There was silence for a moment or two; Chris could not take his eyes +from the bishop’s face. The frightful framework of skin and bones seemed +luminous from within, and there was an extraordinary sweetness on those +tightly drawn lips, and in the large bright eyes. + +“His Grace has been to the Tower lately, I hear, and once to the +Marshalsea, to see Dom Sebastian Newdegate, who, as you know, was at +Court for many years till he entered the Charterhouse; but I have had no +visit from him, nor yet, I should think, Master More--you must not judge +his Grace too hardly, my son; he was a good lad, as I knew very well--a +very gallant and brave lad. A Frenchman said that he seemed to have come +down from heaven. And he has always had a great faith and devotion, and +a very strange and delicate conscience that has cost him much pain. But +he has been counselled evilly.” + +Chris remembered as in a dream that the bishop had been the King’s tutor +years before. + +“He is a good theologian too,” went on the bishop, “and that is his +misfortune now, though I never thought to say such a thing. Perhaps he +will become a better one still, if God has mercy on him, and he will +come back to his first faith. But we must be good Catholics ourselves, +and be ready to die for our Religion, before we can teach him.” + +Again, after another silence, he went on. + +“You are to be a priest, I hear, my son, and to take Christ’s yoke more +closely upon you. It is no easy one in these days, though love will make +it so, as Himself said. I suppose it will be soon now?” + +“We are to get a dispensation, my lord, for the interstices,” said the +Prior. + +Chris had heard that this would be done, before he left Lewes, and he +was astonished now, not at the news, but at the strange softness of the +Prior’s voice. + +“That is very well,” went on the bishop. “We want all the faithful +priests possible. There is a great darkness in the land, and we need +lights to lighten it. You have a brother in Master Cromwell’s service, +sir, I hear?” + +Chris was silent. + +“You must not grieve too much. God Almighty can set all right. It may be +he thinks he is serving Him. We are not here to judge, but to give our +own account.” + +The bishop went on presently to ask a few questions and to talk of +Master More, saying that he had managed to correspond with him for a +while, but that now all the means for doing so had been taken away from +them both, as well as his own books. + +“It is a great grief to me that I cannot say my office, nor say nor hear +mass: I must trust now to the Holy Sacrifice offered by others.” + +He spoke so tenderly and tranquilly that Chris was hardly able to keep +back his tears. It seemed that the soul still kept its serene poise in +that wasted body, and was independent of it. There was no weakness nor +peevishness anywhere. The very room with its rough walls, its cobwebbed +roof, its uneven flooring, its dreadful chill and gloom, seemed alive +with a warm, redolent, spiritual atmosphere generated by this keen, pure +soul. Chris had never been near so real a sanctity before. + +“You have seen nothing of my Rochester folk, I suppose?” went on the +bishop to the Prior. + +The Prior shook his head. + +“I am very downcast about them sometimes; I saw many of them at the +court the other day. I forget that the Good Shepherd can guard His own +sheep. And they were so faithful to me that I know they will be faithful +to Him.” + + * * * * * + +There came a sound of a key being knocked upon the door outside, and the +bishop stood up, slowly and painfully. + +“That will be Mr. Giles,” he said, “hungry for supper.” + +The two monks sank down on their knees, and as Chris closed his eyes he +heard a soft murmur of blessing over his head. + +Then each kissed his hand and Chris went to the door, half blind with +tears. + +He heard a whisper from the bishop to the Prior, who still lingered a +moment, and a half sob-- + +“God helping me!”--said the Prior. + +There was no more spoken, and the two went down the stairs together into +the golden sunshine with the warder behind them. + +Chris dared not look at the other. He had had a glimpse of his face as +he stood aside on the stairs to let him pass, and what he saw there told +him enough. + + * * * * * + +There were plenty of boats rocking on the tide at the foot of the river +stairs outside the Tower, and they stepped into one, telling the man to +row to Southwark. + +It was a glorious summer evening now. The river lay bathed in the level +sunshine that turned it to molten gold, and it was covered with boats +plying in all directions. There were single wherries going to and from +the stairs that led down on all sides into the water, and barges here +and there, of the great merchants or nobles going home to supper, with a +line of oars on each side, and a glow of colour gilding in the stem and +prow, were moving up stream towards the City. London Bridge stood out +before them presently, like a palace in a fairy-tale, blue and romantic +against the western glow, and above it and beyond rose up the tall spire +of the Cathedral. On the other side a fringe of houses began a little to +the east of the bridge, and ran up to the spires of Southwark on the +other side, and on them lay a glory of sunset with deep shadows barring +them where the alleys ran down to the water’s edge. Here and there +behind rose up the heavy masses of the June foliage. A troop of swans, +white patches on the splendour, were breasting up against the +out-flowing tide. + +The air was full of sound; the rattle and dash of oars, men’s voices +coming clear and minute across the water; and as they got out near +mid-stream the bell of St. Paul’s boomed indescribably +solemn and melodious; another church took it up, and a chorus of mellow +voices tolled out the Angelus. + +Chris was half through saying it to himself, when across the soft murmur +sounded the clash of brass far away beyond the bridge. + +The boatman paused at his oars, turned round a moment, grasping them in +one hand, and stared up-stream under the other. Chris could see a +movement among the boats higher up, and there seemed to break out a +commotion at the foot of the houses on London Bridge, and then far away +came the sound of cheering. + +“What is it?” asked the Prior sharply, lifting his head, as the boatman +gave an exclamation and laid furiously to his oars again. + +The man jerked his head backwards. + +“The King’s Grace,” he said. + + * * * * * + +For a minute or two nothing more was to be seen. A boat or two near them +was seen making off to the side from mid-stream, to leave a clear +passage, and there were cries from the direction of the bridge where +someone seemed to be in difficulties with the strong stream and the +piers. A wherry that was directly between them and the bridge moved +off, and the shining water-way was left for the King’s Grace to come +down. + +Then, again, the brass horns sounded nearer. + +Chris was conscious of an immense excitement. The dramatic contrast of +the scene he had just left with that which he was witnessing overpowered +him. He had seen one end of the chain of life, the dying bishop in the +Tower, in his rags; now he was to see the other end, the Sovereign at +whose will he was there, in all the magnificence of a pageant. The Prior +was sitting bolt upright on the seat beside him; one hand lay on his +knee, the knuckles white with clenching, the other gripped the side of +the boat. + +Then, again, the fierce music sounded, and the first boat appeared under +one of the wider spans of the bridge, a couple of hundred yards away. + +The stream was running out strongly by now, and the boatman tugged to +get out of it into the quieter water at the side, and as he pulled an +oar snapped. The Prior half started up as the man burst out into an +exclamation, and began to paddle furiously with the other oar, but the +boat revolved helplessly, and he was forced to change it to the opposite +side. + +Meanwhile the boats were beginning to stream under the bridge, and +Chris, seeing that the boat in which he sat was sufficiently out of the +way to allow a clear passage in mid-stream even if not far enough +removed for proper deference, gave himself up to watching the splendid +sight. + +The sun had now dropped behind the high houses by the bridge, and a +shadow lay across the water, but nearer at hand the way was clear, and +in a moment more the leading boat had entered the sunlight. + +There was no possibility of mistake as to whether this were the royal +barge or no. It was a great craft, seventy feet from prow to stem at +the very least, and magnificent with colour. As it burst out into the +sun, it blazed blindingly with gold; the prow shone with blue and +crimson; the stern, roofed in with a crimson canopy with flying tassels, +trailed brilliant coarse tapestries on either side; and the Royal +Standard streamed out behind. + +Chris tried to count the oars, as they swept into the water with a +rhythmical throb and out again, flashing a fringe of drops and showing a +coat painted on each blade. There seemed to be eight or ten a side. A +couple of trumpeters stood in the bows, behind the gilded carved +figurehead, their trumpets held out symmetrically with the square +hangings flapping as they came. + +He could see now the heads of the watermen who rowed, with the caps of +the royal livery moving together like clockwork at the swing of the +oars. + +Behind followed the other boats, some half dozen in all; and as each +pair burst out into the level sunlight with a splendour of gold and +colour, and the roar from London Bridge swelled louder and louder, for a +moment the young monk forgot the bitter underlying tragedy of all that +he had seen and knew--forgot oozy Tower-hill and trampled Tyburn and the +loaded gallows--forgot even the grim heads that stared out with dead +tortured eyes from the sheaves of pikes rising high above him at this +moment against the rosy sky--forgot the monks of the Charterhouse and +their mourning hearts; the insulted queen, repudiated and declared a +concubine--forgot all that made life so hard to live and understand at +this time--as this splendid vision of the lust of the eyes broke out in +pulsating sound and colour before him. + +But it was only for a moment. + +There was a group of half-a-dozen persons under the canopy of the +seat-of-state of the leading boat; the splendid centre of the splendid +show, brilliant in crimson and gold and jewels. + +On the further side sat two men. Chris did not know their faces, but as +his eyes rested on them a moment he noticed that one was burly and +clean-shaven, and wore some insignia across his shoulders. At the near +side were the backs of two ladies, silken clad and slashed with crimson, +their white jewelled necks visible under their coiled hair and tight +square cut caps. And in the centre sat a pair, a man and a woman; and on +these he fixed his eyes as the boat swept up not twenty yards away, for +he knew who they must be. + +The man was leaning back, looking gigantic in his puffed sleeves and +wide mantle; one great arm was flung along the back of the tapestried +seat, and his large head, capped with purple and feathers, was bending +towards the woman who sat beyond. Chris could make out a fringe of +reddish hair beneath his ear and at the back of the flat head between +the high collar and the cap. He caught a glimpse, too, of a sedate face +beyond, set on a slender neck, with downcast eyes and red lips. And then +as the boat came opposite, and the trumpeters sent out a brazen crash +from the trumpets at their lips, the man turned his head and stared +straight at the boat. + +It was an immensely wide face, fringed with reddish hair, scanty about +the lips and more full below; and it looked the wider from the narrow +drooping eyes set near together and the small pursed mouth. Below, his +chin swelled down fold after fold into his collar, and the cheeks were +wide and heavy on either side. + +It was the most powerful face that Chris had ever seen or dreamed +of--the animal brooded in every line and curve of it--it would have +been brutish but for the steady pale stare of the eyes and the tight +little lips. It fascinated and terrified him. + +The flourish ended, the roar of the rowlocks sounded out again like the +beating of a furious heart; the King turned his head again and said +something, and the boat swept past. + +Chris found that he had started to his feet, and sat down again, +breathing quickly and heavily, with a kind of indignant loathing that +was new to him. + +This then was the master of England, the heart of all their +troubles--that gorgeous fat man with the broad pulpy face, in his +crimson and jewels; and that was his concubine who sat demure beside +him, with her white folded ringed hands on her lap, her beautiful eyes +cast down, and her lord’s hot breath in her ear! It was these that were +purifying the Church of God of such men as the Cardinal-bishop in the +Tower, and the witty holy lawyer! It was by the will of such as these +that the heads of the Carthusian Fathers, bound brow and chin with +linen, stared up and down with dead eyes from the pikes overhead. + +He sat panting and unseeing as the other boats swept past, full of the +King’s friends all going down to Greenwich. + +There broke out a roar from the Tower behind, and he started and turned +round to see the white smoke eddying up from the edge of the wall beside +the Traitor’s gate; a shrill cheer or two, far away and thin, sounded +from the figures on the wharf and the boatmen about the stairs. + +The wherryman sat down again and put on his cap. + +“Body of God!” he said, “there was but just time.” + +And he began to pull again with his single oar towards the shore. + +Chris looked at the Prior a moment and down again. He was sitting with +tight lips, and hands clasped in his lap, and his eyes were wild and +piteous. + +They borrowed an oar presently from another boat, and went on up towards +Southwark. The wherryman pawed once to spit on his hands as they neared +the rush of the current below the bridge. + +“That was Master Cromwell with His Grace,” he said. + +Chris looked at him questioningly. + +“Him with the gold collar,” he added, “and that was Audley by him.” + +The Prior had glanced at Chris as Cromwell’s name was mentioned; but +said nothing for the present. And Chris himself was lost again in +musing. That was Ralph’s master then, the King’s right-hand man, feared +next in England after the King himself--and Chancellor Audley, too, and +Anne, all in one wooden boat. How easy for God to put out His hand and +finish them! And then he was ashamed at his own thought, so faithless +and timid; and he remembered Fisher once more and his gallant spirit in +that broken body. + +A minute or two later they had landed at the stairs, and were making +their way up to the hostel. + +The Prior put out his hand and checked him as he stepped ahead to knock. + +“Wait,” he said. “Do you know who signed the order we used at the +Tower?” + +Chris shook his head. + +“Master Cromwell,” said the Prior. “And do you know by whose hand it +came?” + +Chris stared in astonishment. + +“It was by your brother,” he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE SACRED PURPLE + + +It was a bright morning a few days later when the Bishop of Rochester +suffered on Tower Hill. + +Chris was there early, and took up his position at the outskirts of the +little crowd, facing towards the Tower itself; and for a couple of hours +watched the shadows creep round the piles of masonry, and the light +deepen and mellow between him and the great mass of the White Tower a +few hundred yards away. There was a large crowd there a good while +before nine o’clock, and Chris found himself at the hour no longer on +the outskirts but in the centre of the people. + +He had served the Prior’s mass at six o’clock, and had obtained leave +from him the night before to be present at the execution; but the Prior +himself had given no suggestion of coming. Chris had begun to see that +his superior was going through a conflict, and that he wished to spare +himself any further motives of terror; he began too to understand that +the visit to the bishop had had the effect of strengthening the Prior’s +courage, whatever had been the intention on the part of the authorities +in allowing him to go. He was still wondering why Ralph had lent himself +to the scheme; but had not dared to press his superior further. + + * * * * * + +The bishop had made a magnificent speech at his trial, and had +protested with an extraordinary pathos, that called out a demonstration +from the crowd in court, against Master Rich’s betrayal of his +confidence. Under promise of the King that nothing that he said to his +friend should be used against him, the bishop had shown his mind in a +private conversation on the subject of the Supremacy Act, and now this +had been brought against him by Rich himself at the trial. + +“Seeing it pleased the King’s Highness,” said the bishop, “to send to me +thus secretly to know my poor advice and opinion, which I most gladly +was, and ever will be, ready to offer to him when so commanded, methinks +it very hard to allow the same as sufficient testimony against me, to +prove me guilty of high treason.” + +Rich excused himself by affirming that he said or did nothing more than +what the King commanded him to do; and the trial ended by the bishop’s +condemnation. + + * * * * * + +As Chris waited by the scaffold he prayed almost incessantly. There was +sufficient spur for prayer in the menacing fortress before him with its +hundred tiny windows, and the new scaffold, some five or six feet high, +that stood in the foreground. He wondered how the bishop was passing his +time and thought he knew. The long grey wall beyond the moat, and the +towers that rose above it, were suggestive in their silent strength. +From where he stood too he could catch a glimpse of the shining reaches +of the river with the green slopes on the further side; and the freedom +and beauty of the sight, the delicate haze that hung over the water, the +birds winging their way across, the boats plying to and fro, struck a +vivid contrast to the grim fatality of the prison and the scaffold. + +A bell sounded out somewhere from the Tower, and a ripple ran through +the crowd. There was an immensely tall man a few yards from Chris, and +Chris could see his face turn suddenly towards the lower ground by the +river where the gateway rose up dark against the bright water. The man’s +face suddenly lighted with interest, and Chris saw his lips move and his +eyes become intent. Then a surging movement began, and the monk was +swept away to the left by the packed crowd round him. There were faces +lining the wall and opposite, and all were turned one way. A great +murmur began to swell up, and a woman beside him turned white and began +to sob quietly. + +His eyes caught a bright point of light that died again, flashed out, +and resolved itself into a gleaming line of halberds, moving on towards +the right above the heads, up the slope to the scaffold. He saw a horse +toss his head; and then a feathered cap or two swaying behind. + +Then for one instant between the shifting heads in front he caught sight +of a lean face framed in a flapped cap swaying rhythmically as if borne +on a chair. It vanished again. + +The flashing line of halberds elongated itself, divided, and came +between the scaffold and him; and the murmur of the crowd died to a +heart-shaking silence. A solemn bell clanged out again from the interior +of the prison, and Chris, his wet hands knit together, began to count +the strokes mechanically, staring at the narrow rail of the scaffold, +and waiting for the sight that he knew would come. Then again he was +swept along a yard or two to the right, and when he had recovered his +feet a man was on the scaffold, bending forwards and gesticulating. +Another head rose into the line of vision, and this man too turned +towards the steps up which he had come, and stood, one hand +outstretched. + +Again a murmur and movement began; Chris had to look to his foothold, +and when he raised his head again a solemn low roar was rising up and +swelling, of pity and excitement, for, silhouetted against the sunlit +Tower behind, stood the man for whose sake all were there. + +He was in a black gown and tippet, and carried his two hands clasped to +his breast; and in them was a book and a crucifix. His cap was on his +head, and the white face, incredibly thin, looked out over the heads of +the crowd. + +Chris hardly noticed that the scaffold was filling with people, until a +figure came forward, in black, with a masked face, and bowed +deferentially to the bishop; and in an instant silence fell again. + +He saw the bishop turn and bow slightly in return, and in the stillness +that wonderful voice sounded out, with the clear minuteness of words +spoken in the open air, clear and penetrating over the whole ground. + +“I forgive you very heartily; and I hope you will see me overcome this +storm lustily.” + +The black figure fell back, and the bishop stood hesitating, looking +this way and that as if for direction. + +The Lieutenant of the Tower came forward; but Chris could only see his +lips move, as a murmur had broken out again at the bishop’s answer; but +he signed with his hand and stepped behind the prisoner. + +The bishop nodded, lifted his hand and took off his cap; and his white +hair appeared; then he fumbled at his throat, holding the book and +crucifix in his other hand; and, with the Lieutenant’s help, slipped off +his tippet and loose gown; and as he freed himself, and stood in his +doublet and hose, a great sobbing cry of horror and compassion rose from +the straining faces, for he seemed scarcely to be a living man, so +dreadful was his emaciation. Above that lean figure of death looked out +the worn old face, serene and confident. He was again holding the book +and crucifix clasped to his breast, as he stepped to the edge of the +scaffold. + +The cry died to a murmur and ceased abruptly as he began his speech, +every word of which was audible. + +“Christian people,” he began, “I am come hither to die for the faith of +Christ’s holy Catholic Church.” He raised his voice a little, and it +rang out confidently. “And I thank God that hitherto my stomach hath +served me very well thereunto, so that yet I have not feared death. +Wherefore I desire you all to help and assist with your prayers, that at +the very point and instant of death’s stroke I may in that very moment +stand steadfast, without fainting in any one point of the Catholic +Faith, free from any fear.” + +He paused again; his hands closed one on the other. He glanced up. + +“And I beseech the Almighty God of His infinite goodness and mercy, to +save the King and this realm; and that it may please Him to hold His +hand over it, and send the King’s Highness good counsel.” + +He ceased abruptly; and dropped his head. + +A gentle groan ran through the crowd. + +Chris felt his throat contract, and a mist blinded his eyes for a +moment. + +Then he saw the bishop slip the crucifix into his other hand, and open +the book, apparently at random. His lean finger dropped upon the page; +and he read aloud softly, as if to himself. + +“This is life eternal, that they might know Thee, the one true God, and +Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent. I have glorified Thee on the earth; I +have finished the work which Thou gavest me to do.” + +Again there was silence, for it seemed as if he was going to make a +sermon, but he looked down at the book a moment or two. Then he closed +it gently. + +“Here is learning enough for me,” he said, “to my life’s end.” + +There was a movement among the silent figures at the back of the +scaffold; and the Lieutenant stepped forward once more. The bishop +turned to meet him and nodded; handing him the book; and then with the +crucifix still in his hands, and with the officer’s help, sank on to his +knees. + + * * * * * + +It seemed to Chris as if he waited an eternity; but he could not take +his eyes off him. Round about was the breathing mass of the crowd, +overhead the clear summer sky; up from the river came the sounds of +cries and the pulse of oars, and from the Tower now and again the call +of a horn and the stroke of a bell; but all this was external, and +seemed to have no effect upon the intense silence of the heart that +radiated from the scaffold, and in which the monk felt himself +enveloped. The space between himself and the bishop seemed annihilated; +and Chris found himself in company with a thousand others close beside +the man’s soul that was to leave the world so soon. He could not pray; +but he had the sensation of gripping that imploring spirit, pulsating +with it, furthering with his own strained will that stream of effort +that he knew was going forth. + +Meanwhile his eyes stared at him; and saw without seeing how the old man +now leaned back with closed eyes and moving lips; now he bent forward, +and looked at the crucified figure that he held between his hands, now +lifted it and lingeringly kissed the pierced feet. Behind stood the +stiff line of officers, and in front below the rail rose the glitter of +the halberds. + +The minutes went by and there was no change. The world seemed to have +grown rigid with expectancy; it was as if time stood still. There fell +upon the monk’s soul, not suddenly but imperceptibly, something of that +sense of the unseen that he had experienced at Tyburn. For a certain +space all sorrow and terror left him; he knew tangibly now that to which +at other times his mere faith assented; he knew that the world of spirit +was the real one; that the Tower, the axe, the imminent shadow of death, +were little more than illusions; they were part of the staging, +significant and necessary, but with no substance of reality. The eternal +world in which God was all, alone was a fact. He felt no longer pity or +regret. Nothing but the sheer existence of a Being of which all persons +there were sharers, poised in an eternal instant, remained with him. + +This strange sensation was scarcely disturbed by the rising of the lean +black figure from its knees; Chris watched him as he might have watched +the inevitable movement of an actor performing his pre-arranged part. +The bishop turned eastward, to where the sun was now high above the +Tower gate, and spoke once more. + +“_Accedite ad eum, et illuminamini; et facies vestræ non confundentur_.” + +Then once more in the deathly stillness he turned round; and his eyes +ran over the countless faces turned up to his own. But there was a +certain tranquil severity in his face--the severity of one who has taken +a bitter cup firmly into his hand; his lips were tightly compressed, and +his eyes were deep and steady. + +Then very slowly he lifted his right hand, touched his forehead, and +enveloped himself in a great sign of the cross, still looking out +unwaveringly over the faces; and immediately, without any hesitation, +sank down on his knees, put his hands before him on to the scaffold, and +stretched himself flat. + +He was now invisible to Chris; for the low block on which he had laid +his neck was only a few inches high. + +There was again a surge and a murmur as the headsman stepped forward +with the huge-headed axe over his shoulder, and stood waiting. + +Then again the moments began to pass. + + * * * * * + +Chris lost all consciousness of his own being; he was aware of nothing +but the objective presence of the scaffold, of an overpowering +expectancy. It seemed as if something were stretched taut in his brain, +at breaking point; as if some vast thing were on the point of +revelation. All else had vanished,--the scene round him, the sense of +the invisible; there was but the point of space left, waiting for an +explosion. + +There was a sense of wrenching torture as the headsman lifted the axe, +bringing it high round behind him; the motion seemed shockingly slow, +and to wring the strained nerves to agony.... + + * * * * * + +Then in a blinding climax the axe fell. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE KING’S FRIEND + + +Overfield Court was mildly stirred at the news that Master Christopher +would stay there a few days on his way back from London to Lewes. It was +not so exciting as when Master Ralph was to come, as the latter made +more demands than a mere monk; for the one the horses must be in the +pink of condition, the game neither too wild nor too tame, his rooms +must be speckless, neither too full nor too empty of furniture; for the +other it did not matter so much, for he was now not only a younger +brother, but a monk, and therefore accustomed to contradiction and +desirous to acquiesce in arrangements. + +Lady Torridon indeed took no steps at all when she heard that Chris was +coming, beyond expressing a desire that she might not be called upon to +discuss the ecclesiastical situation at every meal; and when Chris +finally arrived a week after Bishop Fisher’s execution, having parted +with the Prior at Cuckfield, she was walking in her private garden +beyond the moat. + +Sir James was in a very different state. He had caused two rooms to be +prepared, that his son might take his choice, one next to Mr. Carleton’s +and therefore close to the chapel, and the other the old chamber that +Chris had occupied before he went to Lewes; and when the monk at last +rode up on alone on his tired mule with his little bag strapped to the +crupper, an hour before sunset, his father was out at the gatehouse to +meet him, and walked up beside him to the house, with his hand laid on +his son’s knee. + +They hardly spoke a word as they went; Sir James had looked up at +Chris’s white strained face, and had put one question; and the other had +nodded; and the hearts of both were full as they went together to the +house. + +The father and son supped together alone that night in the private +parlour, for no one had dared to ask Lady Torridon to postpone her usual +supper hour; and as soon as that was over and Chris had told what he had +seen, with many silences, they went into the oak-room where Lady +Torridon and Mr. Carleton were awaiting them by the hearth with the +Flemish tiles. + +The mother was sitting as usual in her tall chair, with her beautiful +hands on her lap, and smiled with a genial contempt as she ran her eyes +up and down her son’s figure. + +“The habit suits you very well, my son--in every way,” she added, +looking at him curiously. + +Chris had greeted her an hour before at his arrival, so there was no +ceremony of salute to be gone through now. He sat down by his father. + +“You have seen Ralph, I hear,” observed Lady Torridon. + +Chris did not know how much she knew, and simply assented. He had told +his father everything. + +“I have some news,” she went on in an unusually talkative mood, “for you +both. Ralph is to marry Beatrice Atherton--the girl you saw in his +rooms, Christopher.” + +Sir James gave an exclamation and leant forward; and Chris tightened his +lips. + +“She is a friend of Mr. More’s,” went on Lady Torridon, apparently +unconscious of the sensation she was making, “but that is Ralph’s +business, I suppose.” + +“Why did Ralph not write to me?” asked his father, with a touch of +sternness. + +Lady Torridon answered him by a short pregnant silence, and then went +on-- + +“I suppose he wished me to break it to you. It will not be for two or +three years. She says she cannot leave Mrs. More for the present.” + +Chris’s brain was confused by the news, and yet it all seemed external +to him. As he had ridden up to the house in the evening he had +recognised for the first time how he no longer belonged to the place; +his two years at Lewes had done their work, and he came to his home now +not as a son but as a guest. He had even begun to perceive the +difference after his quarrel with Ralph, for he had not been conscious +of the same personal sting at his brother’s sins that he would have felt +five years ago. And now this news, while it affected him, did not +penetrate to the still sanctuary that he had hewn out of his heart +during those months of discipline. + +But his father was roused. + +“He should have written to me,” he said sternly. “And, my wife, I will +beg you to remember that I have a right to my son’s business.” + +Lady Torridon did not move or answer. He leaned back again, and passed +his hand tenderly through Chris’s arm. + + * * * * * + +It was very strange to the younger son to find himself a few minutes +later up again in the west gallery of the chapel, where he had knelt two +years before; and for a few moments he almost felt himself at home. But +the mechanical shifting of his scapular aside as he sat down for the +psalms, recalled facts. Then he had been in his silk suit, his hands had +been rough with his cross-bow, his beard had been soft on his chin, and +the blood hot in his cheeks. Now he was in his habit, smooth-faced and +shaven, tired and oppressed, still weak from the pangs of soul-birth. He +was further from human love, but nearer the Divine, he thought. + +He sat with his father a few minutes after compline; and Sir James spoke +more frankly of the news that they had heard. + +“If she is really a friend of Mr. More’s,” he said, “she may be his +salvation. I am sorely disappointed in him. I did not know Master +Cromwell when I sent him to him, as I do now. Is it my fault, Chris?” + + * * * * * + +Chris told his father presently of what the Prior had said as to Ralph’s +assistance in the matter of the visit that the two monks had paid to the +Tower; and asked an interpretation. + +Sir James sat quiet a minute or two, stroking his pointed grey beard +softly, and looking into the hearth. + +“God forgive me if I am wrong, my son,” he said at last, “but I wonder +whether they let the my Lord Prior go to the Tower in order to shake the +confidence of both. Do you think so, Chris?” + +Chris too was silent a moment; he knew he must not speak evil of +dignities. + +“It may be so. I know that my Lord Prior--” + +“Well, my son?” + +“My Lord Prior has been very anxious--” + +Sir James patted his son on the knee, and reassured him. + +“Prior Crowham is a very holy man, I think; but--but somewhat delicate. +However their designs have come to nothing. The bishop is in glory; and +the other more courageous than he was.” + +Chris also had a few words with Mr. Carleton before he went to bed, +sitting where he had sat in the moonlight two years before. + +“If they have done so much,” said the priest, “they will do more. When a +man has slipped over a precipice he cannot save his fall. Master More +will be the next to go; I make no doubt of that. You are to be a priest +soon, Chris?” + +“They have applied for leave,” said the monk shortly. “In two years I +shall be a priest, no doubt, if God wills.” + +“You are happy?” asked the other. + +Chris made a little gesture. + +“I do not know what that means,” he said, “but I know I have done right. +I feel nothing. God’s ways and His world are too strange.” + +The priest looked at him oddly, without speaking. + +“Well, father?” asked Chris, smiling. + +“You are right,” said the chaplain brusquely. “You have done well. You +have crossed the border.” + +Chris felt the blood surge in his temples. + +“The border?” he asked. + +“The border of dreams. They surround the Religious Life; and you have +passed through them.” + +Chris still looked at him with parted lips. This praise was sweet, after +the bitterness of his failure with Ralph. The priest seemed to know what +was passing in his mind. + +“Oh! you will fail sometimes,” he said, “but not finally. You are a +monk, my son, and a man.” + + * * * * * + +Lady Torridon retired into her impregnable silence again after her +sallies of speech on the previous evening; but as the few days went on +that Chris had been allowed to spend with his parents he was none the +less aware that her attitude towards him was one of contempt. She +showed it in a hundred ways--by not appearing to see him, by refusing to +modify her habits in the smallest particular for his convenience, by a +rigid silence on the subject that was in the hearts of both him and his +father. She performed her duties as punctually and efficiently as ever, +dealt dispassionately and justly with an old servant who had been +troublesome, and with regard to whom her husband was both afraid and +tender; but never asked for confidences or manifested the minutest +detail of her own accord. + + * * * * * + +On the fourth day after Chris’s arrival news came that Sir Thomas More +had been condemned, but it roused no more excitement than the fall of a +threatening rod. It had been known to be inevitable. And then on Chris’s +last evening at home came the last details. + + * * * * * + +Sir James and Chris had been out for a long ride up the estate, talking +but little, for each knew what was in the heart of the other; and they +were just dismounting at the terrace-steps when there was a sound of +furious galloping; and a couple of riders burst through the gateway a +hundred yards away. + +Chris felt his heart leap and hammer in his throat, but stood passively +awaiting what he knew was coming; and a few seconds later, Nicholas +Maxwell checked his horse passionately at the steps. + +“God damn them!” he cried, with a crimson quivering face. + +Sir James stepped up at once and took him by the arm. + +“Nick,” he said, and glanced at the staring grooms. + +Nicholas showed his teeth like a dog. + +“God damn them!” he said again. + +The other rider had come up by now; he was dusty and seemed spent. He +was a stranger to the father and son who waited on the steps; but he +looked like a groom, and slipped off his horse deftly and took Sir +Nicholas’s bridle. + +“Come in Nick,” said Sir James. “We can talk in the house.” + +As the three went up together, with the strange rider at a respectful +distance behind, Nicholas broke out again in one sentence. + +“They have done it,” he said, “he is dead. Mother of God!” + +His whip twitched in his clenching hand. He turned and jerked his head +beckoningly to the man who followed; and the four went on together, +through the hall and into Sir James’s parlour. Sir James shut the door. + +“Tell us, Nick.” + +Nicholas stood at the hearth, glaring and shifting. + +“This fellow knows--he saw it; tell them, Dick.” + +The man gave his account. He was one of the servants of Sir Nicholas’ +younger brother, who lived in town, and had been sent down to Great +Keynes immediately after the execution that had taken place that +morning. He was a man of tolerable education, and told his story well. + +Sir James sat as he listened, with his hand shading his eyes; Nicholas +was fidgetting at the hearth, interrupting the servant now and again +with questions and reminders; and Chris leaned in the dark corner by the +window. There floated vividly before his mind as he listened the setting +of the scene that he had looked upon a few days ago, though there were +new actors in it now. + +“It was this morning, sir, on Tower Hill. There was a great company +there long before the time. He came out bravely enough, walking with +the Lieutenant that was his friend, and with a red cross in his hand.” + +“You were close by,” put in Nicholas + +“Yes, sir; I was beside the stairs. They shook as he went up; they were +crazy steps, and he told the Lieutenant to have a care to him.” + +“The words, man, the words!” + +“I am not sure, sir; but they were after this fashion: ‘See me safe up, +Master Lieutenant; I will shift for myself at the coming down.’ So he +got up safe, and stamped once or twice merrily to see if all were firm. +Then he made a speech, sir, and begged all there to pray for him. He +told them that he was to die for the faith of the Catholic Church, as my +Lord of Rochester did.” + +“Have you heard of my lord’s head being taken to Nan Boleyn?” put in +Nicholas fiercely. + +Sir James looked up. + +“Presently, Nick,” he said. + +The man went on. + +“Master More kneeled down presently at his prayers; and all the folk +kept very quiet. There was not one that cried against him. Then he stood +up again, put off his gown, so that his neck was bare; and passed his +hand over it smiling. Then he told the headsman that it was but a short +one, and bade him be brave and strike straight, lest his good name +should suffer. Then he laid himself down to the block, and put his neck +on it; but he moved again before he gave the sign, and put his beard out +in front--for he had grown one in prison”-- + +“Give us the words,” snarled Nicholas. + +“He said, sir, that his beard had done no treason, and need not +therefore suffer as he had to do. And then he thrust out his hand for a +sign--and ’twas done at a stroke.” + +“God damn them!” hissed Nicholas again as a kind of Amen, turning +swiftly to the fire-place so that his face could not be seen. + +There was complete silence for a few seconds. The groom had his eyes +cast down, and stood there--then again he spoke. + +“As to my Lord of Rochester’s head, that was taken off to the--the +Queen, they say, in a white bag, and she struck it on the mouth.” + +Nicholas dropped his head against his hand that rested on the wood-work. + +“And the body rested naked all day on the scaffold, with the halberd-men +drinking round about; and ’twas tumbled into a hole in Barking +Churchyard that night.” + +“At whose orders?” + +“At Master Cromwell’s, sir.” + +Again there was silence; and again the groom broke it. + +“There was more said, sir--” and hesitated. + +The old man signed to him to go on. + +“They say that my lord’s head shone with light each night on the +bridge,” said the man reverently; “there was a great press there, I +know, all day, so that the streets were blocked, and none could come or +go. And so they tumbled that into the river at last; at least ’tis +supposed so--for ’twas gone when I looked.” + +Nicholas turned round; and his eyes were bright and his face fiery and +discoloured. + +Sir James stood up, and his voice was broken as he spoke. + +“Thank you, my man. You have told your story well.” + + * * * * * + +As the groom turned to go out, Sir Nicholas wheeled round swiftly to the +hearth, and buried his face on his arm; and Chris saw a great heaving +begin to shake his broad shoulders. + + + + +THE KING’S TRIUMPH--BOOK II + + + + +PART I--THE SMALLER HOUSES + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AN ACT OF FAITH + + +Towards the end of August Beatrice Atherton was walking up the north +bank of the river from Charing to Westminster to announce to Ralph her +arrival in town on the previous night. + + * * * * * + +She had gone through horrors since the June day on which she had seen +the two brothers together. With Margaret beside her she had watched +Master More in court, in his frieze gown, leaning on his stick, bent and +grey with imprisonment, had heard his clear answers, his searching +questions, and his merry conclusion after sentence had been pronounced; +she had stayed at home with the stricken family on the morning of the +sixth of July, kneeling with them at her prayers in the chapel of the +New Building, during the hours until Mr. Roper looked in grey-faced and +trembling, and they knew that all was over. She went with them to the +burial in St. Peter’s Chapel in the Tower; and last, which was the most +dreadful ordeal of all, she had stood in the summer darkness by the +wicket-gate, had heard the cautious stroke of oars, and the footsteps +coming up the path, and had let Margaret in bearing her precious burden +robbed from the spike on London Bridge. + +Then for a while she had gone down to the country with Mrs. More and +her daughters; and now she was back once more, in a kind of psychical +convalescence, at her aunt’s new house on the river-bank at Charing. + + * * * * * + +Her face was a little paler than it used to be, but there was a +quickening brightness in her eyes as she swept along in her blue mantle, +with her maid beside her, in the rear of the liveried servant, who +carried a silver-headed wand a few yards in front. + +She was rehearsing to herself the scene in which Ralph had asked her to +be his wife. + +Where Chris had left the room the two had remained perfectly still until +the street-door had closed; and then Ralph had turned to her with a +question in his steady eyes. + +She had told him then that she did not believe one word of what the monk +had insinuated; but she had been conscious even at the time that she was +making what theologians call an act of faith. It was not that there were +not difficulties to her in Ralph’s position--there were plenty--but she +had determined by a final and swift decision to disregard them and +believe in him. It was a last step in a process that continued ever +since she had become interested by this strong brusque man; and it had +been precipitated by the fanatical attack to which she had just been a +witness. The discord, as she thought it, of Ralph’s character and +actions had not been resolved; yet she had decided in that moment that +it need not be; that her data as concerned those actions were +insufficient; and that if she could not explain, at least she could +trust. + +Ralph had been very honest, she told herself now. He had reminded her +that he was a servant of Cromwell’s whom many believed to be an enemy +of Church and State. She had nodded back to him steadily and silently, +knowing what would follow from the paleness of his face, and his bright +eyes beneath their wide lids. She had felt her own breast rise and fall +and a pulse begin to hammer at the spring of her throat. Even now as she +thought of it her heart quickened, and her hands clenched themselves. + +And then in one swift moment it had come. She had found her hands caught +fiercely, and her eyes imprisoned by his; and then all was over, and she +had given him an answer in a word. + +It had not been easy even after that. Cecily had questioned her more +than once. Mrs. More had said a few indiscreet things that had been hard +to bear; her own aunt had received the news in silence. + +But that was over now. The necessary consent on both sides had been +given; and here she was once more walking up the road to Westminster +with Ralph’s image before her eyes, and Ralph himself a hundred yards +away. + + * * * * * + +She turned the last corner from the alley, passed up the little street, +and turned again across the little cobbled yard that lay before the +house. + +Mr. Morris was at the door as she came up, and he now stood aside. He +seemed doubtful. + +“Mr. Torridon has gentlemen with him, madam.” + +“Then I will wait,” said Beatrice serenely, and made a motion to come +in. The servant still half-hesitating opened the door wider; and +Beatrice and her maid went through into the little parlour on the right. + +As she passed in she heard voices from the other door. Mr. Morris’s +footsteps went down the passage. + +She had not very long to wait. There was the sound of a carriage +driving up to the door presently, and her maid who sat in view of the +window glanced out. Her face grew solemn. + +“It is Master Cromwell’s carriage,” she said. + +Beatrice was conscious of a vague discomfort; Master Cromwell, in spite +of her efforts, was the shadowed side of Ralph’s life. + +“Is he coming in?” she said. + +The maid peeped again. + +“No, madam.” + +The door of the room they were in was not quite shut, and there was +still a faint murmur of voices from across the hall; but almost +immediately there was the sound of a lifted latch, and then Ralph’s +voice clear and distinct. + +“I will see to it, my lord.” + +Beatrice stood up, feeling a little uneasy. She fancied that perhaps she +ought not to be here; she remembered now the servant’s slight air of +unwillingness to let her in. There was a footfall in the hall, and the +sound of talking; and as Mr. Morris’s hasty step came up the passage, +the door was pushed abruptly open, and Ralph was looking into the room, +with one or two others beyond him. + +“I did not know,” he began, and flushed a little, smiling and making as +if to close the door. But Cromwell’s face, with its long upper lip and +close-set grey eyes, appeared over his shoulder, and Ralph turned round, +almost deprecatingly. + +“I beg your pardon, sir; this is Mistress Atherton, and her woman.” + +Cromwell came forward into the room, with a kind of keen smile, in his +rich dress and chain. + +“Mistress Beatrice Atherton?” he said with a questioning deference; and +Ralph introduced them to one another. Beatrice was conscious of a good +deal of awkwardness. It was uncomfortable to be caught here, as if she +had come to spy out something. She felt herself flushing as she +explained that she had had no idea who was there. + +Cromwell looked at her very pleasantly. + +“There is nothing to ask pardon for, Mistress,” he said. “I knew you +were a friend of Mr. Torridon. He has told me everything.” + +Ralph seemed strangely ill-at-ease, Beatrice thought, as Cromwell +congratulated them both with a very kindly air, and then turned towards +the hall again. + +“My lord,” he called, “my lord--” + +Then Beatrice saw a tall ecclesiastic, clean-shaven, with a strangely +insignificant but kindly face, with square drooping lip and narrow hazel +eyes, come forward in his prelate’s dress; and at the sight of him her +eyes grew hard and her lips tight. + +“My lord,” said Cromwell, “this is Mistress Beatrice Torridon.” + +The prelate put out his hand, smiling faintly, with the ring uppermost +to be kissed. Beatrice stood perfectly still. She could see Ralph at an +angle looking at her imploringly. + +“You know my Lord of Canterbury,” said Cromwell, in an explanatory +voice. + +“I know my Lord of Canterbury,” said Beatrice. + +There was a dead silence for a moment, and then a faint whimper from the +maid. + +Cranmer dropped his hand, but still smiled, turning to Ralph. + +“We must be gone, Mr. Torridon. Master Cromwell has very kindly--” + +Cromwell, who had stood amazed for a moment, turned round at his name. + +“Yes,” he said to Ralph, “my lord is to come with me. And you will be +at my house to-morrow.” + +He said good-day to the girl, looking at her with an amused interest +that made her flush; and as Dr. Cranmer passed out of the street-door to +the carriage with Ralph bare-headed beside him, he spoke very softly. + +“You are like the others, mistress,” he said; and shook his heavy head +at her like an indulgent father. Then he too turned and went out. + + * * * * * + +Beatrice went across at once to the other room, leaving her maid behind, +and stood by the hearth as Ralph came in. She heard the door close and +his footstep come across the floor beside her. + +“Beatrice,” said Ralph. + +She turned round and looked at him. + +“You must not scold me,” she said with great serenity. “You must leave +me my conscience.” Ralph’s face cleared instantly. + +“No, no,” he said. “I feared it would be the other way.” + +“A married priest, they say!” remarked the girl, but without bitterness. + +“I daresay, my darling,--but--but I have more tenderness for marriage +than I had.” + +Beatrice’s black eyes just flickered with amusement. + +“Yes; but priests!” she said. + +“Yes--even priests--” said Ralph, smiling back. + +Beatrice turned to a chair and sat down. + +“I suppose I must not ask any questions,” she said, glancing up for a +moment at Ralph’s steady eyes. She thought he looked a little uneasy +still. + +“Oh! I scarcely know,” said Ralph; and he took a turn across the room +and came back. She waited, knowing that she had already put her +question, and secretly pleased that he knew it, and was perplexed by it. + +“I scarcely know,” he said again, standing opposite her. +“Well,--yes--all will know it soon.” + +“Oh! I can wait till then,” said Beatrice quickly, not sure whether she +were annoyed or not by being told a secret of such a common nature. +Ralph glanced at her, not sure either. + +“I am afraid--” he began. + +“No--no,” she said, ashamed of her doubt. “I do not wish to know; I can +wait.” + +“I will tell you,” said Ralph. He went and sat down in the chair +opposite, crossing his legs. + +“It is about the Visitation of the Religious Houses. I am to go with the +Visitors in September.” + +Beatrice felt a sudden and rather distressed interest; but she showed no +sign of it. + +“Ah, yes!” she said softly, “and what will be your work?” + +Ralph was reassured by her tone. + +“We are to go to the southern province. I am with Dr. Layton’s party. We +shall make enquiries of the state of Religion, how it is observed and so +forth; and report to Master Cromwell.” + +Beatrice looked down in a slightly side-long way. + +“I know what you are thinking,” said Ralph, his tone a mixture of +amusement and pride. She looked up silently. + +“Yes I knew it was so,” he went on, smiling straight at her. “You are +wondering what in the world I know about Religious Houses. But I have a +brother--” + +A shadow went over her face; Ralph saw she did not like the allusion. + +“Besides,” he went on again, “they need intelligent men, not +ecclesiastics, for this business.” + +“But Dr. Layton?” questioned Beatrice. + +“Well, you might call him an ecclesiastic; but you would scarcely guess +it from himself. And no man could call him a partisan on that side.” + +“He would do better in one of his rectories, I should think,” said +Beatrice. + +“Well, that is not my business,” observed Ralph. + +“And what is your business?” + +“Well, to ride round the country; examine the Religious, and make +enquiries of the country folk.” + +Beatrice began to tap her foot very softly. Ralph glanced down at the +bright buckle and smiled in spite of himself. + +The girl went on. + +“And by whose authority?” + +“By his Grace’s authority.” + +“And Dr. Cranmer’s?” + +“Well, yes; so far as he has any.” + +“I see,” said Beatrice; and cast her eyes down again. + +There was silence for a moment or two. + +“You see too that I cannot withdraw,” explained Ralph, a little +distressed at her air. “It is part of my duty.” + +“Oh! I understand that,” said Beatrice. + +“And so long as I act justly, there is no harm done.” + +The girl was silent. + +“You understand that?” he asked. + +“I suppose I do,” said Beatrice slowly. + +Ralph made a slight impatient movement. + +“No--wait,” said the girl, “I do understand. If I cannot trust you, I +had better never have known you. I do understand that I can trust you; +though I cannot understand how you can do such work.” + +She raised her eyes slowly to his; and Ralph as he looked into them saw +that she was perfectly sincere, and speaking without bitterness. + +“Sweetheart,” he said. “I could not have taken that from any but you; +but I know that you are true, and mean no more nor less than your words. +You do trust me?” + +“Why, yes,” said the girl; and smiled at him as he took her in his arms. + + * * * * * + +When she had gone again Ralph had a difficult quarter of an hour. + +He knew that she trusted him, but was it not simply because she did not +know? He sat and pondered the talk he had had with Cromwell and the +Archbishop. Neither had expressly said that what was wanted was adverse +testimony against the Religious Houses; but that, Ralph knew very well, +was what was asked of him. They had talked a great deal about the +corruptions that the Visitors would no doubt find, and Cranmer had told +a story or two, with an appearance of great distress, of scandalous +cases that had come under his own notice. Cromwell too had pointed out +that such corruptions did incalculable evil; and that an immoral monk +did far more harm in a countryside than his holy brethren could do of +good. Both had said a word too about the luxury and riches to be found +in the houses of those who professed poverty, and of the injury done to +Christ’s holy religion by such insincere pretences. + +Ralph knew too, from previous meetings with the other Visitors, the kind +of work for which such men would be likely to be selected. + +There was Dr. Richard Layton first, whom Ralph was to join in Sussex at +the end of September, a priest who had two or three preferments and +notoriously neglected them; Ralph had taken a serious dislike to him. He +was a coarse man who knew how to cringe effectively; and Ralph had +listened to him talking to Cromwell, with some dismay. But he would be +to a large extent independent of him, and only in his company at some of +the larger houses that needed more than one Visitor. Thomas Legh, too, a +young doctor of civil law, was scarcely more attractive. He was a man of +an extraordinary arrogance, carrying his head high, and looking about +him with insolently drooping eyes. Ralph had been at once amused and +angry to see him go out into the street after his interview with +Cromwell, where his horse and half-a-dozen footmen awaited him, and to +watch him ride off with the airs of a vulgar prince. The Welshman Ap +Rice too, and the red-faced bully, Dr. London, were hardly persons whom +he desired as associates, and the others were not much better; and Ralph +found himself feeling a little thankful that none of these men had been +in his house just now, when Cromwell and the Archbishop had called in +the former’s carriage, and when Beatrice had met them there. + + * * * * * + +Ralph had a moment, ten minutes after Beatrice had left, when he was +inclined to snatch up his hat and go after Cromwell to tell him to do +his own dirty work; but his training had told, and he had laughed at the +folly of the thought. Why, of course, the work had to be done! England +was rotten with dreams and superstition. Ecclesiasticism had corrupted +genuine human life, and national sanity could not be restored except by +a violent process. Innocent persons would no doubt suffer--innocent +according to conscience, but guilty against the commonwealth. Every +great movement towards good was bound to be attended by individual +catastrophes; but it was the part of a strong man to carry out +principles and despise details. + +The work had to be done; it was better then that there should be at +least one respectable workman. Of course such a work needed coarse men +to carry it out; it was bound to be accompanied by some brutality; and +his own presence there might do something to keep the brutality within +limits. + + * * * * * + +And as for Beatrice--well, Beatrice did not yet understand. If she +understood all as he did, she would sympathise, for she was strong too. +Besides--he had held her in his arms just now, and he knew that love was +king. + +But he sat for ten minutes more in silence, staring with unseeing eyes +at the huddled roofs opposite and the clear sky over them; and the point +of the quill in his fingers was split and cracked when Mr. Morris looked +in to see if his master wanted anything. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE BEGINNING OF THE VISITATION + + +It was on a wet foggy morning in October that Ralph set out with Mr. +Morris and a couple more servants to join Dr. Layton in the Sussex +visitation. He rode alone in front; and considered as he went. + + * * * * * + +The Visitation itself, Cromwell had told him almost explicitly, was in +pursuance of the King’s policy to get the Religious Houses, which were +considered to be the strongholds of the papal power in England, under +the authority of the Crown; and also to obtain from them reinforcements +of the royal funds which were running sorely low. The crops were most +disappointing this year, and the King’s tenants were wholly unable to +pay their rents; and it had been thought wiser to make up the deficit +from ecclesiastical wealth rather than to exasperate the Commons by a +direct call upon their resources. + +So far, he knew very well, the attempt to get the Religious Houses into +the King’s power had only partially succeeded. Bishop Fisher’s influence +had availed to stave off the fulfilment of the royal intentions up to +the present; and the oath of supremacy, in which to a large extent the +key of the situation lay, had been by no means universally accepted. +Now, however, the scheme was to be pushed forward; and as a preparation +for it, it was proposed to visit every monastery and convent in the +kingdom, and to render account first of the temporal wealth of each, +and then of the submissiveness of its inmates; and, as Cromwell had +hinted to Ralph, anything that could damage the character of the +Religious would not be unacceptable evidence. + +Ralph was aware that the scheme in which he was engaged was supported in +two ways; first, by the suspension of episcopal authority during the +course of the visitation, and secondly by the vast powers committed to +the visitors. In one of the saddle-bags strapped on to Mr. Morris’s +horse was a sheaf of papers, containing eighty-six articles of enquiry, +and twenty-five injunctions, as well as certificates from the King +endowing Ralph with what was practically papal jurisdiction. He was +authorised to release from their vows all Religious who desired it, and +ordered to dismiss all who had been professed under twenty years of age, +or who were at the present date under twenty-four years old. Besides +this he was commissioned to enforce the enclosure with the utmost +rigour, to set porters at the doors to see that it was observed, and to +encourage all who had any grievance against their superiors to forward +complaints through himself to Cromwell. + +Ralph understood well enough the first object of these regulations, +namely to make monastic life impossible. It was pretty evident that a +rigorous confinement would breed discontent; which in its turn would be +bound to escape through the vent-hole which the power of appeal +provided; thus bringing about a state of anarchy within the house, and +the tightening of the hold of the civil authority upon the Religious. + +Lastly the Visitors were authorised to seize any church furniture or +jewels that they might judge would be better in secular custody. + +Once more, he had learned both from Cromwell, and from his own +experience at Paul’s Cross, how the laity itself was being carefully +prepared for the blow that was impending, by an army of selected +preachers who could be trusted to say what they were told. Only a few +days before Ralph had halted his horse at the outskirts of a huge crowd +gathered round Paul’s Cross, and had listened to a torrent of +vituperation poured out by a famous orator against the mendicant friars; +and from the faces and exclamations of the people round him he had +learned once more that greed was awake in England. + + * * * * * + +It was a somewhat dismal ride that he had this day. The sky was heavy +and overcast, it rained constantly, and the roads were in a more dreary +condition even than usual. He splashed along through the mud with his +servants behind him, wrapped in his cloak; and his own thoughts were not +of a sufficient cheerfulness to compensate for the external discomforts. +His political plane of thought was shot by a personal idea. He guessed +that he would have to commit himself in a manner that he had never done +before; and was not wholly confident that he would be able to explain +matters satisfactorily to Beatrice. Besides, the particular district to +which he was appointed included first Lewes, where Chris would have an +eye on his doings, and secondly the little Benedictine house of Rusper, +where his sister Margaret had been lately professed; and he wondered +what exactly would be his relation with his own family when his work was +done. + +But for the main object of his visitation he had little but sympathy. It +was good, he thought, that a scouring should be made of these idle +houses, and their inmates made more profitable to the commonwealth. And +lastly, whether or no he sympathised, it would be fatal to his career +to refuse the work offered to him. + +As he did not feel very confident at first, he had arranged to meet with +Dr. Layton’s party at the Premonstratension Abbey of Durford, situated +at the borders of Sussex and Hampshire, and there learn the exact +methods to be employed in the visitation; but it was a long ride, and he +took two days over it, sleeping on the way at Waverly in the Cistercian +House. This had not yet been visited, as Dr. Layton was riding up +gradually from the west country, but the rumour of his intentions had +already reached there, and Ralph was received with a pathetic deference +as one of the representatives of the Royal Commission. + +The Abbot was a kindly nervous man, and welcomed Ralph with every sign +of respect at the gate of the abbey, giving contradictory orders about +the horses and the entertainment of the guests to his servants who +seemed in very little awe of him. + +After mass and breakfast on the following morning the Abbot came into +the guest-house and begged for a short interview. + + * * * * * + +He apologised first for the poorness of the entertainment, saying that +he had done his best. Ralph answered courteously; and the other went on +immediately, standing deferentially before the chair where Ralph was +seated, and fingering his cross. + +“I hope, Mr. Torridon, that it will be you who will visit us; you have +found us all unprepared, and you know that we are doing our best to keep +our Rule. I hope you found nothing that was not to your liking.” + +Ralph bowed and smiled. + +“I would sooner that it were you,” went on the Abbot, “and not another +that visited us. Dr. Layton--” + +He stopped abruptly, embarrassed. + +“You have heard something of him?” questioned Ralph. + +“I know nothing against him,” said the other hastily, “except that they +say that he is sharp with us poor monks. I fear he would find a great +deal here not to his taste. My authority has been so much weakened of +late; I have some discontented brethren--not more than one or two, Mr. +Torridon--and they have learned that they will be able to appeal now to +the King’s Grace, and get themselves set free; and they have ruined the +discipline of the house. I do not wish to hide anything, sir, you see; +but I am terribly afraid that Dr. Layton may be displeased.” + +“I am very sorry, my lord,” said Ralph, “but I fear I shall not be +coming here again.” + +The Abbot’s face fell. + +“But you will speak for us, sir, to Dr. Layton? I heard you say you +would be seeing him to-night.” + +Ralph promised to do his best, and was overwhelmed with thanks. + +He could not help realising some of the pathos of the situation as he +rode on through the rain to Durford. It was plain that a wave of terror +and apprehensiveness was running through the Religious Houses, and that +it brought with it inevitable disorder. Lives that would have been +serene and contented under other circumstances were thrown off their +balance by the rumours of disturbance, and authority was weakened. If +the Rule was hard of observance in tranquil times, it was infinitely +harder when doors of escape presented themselves on all sides. + +And yet he was impatient too. Passive or wavering characters irritated +his own strong temperament, and he felt a kind of anger against the +Abbot and his feeble appeal. Surely men who had nothing else to do might +manage to keep their own subjects in order, and a weak crying for pity +was in itself an argument against their competence. And meanwhile, if he +had known it, he would have been still more incensed, for as he rode on +down towards the south west, the Abbot and his monks in the house he had +left were prostrate before the high altar in the dark church, each in +his stall, praying for mercy. + +“O God, the heathens are come into thine inheritance,” they murmured, +“they have defiled thy holy temple.” + + * * * * * + +It was not until the sun was going down in the stormy west that Ralph +rode up to Durford abbey. The rain had ceased an hour before sunset, and +the wet roofs shone in the evening light. + +There were certain signs of stir as he came up. One or two idlers were +standing outside the gate-house; the door was wide open, and a couple of +horses were being led away round the corner. + +Inside the court as he rode through he saw further signs of confusion. +Half a dozen packhorses were waiting with hanging heads outside the +stable door, and an agitated lay brother was explaining to a canon in +his white habit, rochet and cap, that there was no more room. He threw +out his hands with a gesture of despair towards Ralph as he came in. + +“Mother of God!” he said, “here is another of them.” + +The priest frowned at him, and hurried up to Ralph. + +“Yes, father,” said Ralph, “I am another of them.” + +The canon explained that the stable was full, that they were +exceedingly sorry, but that they were but a poor house; and that he was +glad to say there was an outhouse round the corner outside where the +beasts could be lodged. + +“But as for yourself, sir,” he said, “I know not what to do. We have +every room full. You are a friend of Dr. Layton’s, sir?” + +“I am one of the Visitors,” said Ralph. “You must make room.” + +The priest sucked his lips in. + +“I see nothing for it,” he said, “Dr. Layton and you, sir, must share a +room.” + +Ralph threw a leg over the saddle and slipped to the ground. + +“Where is he?” he asked. + +“He is with my Lord Abbot, sir,” he said. “Will you come with me?” + +The canon led the way across the court, his white fur tails swinging as +he went, and took Ralph through the cloister into one of the parlours. +There was a sound of a high scolding voice as he threw open the door. + +“What in God’s name are ye for then, if ye have not hospitality?” + +Dr. Layton turned round as Ralph came in. He was flushed with passion; +his mouth worked, and his eyes were brutal. + +“See this, Mr. Torridon,” he said. “There is neither room for man or +beast in this damned abbey. The guest house has no more than half a +dozen rooms, and the stable--why, it is not fit for pigs, let alone the +horses of the King’s Visitors.” + +The Abbot, a young man with a delicate face, very pale now and +trembling, broke in deprecatingly. + +“I am very sorry, gentlemen,” he said, looking from one to the other, +“but it is not my fault. It is in better repair than when I came to it. +I have done my best with my Lord Abbot of Welbeck; but we are very poor, +and he can give me no more.” + +Layton growled at him. + +“I don’t say it’s you, man; we shall know better when we have looked +into your accounts; but I’ll have a word to say at Welbeck.” + +“We are to share a room, Dr. Layton,” put in Ralph. “At least--” + +The doctor turned round again at that, and stormed once more. + +“I cannot help it, gentlemen,” retorted the Abbot desperately. “I have +given up my own chamber already. I can but do my best.” + +Ralph hastened to interpose. His mind revolted at this coarse bullying, +in spite of his contempt at this patient tolerance on the part of the +Abbot. + +“I shall do very well, my Lord Abbot,” he said. “I shall give no +trouble. You may put me where you please.” + +The young prelate looked at him gratefully. + +“We will do our best, sir,” he said. “Will you come, gentlemen, and see +your chambers?” + +Layton explained to Ralph as they went along the poor little cloister +that he himself had only arrived an hour before. + +“I had a rare time among the monks,” he whispered, “and have some tales +to make you laugh.” + + * * * * * + +He grew impatient again presently at the poor furnishing of the rooms, +and kicked over a broken chair. + +“I will have something better than that,” he said. “Get me one from the +church.” + +The young Abbot faced him. + +“What do you want of us, Dr. Layton? Is it riches or poverty? Which +think you that Religious ought to have?” + +The priest gave a bark of laughter. + +“You have me there, my lord,” he said; and nudged Ralph. + +They sat down to supper presently in the parlour downstairs, a couple of +dishes of meat, and a bottle of Spanish wine. Dr. Layton grew voluble. + +“I have a deal to tell you, Mr. Torridon,” he said, “and not a few +things to show you,--silver crosses and such like; but those we will +look at to-morrow. I doubt whether we shall add much to it here, though +there is a relic-case that would look well on Master Cromwell’s table; +it is all set with agates. But the tales you shall have now. My servant +will be here directly with the papers.” + +A man came in presently with a bag of documents, and Layton seized them +eagerly. + +“See here, Mr. Torridon,” he said, shaking the papers on to the table, +“here is a story-box for the ladies. Draw your chair to the fire.” + +Ralph felt an increasing repugnance for the man; but he said nothing; +and brought up his seat to the wide hearth on which the logs burned +pleasantly in the cold little room. + +The priest lifted the bundle on to his lap, crossed his legs +comfortably, with a glass of wine at his elbow, and began to read. + + * * * * * + +For a while Ralph wondered how the man could have the effrontery to call +his notes by the name of evidence. They consisted of a string of obscene +guesses, founded upon circumstances that were certainly compatible with +guilt, but no less compatible with innocence. There was a quantity of +gossip gathered from country-people and coloured by the most flagrant +animus, and even so the witnesses did not agree. Such sentences as “It +is reported in the country round that the prior is a lewd man” were +frequent in the course of the reading, and were often the chief evidence +offered in a case. + +In one of the most categorical stories, Ralph leaned forward and +interrupted. + +“Forgive me, Master Layton,” he said, “but who is Master What’s-his-name +who says all this?” + +The priest waved the paper in the air. + +“A monk himself,” he said, “a monk himself! That is the cream of it.” + +“A monk!” exclaimed Ralph. + +“He was one till last year,” explained the priest. + +“And then?” said the other. + +“He was expelled the monastery. He knew too much, you see.” + +Ralph leaned back. + + * * * * * + +Half an hour later there was a change in his attitude: his doubts were +almost gone; the flood of detail was too vast to be dismissed as wholly +irrelevant; his imagination was affected by the evidence from without +and his will from within, and he listened without hostility, telling +himself that he desired only truth and justice. + +There were at least half a dozen stories in the mass of filthy suspicion +that the priest exultingly poured out which appeared convincing; +particularly one about which Ralph put a number of questions. + +In this there was first a quantity of vague evidence gathered from the +country-folk, who were, unless Layton lied quite unrestrainedly, +convinced of the immoral life of a certain monk. The report of his sin +had penetrated ten miles from the house where he lived. There was +besides definite testimony from one of his fellows, precise and +detailed; and there was lastly a half admission from the culprit +himself. All this was worked up with great skill--suggestive epithets +were plastered over the weak spots in the evidence; clever theories put +forward to account for certain incompatibilities; and to Ralph at least +it was convincing. + +He found himself growing hot with anger at the thought of the hypocrisy +of this monk’s life. Here the fellow had been living in gross sin month +after month, and all the while standing at the altar morning by morning, +and going about in the habit of a professed servant of Jesus Christ! + +“But I have kept the cream till the last,” put in Dr. Layton. And he +read out a few more hideous sentences, that set Ralph’s heart heaving +with disgust. + +He began now to feel the beginnings of that fury against white-washed +vice with which worldly souls are so quick to burn. He would have said +that he himself professed no holiness beyond the average, and would have +acknowledged privately at least that he was at any rate uncertain of the +whole dogmatic scheme of religion; but that he could not tolerate a man +whose whole life was on the outside confessedly devoted to both sides of +religion, faith and morals, and who claimed the world’s reverence for +himself on the score of it. He knit his forehead in a righteous fury, +and his fingers began to drum softly on his chair-arms. + +Dr. Layton now began to recur to some of the first stories he had told, +and to build up their weak places; and now that Ralph was roused his +critical faculty subsided. They appeared more convincing than before in +the light of this later evidence. _Ex pede Herculem_--from the fellow +who had confessed he interpreted the guilt of those who had not. The +seed of suspicion sprang quickly in the soil that hungered for it. + +This then was the fair religious system that was dispersed over England; +and this the interior life of those holy looking roofs and buildings +surmounted by the sign of the Crucified, visible in every town to point +men to God. When he saw a serene monk’s face again he would know what +kind of soul it covered; he would understand as never before how vice +could wear a mask of virtue. + +The whole of that flimsy evidence that he had heard before took a new +colour; those hints and suspicions and guesses grew from shadow to +substance. Those dark spots were not casual filth dropped from above, +they were the symptoms of a deep internal infection. + +As Dr. Layton went on with his tales, gathered and garnered with +devilish adroitness, and presented as convincingly as a clever brain +could do it, the black certainty fell deeper and deeper on Ralph’s soul, +and by the time that the priest chuckled for the last time that evening, +and gathered up his papers from the boards where they had fallen one by +one, he had done his work in another soul. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A HOUSE OF LADIES + + +They parted the next day, Dr. Layton to Waverly, where he proposed to +sleep on Saturday night, and Ralph to the convent at Rusper. + +He had learnt now how the work was to be done; and he had been equipped +for it in a way that not even Dr. Layton himself suspected; for he had +been set aflame with that filth-fed fire with which so many hearts were +burning at this time. He had all the saint’s passion for purity, without +the charity of his holiness. + +He had learnt too the technical details of his work--those rough methods +by which men might be coerced, and the high-sounding phrases with which +to gild the coercion. All that morning he had sat side by side with Dr. +Layton in the chapter-house, inspecting the books, comparing the +possessions of the monastery with the inventories of them, examining +witnesses as to the credibility of the lists offered, and making +searching enquiries as to whether any land or plate had been sold. After +that, when a silver relic-case had been added to Dr. Layton’s +collection, the Religious and servants and all else who cared to offer +evidence on other matters, were questioned one by one and their answers +entered in a book. Lastly, when the fees for the Visitation had been +collected, arrangements had been made, which in the Visitors’ opinion, +would be most serviceable to the carrying out of the injunctions; fresh +officials were appointed to various posts, and the Abbot himself +ordered to go up to London and present himself to Master Cromwell; but +he was furnished with a letter commending his zeal and discretion, for +the Visitors had found that he had done his duty to the buildings and +lands; and stated that they had nothing to complain of except the +poverty of the house. + +“And so much for Durford,” said Layton genially, as he closed the last +book just before dinner-time, “though it had been better called +Dirtyford.” And he chuckled at his humour. + +After dinner he had gone out with Ralph to see him mount; had thanked +him for his assistance, and had reminded him that they would meet again +at Lewes in the course of a month or so. + +“God speed you!” he cried as the party rode off. + + * * * * * + +Ralph’s fury had died to a glow, but it was red within him; the reading +last night had done its work well, driven home by the shrewd conviction +of a man of the world, experienced in the ways of vice. It had not died +with the dark. He could not say that he was attracted to Dr. Layton; the +priest’s shocking familiarity with the more revolting forms of sin, as +well as his under-breeding and brutality, made him a disagreeable +character; but Ralph had very little doubt now that his judgment on the +religious houses was a right one. Even the nunneries, it seemed, were +not free from taint; there had been one or two terrible tales on the +previous evening; and Ralph was determined to spare them nothing, and at +any rate to remove his sister from their power. He remembered with +satisfaction that she was below the age specified, and that he would +have authority to dismiss her from the home. + +He knew very little of Margaret; and had scarcely seen her once in two +years. He had been already out in the world before she had ceased to be +a child, and from what little he had seen of her he had thought of her +but as little more than a milk-and-water creature, very delicate and +shy, always at her prayers, or trailing about after nuns with a pale +radiant face. She had been sent to Rusper for her education, and he +never saw her except now and then when they chanced to be at home +together for a few days. She used to look at him, he remembered, with +awe-stricken eyes and parted lips, hardly daring to speak when he was in +the room, continually to be met with going from or to the tall quiet +chapel. + +He had always supposed that she would be a nun, and had acquiesced in it +in a cynical sort of way; but he was going to acquiesce no longer now. +Of course she would sob, but equally of course she would not dare to +resist. + +He called Morris up to him presently as they emerged from one of the +bridle paths on to a kind of lane where two could ride abreast. The +servant had seemed oddly silent that morning. + +“We are going to Rusper,” said Ralph. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Mistress Margaret is there.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“She will come away with us. I may have to send you on to Overfield with +her. You must find a horse for her somehow.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +There was silence between the two for a minute or two. Mr. Morris had +answered with as much composure as if he had been told to brush a coat. +Ralph began to wonder what he really felt. + +“What do you think of all this, Morris?” he asked in a moment or two. + +The servant was silent, till Ralph glanced at him impatiently. + +“It is not for me to have an opinion, sir,” said Mr. Morris. + +Ralph gave a very short laugh. + +“You haven’t heard what I have,” he said, “or you would soon have an +opinion.” + +“Yes, sir,” said Morris as impassively as before. + +“I tell you--” and then Ralph broke off, and rode on silent and moody. +Mr. Morris gradually let his horse fall back behind his master. + + * * * * * + +They began to come towards Rusper as the evening drew in, by a bridle +path that led from the west, and on arriving at the village found that +they had overshot their mark, and ought to have turned sooner. The +nunnery, a man told them, was a mile away to the south-west. Ralph made +a few enquiries, and learnt that it was a smallish house, and that it +was scarcely likely that room could be found for his party of four; so +he left Morris to make enquiries for lodgings in the village, and +himself rode on alone to the nunnery, past the church and the +timberhouses. + +It was a bad road, and his tired horse had to pick his way very slowly, +so that it was nearly dark before he came to his destination, and the +pointed roofs rose before him against the faintly luminous western sky. +There were lights in one or two windows as he came up that looked warm +and homely in the chill darkness; and as he sat on his horse listening +to the jangle of the bell within, just a breath of doubtfulness touched +his heart for a moment as he thought of the peaceful home-life that lay +packed within those walls, and of the errand on which he had come. + +But the memory of the tales he had heard, haunted him still; and he +spoke in a harsh voice as the shutter slid back, and a little +criss-crossed square of light appeared in the black doorway. + +“I am one of the King’s Visitors,” he said. “Let my Lady Abbess know I +am here. I must speak with her.” + +There was a stifled sound behind the grating; and Ralph caught a glimpse +of a pair of eyes looking at him. Then the square grew dark again. It +was a minute or two before anything further happened, and Ralph as he +sat cold and hungry on his horse, began to grow impatient. His hand was +on the twisted iron handle to ring again fiercely, when there was a step +within, and a light once more shone out. + +“Who is it?” said an old woman’s voice, with a note of anxiety in it. + +“I have sent word in,” said Ralph peevishly, “that I am one of the +King’s Visitors. I should be obliged if I might not be kept here all +night.” + +There was a moment’s silence; the horse sighed sonorously. + +“How am I to know, sir?” said the voice again. + +“Because I tell you so,” snapped Ralph. “And if more is wanted, my name +is Torridon. You have a sister of mine in there.” + +There was an exclamation from within; and the sound of whispering; and +then hasty footsteps went softly across the paved court inside. + +The voice spoke again. + +“I ask your pardon, sir; but have you any paper--or--” + +Ralph snatched out a document of identification, and leaned forward +from his horse to pass it through the opening. He felt trembling fingers +take it from him; and a moment later heard returning footsteps. + +There was a rustle of paper, and then a whisper within. + +“Well, my dear?” + +Something shifted in the bright square, and it grew gloomy as a face +pressed up against the bars. Then again it shifted and the light shone +out, and a flutter of whispers followed. + +“Really, madam--” began Ralph; but there was the jingle of keys, and the +sound of panting, and almost immediately a bolt shot back, followed by +the noise of a key turning. A chorus of whispers broke out and a scurry +of footsteps, and then the door opened inwards and a little old woman +stood there in a black habit, her face swathed in white above and below. +The others had vanished. + +“I am very sorry, Mr. Torridon, to have kept you at the door; but we +have to be very careful. Will you bring your horse in, sir?” + +Ralph was a little abashed by the sudden development of the situation, +and explained that he had only come to announce his arrival; he had +supposed that there would not be room at the nunnery. + +“But we have a little guest-house here,” announced the old lady with a +dignified air, “and room for your horse.” + +Ralph hesitated; but he was tired and hungry. + +“Come in, Mr. Torridon. You had better dismount and lead your horse in. +Sister Anne will see to it.” + +“Well, if you are sure--” began Ralph again, slipping a foot out of the +stirrup. + +“I am sure,” said the Abbess; and stood aside for him and his beast to +pass. + +There was a little court, lighted by a single lamp burning within a +window, with the nunnery itself on one side, and a small cottage on the +other. Beyond the latter rose the roofs of an outhouse. + +As Ralph came in, the door from the nunnery opened again, and a lay +sister came out hastily; she moved straight across and took the horse by +the bridle. + +“Give him a good meal, sister,” said the Abbess; and went past Ralph to +the door of the guest-house. + +“Come in, Mr. Torridon; there will be lights immediately.” + + * * * * * + +In half an hour Ralph found himself at supper in the guest-parlour; a +bright fire crackled on the hearth, a couple of candles burned on the +table, and a pair of old darned green curtains hung across the low +window. + +The Abbess came in when he had finished, dismissed the lay-sister who +had waited on him, and sat down herself. + +“You shall see your sister to-morrow, Mr. Torridon,” she said, “it is a +little late now. I have sent the boy up to the village for your servant; +he can sleep in this room if you wish. I fear we have no room for more.” + +Ralph watched her as she talked. She was very old, with hanging cheeks, +and solemn little short-sighted eyes, for she peered at him now and +again across the candles. Her upper lip was covered with a slight growth +of dark hair. She seemed strangely harmless; and Ralph had another prick +of compunction as he thought of the news he had to give her on the +morrow. He wondered how much she knew. + +“We are so glad it is you, Mr. Torridon, that have come to visit us. We +feared it might be Dr. Layton; we have heard sad stories of him.” + +Ralph hardened his heart. + +“He has only done his duty, Reverend Mother,” he said. + +“Oh! but you cannot have heard,” exclaimed the old lady. “He has robbed +several of our houses we hear--even the altar itself. And he has turned +away some of our nuns.” + +Ralph was silent; he thought he would at least leave the old lady in +peace for this last night. She seemed to want no answer; but went on +expatiating on the horrors that were happening round them, the wicked +accusations brought against the Religious, and the Divine vengeance that +would surely fall on those who were responsible. + +Finally she turned and questioned him, with a mingling of deference and +dignity. + +“What do you wish from us, Mr. Torridon? You must tell me, that I may +see that everything is in order.” + +Ralph was secretly amused by her air of innocent assurance. + +“That is my business, Reverend Mother. I must ask for all the books of +the house, with the account of any sales you may have effected, properly +recorded. I must have a list of the inmates of the house, with a +statement of any corrodies attached; and the names and ages and dates of +profession of all the Religious.” + +The Abbess blinked for a moment. + +“Yes, Mr. Torridon. You will allow me of course to see all your papers +to-morrow; it is necessary for me to be certified that all your part is +in order.” + +Ralph smiled a little grimly. + +“You shall see all that,” he said. “And then there is more that I must +ask; but that will do for a beginning. When I have shown you my papers +you will see what it is that I want.” + +There was a peal at the bell outside; the Abbess turned her head and +waited till there was a noise of bolts and unlocking. + +“That will be your man, sir. Will you have him in now, Mr. Torridon?” + +Ralph assented. + +“And then he must look at the horses to see that all is as you wish.” + +Mr. Morris came in a moment later, and bowed with great deference to the +little old lady, who enquired his name. + +“When you have finished with your man, Mr. Torridon, perhaps you will +allow him to ring for me at the door opposite. I will go with him to see +the horses.” + +Mr. Morris had brought with him the mass of his master’s papers, and +when he had set these out and prepared the bedroom that opened out of +the guest-parlour, he asked leave to go across and fetch the Abbess. + +Ralph busied himself for half-an-hour or so in running over the Articles +and Injunctions once more, and satisfying himself that he was perfect in +his business; and he was just beginning to wonder why his servant had +not reappeared when the door opened once more, and Mr. Morris slipped +in. + +“My horse is a little lame, sir,” he said. “I have been putting on a +poultice.” + +Ralph glanced up. + +“He will be fit to travel, I suppose?” + +“In a day or two, Mr. Ralph.” + +“Well; that will do. We shall be here till Monday at least.” + + * * * * * + +Ralph could not sleep very well that night. The thought of his business +troubled him a little. It would have been easier if the Abbess had been +either more submissive or more defiant; but her air of mingled courtesy +and dignity affected him. Her innocence too had something touching in +it, and her apparent ignorance of what his visit meant. He had supped +excellently at her expense, waited on by a cheerful sister, and well +served from the kitchen and cellar; and the Reverend Mother herself had +come in and talked sensibly and bravely. He pictured to himself what +life must be like through the nunnery wall opposite--how brisk and +punctual it must be, and at the same time homely and caressing. + +And it was his hand that was to pull down the first prop. There would no +doubt be three or four nuns below age who must be dismissed, and +probably there would be a few treasures to be carried off, a +processional crucifix perhaps, such as he had seen in Dr. Layton’s +collection, and a rich chalice or two, used on great days. His own +sister too must be one of those who must go. How would the little old +Abbess behave herself then? What would she say? Yet he comforted +himself, as he lay there in the clean, low-ceilinged room, staring at +the tiny crockery stoup gleaming against the door-post, by recollecting +the principle on which he had come. Possibly a few innocents would have +to suffer, a few old hearts be broken; but it was for a man to take such +things in his day’s work. + +And then as he remembered Dr. Layton’s tales, his heart grew hot and +hard again. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AN UNEXPECTED MEETING + + +The enquiry was to be made in the guest-parlour on the next morning. + + * * * * * + +Ralph went to mass first at nine o’clock, which was said by a priest +from the parish church who acted as chaplain to the convent; and had a +chair set for him outside the nuns’ choir from which he could see the +altar and the tall pointed window; and then, after some refreshment in +the guest-parlour, spread out his papers, and sat enthroned behind a +couple of tables, as at a tribunal. Mr. Morris stood deferentially by +his chair as the examination was conducted. + +Ralph was a little taken aback by the bearing of the Abbess. In the +course of the enquiry, when he was perplexed by one or two of the +records, she rose from her chair before the table, and came round to his +side, drawing up a seat as she did so; Ralph could hardly tell her to go +back, but his magisterial air was a little affected by having one whom +he almost considered as a culprit sitting judicially beside him. + +“It is better for me to be here,” she said. “I can explain more easily +so.” + + * * * * * + +There was a little orchard that the nuns had sold in the previous year; +and Ralph asked for an explanation. + +“It came from the Kingsford family,” she said serenely; “it was useless +to us.” + +“But--” began the inquisitor. + +“We needed some new vestments,” she went on. “You will understand, Mr. +Torridon, that it was necessary for us to sell it. We are not rich +at all.” + +There was nothing else that called for comment; except the manner in +which the books were kept. Ralph suggested some other method. + +“Dame Agnes has her own ways,” said the old lady. “We must not disturb +her.” + +And Dame Agnes assumed a profound and financial air on the other side of +the table. + +Presently Ralph put a mark in the inventory against a “cope of gold +bawdekin,” and requested that it might be brought. + +The sister-sacristan rose at a word from the Abbess and went out, +returning presently with the vestment. She unfolded the coverings and +spread it out on the table before Ralph. + +It was a magnificent piece of work, of shimmering gold, with orphreys +embroidered with arms; and she stroked out its folds with obvious pride. + +“These are Warham’s arms,” observed the Abbess. “You know them, Mr. +Torridon? We worked these the month before his death.” + +Ralph nodded briskly. + +“Will you kindly leave it here, Reverend Mother,” he said. “I wish to +see it again presently.” + +The Abbess gave no hint of discomposure, but signed to the sacristan to +place it over a chair at one side. + +There were a couple of other things that Ralph presently caused to be +fetched and laid aside--a precious mitre with a couple of cameos in +front, and bordered with emeralds, and a censer with silver filigree +work. + +Then came a more difficult business. + +“I wish to see the nuns one by one, Reverend Mother,” he said. “I must +ask you to withdraw.” + +The Abbess gave him a quick look, and then rose. + +“Very well, sir, I will send them in.” And she went out with Mr. Morris +behind her. + +They came in one by one, and sat down before the table, with downcast +eyes, and hands hidden beneath their scapulars; and all told the same +tale, except one. They had nothing to complain of; they were happy; the +Rule was carefully observed; there were no scandals to be revealed; they +asked nothing but to be left in peace. But there was one who came in +nervously and anxiously towards the end, a woman with quick black eyes, +who glanced up and down and at the door as she sat down. Ralph put the +usual questions. + +“I wish to be released, sir,” she said. “I am weary of the life, and +the--” she stopped and glanced swiftly up again at the commissioner. + +“Well?” said Ralph. + +“The papistical ways,” she said. + +Ralph felt a sudden distrust of the woman; but he hardened his heart. He +set a mark opposite her name; she had been professed ten years, he saw +by the list. + +“Very well,” he said; “I will tell my Lady Abbess.” She still hesitated +a moment. + +“There will be a provision for me?” she asked + +“There will be a provision,” said Ralph a little grimly. He was +authorised to offer in such cases a secular dress and a sum of five +shillings. + +Lastly came in Margaret herself. + +Ralph hardly knew her. He had been unable to distinguish her at mass, +and even now as she faced him in her black habit and white head-dress it +was hard to be certain of her identity. But memory and sight were +gradually reconciled; he remembered her delicate eyebrows and thin +straight lips; and when she spoke he knew her voice. + +They talked a minute or two about their home; but Ralph did not dare to +say too much, considering what he had yet to say. + +“I must ask you the questions,” he said at last, smiling at her. + +She looked up at him nervously, and dropped her eyes once more. + +She nodded or shook her head in silence at each enquiry, until at last +one bearing upon the morals of the house came up; then she looked +swiftly up once more, and Ralph saw that her grey eyes were terrified. + +“You must tell me,” he said; and put the question again. + +“I do not know what you mean,” she answered, staring at him bewildered. + +Ralph went on immediately to the next. + +At last he reached the crisis. + +“Margaret,” he said, “I have something to tell you.” He stopped and +began to play with his pen. He had seldom felt so embarrassed as now in +the presence of this shy sister of his of whom he knew so little. He +could not look at her. + +“Margaret, you know, you--you are under age. The King’s Grace has +ordered that all under twenty years of age are to leave their convents.” + +There was a dead silence. + +Ralph was enraged with his own weakness. He had begun the morning’s work +with such determination; but the strange sweet atmosphere of the house, +the file of women coming in one by one with their air of innocence and +defencelessness had affected him. In spite of himself his religious side +had asserted itself, and he found himself almost tremulous now. + +He made a great effort at self-repression, and looked up with hard +bright eyes at his sister. + +“There must be no crying or rebellion,” he said. “You must come with me +to-morrow. I shall send you to Overfield.” + +Still Margaret said nothing. She was staring at him now, white-faced +with parted lips. + +“You are the last?” he said with a touch of harshness, standing up with +his hands on the table. “Tell the Reverend Mother I have done.” + +Then she rose too. + +“Ralph,” she cried, “my brother! For Jesu’s sake--” + +“Tell the Reverend Mother,” he said again, his eyes hard with decision. + +She turned and went out without a word. + + * * * * * + +Ralph found the interview with the Abbess even more difficult than he +had expected. + +Once her face twitched with tears; but she drove them back bravely and +faced him again. + +“Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Torridon, that you intend to take your +sister away?” + +Ralph bowed. + +“And that Dame Martha has asked to be released?” + +Again he bowed. + +“Are you not afraid, sir, to do such work?” + +Ralph smiled bitterly. + +“I am not, Reverend Mother,” he said. “I know too much.” + +“From whom?” + +“Oh! not from your nuns,” he said sharply, “they of course know nothing, +or at least will tell me nothing. It was from Dr. Layton.” + +“And what did Dr. Layton tell you?” + +“I can hardly tell you that, Reverend Mother; it is not fit for your +ears.” + +She looked at him steadily. + +“And you believe it?” + +Ralph smiled. + +“That makes no difference,” he said. “I am acting by his Grace’s +orders.” + +There was silence for a moment. + +“Then may our Lord have mercy on you!” she said. + +She turned to where the gold cope gleamed over the chair, with the mitre +and censer lying on its folds. + +“And those too?” she asked. + +“Those too,” said Ralph. + +She turned towards the door without a word. + +“There are the fees as well,” remarked Ralph. “We can arrange those this +evening, Reverend Mother.” + +The little stiff figure turned and waited at the door. “And at what time +will you dine, sir?” + +“Immediately,” said Ralph. + + * * * * * + +He was served at dinner with the same courtesy as before; but the lay +sister’s eyes were red, and her hands shook as she shifted the plates. +Neither spoke a word till towards the end of the meal. + +“Where is my man?” asked Ralph, who had not seen him since he had gone +out with the Abbess a couple of hours before. + +The sister shook her head. + +“Where is the Reverend Mother?” + +Again she shook her head. + +Ralph enquired the hour of Vespers, and when he had learnt it, took his +cap and went out to look for Mr. Morris. He went first to the little +dark outhouse, and peered in over the bottom half of the door, but there +was no sign of him there. He could see a horse standing in a stall +opposite, and tried to make out the second horse that he knew was there; +but it was too dark, and he turned away. + +It was a warm October afternoon as he went out through the gatehouse, +still and bright, with the mellow smell of dying leaves in the air; the +fields stretched away beyond the road into the blue distance as he went +along, and were backed by the thinning woods, still ruddy with the last +flames of autumn. Overhead the blue sky, washed with recent rains, +arched itself in a great transparent vault, and a stream of birds +crossed it from east to west. + +He went round the corner of the convent buildings and turned up into a +meadow beside a thick privet hedge that divided it from the garden, and +as he moved along he heard a low humming noise sounding from the other +side. + +There was a door in the hedge at the point, and at either side the +growth was a little thin, and he could look through without being +himself seen. + +The grass was trim and smooth inside; there was a mass of autumn +flowers, grown no doubt for the altar, running in a broad bed across the +nearer side of the garden, and beyond it rose a grey dial, round which +sat a circle of nuns. + +Ralph pressed his face to the hedge and watched. + +There they were, each with her wheel before her, spinning in silence. +The Abbess sat in the centre, immediately below the dial, with a book in +her hand, and was turning the pages. + +He could see a nun’s face steadily bent on her wheel--that was Dame +Agnes who had fetched the cope for him in the morning. She seemed +perfectly quiet and unaffected, watching her thread, and putting out a +deft hand now and again to the machinery. Beside her sat another, whose +face he remembered well; she had stammered a little as she gave her +answers in the morning, and even as he looked the face twitched +suddenly, and broke into tears. He saw the Abbess turn from her book and +lay her hand, with a kind of tender decision on the nun’s arm, and saw +her lips move, but the hum and rattle of the spinning-wheels was too +loud to let him hear what she said; he saw now the other nun lift her +face again from her hands, and wink away her tears as she laid hold of +the thread once more. + + * * * * * + +Ralph had a strange struggle with himself that afternoon as he walked on +in the pleasant autumn weather through meadow and copse. The sight of +the patient women had touched him profoundly. Surely it was almost too +much to ask him to turn away his own sister from the place she loved! If +he relented, it was certain that no other Visitor would come that way +for the present; she might at least have another year or two of peace. +Was it too late? + +He reminded himself again how such things were bound to happen; how +every change, however beneficial, must bring sorrow with it, and that to +turn back on such work because a few women suffered was not worthy of a +man. It was long before he could come to any decision, and the evening +was drawing on, and the time for Vespers come and gone before he turned +at last into the village to enquire for his servant. + +The other men had seen nothing of Mr. Morris that day; he had not been +back to the village. + +A group or two stared awefully at the fine gentleman with the strong +face and steady intolerant eyes, as he strode down the tiny street in +his rich dress, swinging his long silver-headed cane. They had learnt +who he was now, but were so overcome by seeing the King’s Commissioner +that they forgot to salute him. As he turned the corner again he looked +round once more, and there they were still watching him. A few women had +come to the doors as well, and dropped their arched hands hastily and +disappeared as he turned. + +The convent seemed all as he had left it earlier in the afternoon, as he +came in sight of it again. The high chapel roof rose clear against the +reddening sky, with the bell framed in its turret distinct as if carved +out of cardboard against the splendour. + +He was admitted instantly when he rang on the bell, but the portress +seemed to look at him with a strange air of expectancy, and stood +looking after him as he went across the paved court to the door of the +guest-house. + +There was a murmur of voices in the parlour as he paused in the entry, +and he wondered who was within, but as his foot rang out the sound +ceased. + +He opened the door and went in; and then stopped bewildered. + +In the dim light that passed through the window stood his father and +Mary Maxwell, his sister. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +FATHER AND SON + + +None of the three spoke for a moment. + +Then Mary drew her breath sharply as she saw Ralph’s face, for it had +hardened during that moment into a kind of blind obstinacy which she had +only seen once or twice in her life before. + +As he stood there he seemed to stiffen into resistance. His eyelids +drooped, and little lines showed themselves suddenly at either side of +his thin mouth. His father saw it too, for the hand that he had lifted +entreatingly sank again, and his voice was tremulous as he spoke. + +“Ralph--Ralph, my son!” he said. + +Still the man said nothing; but stood frozen, his face half-turned to +the windows. + +“Ralph, my son,” said the other again, “you know why we have come.” + +“You have come to hinder my business.” + +His voice was thin and metallic, as rigid as steel. + +“We have come to hinder a great sin against God,” said Sir James. + +Ralph opened his eyes wide with a sort of fury, and thrust his chin out. + +“She should pack a thousand times more now than before,” he said. + +The father’s face too deepened into strength now, and he drew himself +up. + +“Do you know what you are doing?” he said. + +“I do, sir.” + +There was an extraordinary insolence in his voice, and Mary took a step +forward. + +“Oh! Ralph,” she said, “at least do it like a gentleman!” + +Ralph turned on her sharply, and the obstinacy vanished in anger. + +“I will not be pushed like this,” he snarled. “What right is it of yours +to come between me and my work?” + +Sir James made a quick imperious gesture, and his air of entreaty fell +from him like a cloak. + +“Sit down, sir,” he said, and his voice rang strongly. “We have a right +in Margaret’s affairs. We will say what we wish.” + +Mary glanced at him: she had never seen her father like this before as +he stood in three quarter profile, rigid with decision. When she looked +at Ralph again, his face had tightened once more into obstinacy. He +answered Sir James with a kind of silky deference. + +“Of course, I will sit down, sir, and you shall say what you will.” + +He went across the room and drew out a couple of chairs before the cold +hearth where the white ashes and logs of last night’s fire still rested. +Sir James sat down with his back to the window so that Mary could not +see his face, and Ralph stood by the other chair a moment, facing her. + +“Sit down, Mary,” he said. “Wait, I will have candles.” + +He stepped back to the door and called to the portress, and then +returned, and seated himself deliberately, setting his cane in the +corner beside him. + +None of the three spoke again until the nun had come in with a couple of +candles that she set in the stands and lighted; then she went out +without glancing at anyone. Mary was sitting in the window seat, so the +curtains remained undrawn, and there was a mystical compound of twilight +and candle-light in the room. + +She had a flash of metaphor, and saw in it the meeting of the old and +new religions; the type of these two men, of whom the light of one was +fading, and the other waxing. The candlelight fell full on Ralph’s face +that stood out against the whitewashed wall behind. + +Then she listened and watched with an intent interest. + + * * * * * + +“It is this,” said Sir James, “we heard you were here--” + +Ralph smiled with one side of his mouth, so that his father could see +it. + +“I do not wish to do anything I should not,” went on the old man, “or to +meddle in his Grace’s matters--” + +“And you wish me not to meddle either, sir,” put in Ralph. + +“Yes,” said his father. “I am very willing to receive you and your wife +at home; to make any suitable provision; to give you half the house if +you wish for it; if you will only give up this accursed work.” + +He was speaking with a tranquil deliberation; all the emotion and +passion seemed to have left his voice; but Mary, from behind, could see +his right hand clenched like a vice upon the knob of his chair-arm. It +seemed to her as if the two men had suddenly frozen into +self-repression. Their air was one of two acquaintances talking, not of +father and son. + +“And if not, sir?” asked Ralph with the same courtesy. + +“Wait,” said his father, and he lifted his hand a moment and dropped it +again. He was speaking in short, sharp sentences. “I know that you have +great things before you, and that I am asking much from you. I do not +wish you to think that I am ignorant of that. If nothing else will do I +am willing to give up the house altogether to you and your wife. I do +not know about your mother.” + +Mary drew her breath hard. The words were like an explosion in her soul, +and opened up unsuspected gulfs. Things must be desperate if her father +could speak like that. He had not hinted a word of this during that +silent strenuous ride they had had together when he had called for her +suddenly at Great Keynes earlier in the afternoon. She saw Ralph give a +quick stare at his father, and drop his eyes again. + +“You are very generous, sir,” he said almost immediately, “but I do not +ask for a bribe.” + +“You--you are unlike your master in that, then,” said Sir James by an +irresistible impulse. + +Ralph’s face stiffened yet more. + +“Then that is all, sir?” he asked. + +“I beg your pardon for saying that,” added his father courteously. “It +should not have been said. It is not a bribe, however; it is an offer to +compensate for any loss you may incur.” + +“Have you finished, sir?” + +“That is all I have to say on that point,” said Sir James, “except--” + +“Well, sir?” + +“Except that I do not know how Mistress Atherton will take this story.” + +Ralph’s face grew a shade paler yet. But his lips snapped together, +though his eyes flinched. + +“That is a threat, sir.” + +“That is as you please.” + +A little pulse beat sharply in Ralph’s cheek. He was looking with a +kind of steady fury at his father. But Mary thought she saw indecision +too in his eye-lids, which were quivering almost imperceptibly. + +“You have offered me a bribe and a threat, sir. Two insults. Have you a +third ready?” + +Mary heard a swift-drawn breath from her father, but he spoke quietly. + +“I have no more to say on that point,” he said. + +“Then I must refuse,” said Ralph instantly. “I see no reason to give up +my work. I have very hearty sympathy with it.” + +The old man’s hand twitched uncontrollably on his chair-arm for a +moment; he half lifted his hand, but he dropped it again. + +“Then as to Margaret,” he went on in a moment. “I understand you had +intended to dismiss her from the convent?” + +Ralph bowed. + +“And where do you suggest that she should go?” + +“She must go home,” said Ralph. + +“To Overfield?” + +Ralph assented. + +“Then I will not receive her,” said Sir James. + +Mary started up. + +“Nor will Mary receive her,” he added, half turning towards her. + +Mary Maxwell sat back at once. She thought she understood what he meant +now. + +Ralph stared at his father a moment before he too understood. Then he +saw the point, and riposted deftly. He shrugged his shoulders +ostentatiously as if to shake off responsibility. + +“Well, then, that is not my business; I shall give her a gown and five +shillings to-morrow, with the other one.” + +The extraordinary brutality of the words struck Mary like a whip, but +Sir James met it. + +“That is for you to settle then,” he said. “Only you need not send her +to Overfield or Great Keynes, for she will be sent back here at once.” + +Ralph smiled with an air of tolerant incredulity. Sir James rose +briskly. + +“Come, Mary,” he said, and turned his back abruptly on Ralph, “we must +find lodgings for to-night. The good nuns will not have room.” + +As Mary looked at his face in the candlelight she was astonished by its +decision; there was not the smallest hint of yielding. It was very pale +but absolutely determined, and for the last time in her life she noticed +how like it was to Ralph’s. The line of the lips was identical, and his +eyelids drooped now like his son’s. + +Ralph too rose and then on a sudden she saw the resolute obstinacy fade +from his eyes and mouth. It was as if the spirit of one man had passed +into the other. + +“Father--” he said. + +She expected a rush of emotion into the old man’s face, but there was +not a ripple. He paused a moment, but Ralph was silent. + +“I have no more to say to you, sir. And I beg that you will not come +home again.” + +As they passed out into the entrance passage she turned again and saw +Ralph dazed and trembling at the table. Then they were out in the road +through the open gate and a long moan broke from her father. + +“Oh! God forgive me,” he said, “have I failed?” + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A NUN’S DEFIANCE + + +It was a very strange evening that Mary and her father passed in the +little upstairs room looking on to the street at Rusper. + +Sir James had hardly spoken, and after supper had sat near the window, +with a curious alertness in his face. Mary knew that Chris was expected, +and that Mr. Morris had ridden on to fetch him after he had called at +Overfield, but from her short interview with Margaret she had seen that +his presence would not be required. The young nun, though bewildered and +stunned by the news that she must go, had not wavered for a moment as +regards her intention to follow out her Religious vocation in some +manner; and it was to confirm her in it, in case she hesitated, that Sir +James had sent on the servant to fetch Chris. + +It was all like a dreadful dream to Mary. + +She had gone out from dinner at her own house into the pleasant October +sunshine with her cheerful husband beside her, when her father had come +out through the house with his riding-whip in his hand; and in a few +seconds she had found herself plunged into new and passionate relations, +first with him, for she had never seen him so stirred, and then with her +brothers and sister. Ralph, that dignified man of affairs, suddenly +stepped into her mind as a formidable enemy of God and man; Chris +appeared as a spiritual power, and the quiet Margaret as the very centre +of the sudden storm. + +She sat here now by the fire, shading her face with her hand and +watching that familiar face set in hard and undreamed lines of passion +and resolution and expectancy. + +Once as footsteps came up the street he had started up and sat down +trembling. + +She waited till the steps went past, and then spoke. + +“Chris will be riding, father.” + +He nodded abruptly, and she saw by his manner that it was not Chris he +was expecting. She understood then that he still had hopes of his other +son, but they sat on into the night in the deep stillness, till the fire +burned low and red, and the stars she had seen at the horizon wheeled up +and out of sight above the window-frame. + +Then he suddenly turned to her. + +“You must go to bed, Mary,” he said. “I will wait for Chris.” + +She lay long awake in the tiny cupboard-room that the labourer and his +wife had given up to her, hearing the horses stamp in the cold shed at +the back of the house, and the faces moved and turned like the colours +of a kaleidoscope. Now her father’s eyes and mouth hung like a mask +before her, with that terrible look that had been on them as he faced +Ralph at the end; now Ralph’s own face, defiant, icy, melting in turns; +now Margaret’s with wide terrified eyes, as she had seen it in the +parlour that afternoon; now her own husband’s. And the sweet autumn +woods and meadows lay before her as she had seen them during that silent +ride; the convent, the village, her own home with its square windows and +yew hedge--a hundred images. + + * * * * * + +There was a talking when she awoke for the last time and through the +crazy door glimmered a crack of grey dawn, and as she listened she knew +that Chris was come. + +It was a strange meeting when she came out a few minutes later. There +was the monk, unshaven and pale under the eyes, with his thinned face +that gave no smile as she came in; her father desperately white and +resolved; Mr. Morris, spruce and grave as usual sitting with his hat +between his knees behind the others;--he rose deferentially as she came +in and remained standing. + +Her father began abruptly as she appeared. + +“He can do nothing,” he said, “he can but turn her on to the road. And I +do not think he will dare.” + +“Ah! Beatrice Atherton?” questioned Mary, who had a clearer view of the +situation now. + +“Yes--Beatrice Atherton. He fears that we shall tell her. He cannot send +Margaret to Overfield or Great Keynes now.” + +“And if he turns her out after all?” + +Sir James looked at her keenly. + +“We must leave the rest to God,” he said. + +The village was well awake by the time that they had finished their talk +and had had something to eat. The drama at the convent had leaked out +through the boy who served the altar there, and a little group was +assembled opposite the windows of the cottage to which the monk had been +seen to ride up an hour or two before. It seemed strange that no priest +had been near them, but it was fairly evident that the terror was too +great. + +As the four came out on to the road, a clerical cap peeped for a moment +from the churchyard wall and disappeared again. + +They went down towards the convent along the grey road, in the pale +autumn morning air. Mary still seemed to herself to walk in a dream, +with her father and brother on either side masquerading in strange +character; the familiar atmosphere had been swept from them, the +background of association was gone, and they moved now in a new scene +with new parts to play that were bringing out powers which she had never +suspected in them. It seemed as if their essential souls had been laid +bare by a catastrophe, and that she had never known them before. + +For herself, she felt helpless and dazed; her own independence seemed +gone, and she was aware that her soul was leaning on those of the two +who walked beside her, and who were masculine and capable beyond all her +previous knowledge of them. + +Behind she heard a murmur of voices and footsteps of three or four +villagers who followed to see what would happen. + +She had no idea of what her father meant to do; it was incredible that +he should leave Margaret in the road with her gown and five shillings; +but it was yet more incredible that all his threats should be idle. Only +one thing emerged clearly, that he had thrown a heavier responsibility +upon Ralph than the latter had foreseen. Perhaps the rest must indeed be +left to God. She did not even know what he meant to do now, whether to +make one last effort with Ralph, or to leave him to himself; and she had +not dared to ask. + +They passed straight down together in silence to the convent-gate; and +were admitted immediately by the portress whose face was convulsed and +swollen. + +“They are to go,” she sobbed. + +Sir James made a gesture, and passed in to the tiny lodge on the left +where the portress usually sat; Chris and Mary followed him in, and Mr. +Morris went across to the guest-house. + +The bell sounded out overhead for mass as they sat there in the dim +morning light, twenty or thirty strokes, and ceased; but there was no +movement from the little door of the guest-house across the court. The +portress had disappeared through the second door that led from the tiny +room in which they sat, into the precincts of the convent itself. + +Mary looked distractedly round her; at the little hatch that gave on to +the entrance gate, and the chain hanging by it that communicated with +one of the bolts, at the little crucifix that hung beside it, the +devotional book that lay on the shelf, the door into the convent with +the title “_Clausura_” inscribed above it. She glanced at her father and +brother. + +Sir James was sitting with his grey head in his hands, motionless and +soundless; Chris was standing upright and rigid, staring steadily out +through the window into the court. + +Then through the window she too saw Mr. Morris come out from the +guest-house and pass along to the stable. + +Again there was silence. + +The minutes went by, and the Saunce bell sounded three strokes from the +turret. Chris sank on to his knees, and a moment later Mary and her +father followed his example, and so the three remained in the dark +silent lodge, with no sound but their breathing, and once a sharp +whispered word of prayer from the old man. + +As the sacring bell sounded there was a sudden noise in the court, and +Mary lifted her head. + +From where she knelt she could see the two doors across the court, those +of the guest-house and the stable beyond, and simultaneously, out of the +one came Ralph, gloved and booted, with his cap on his head, and Mr. +Morris leading his horse out of the other. + +The servant lifted his cap at the sound of the bell, and dropped on to +his knees, still holding the bridle; his master stood as he was, and +looked at him. Mary could only see the latter’s profile, but even that +was scornful and hard. + +Again the bell sounded; the mystery was done; and the servant stood up. + +As her father and Chris rose, Mary rose with them; and the three +remained in complete silence, watching the little scene in the court. + +Ralph made a sign; and the servant attached the bridle of the horse to a +ring beside the stable-door, and went past his master into the +guest-house with a deferential stoop of the shoulders. Ralph stood a +moment longer, and then followed him in. + +Then again the minutes went by. + +There was a sound of horse-hoofs on the road presently, and of talking +that grew louder. The hoofs ceased; there was a sharp peal on the bell; +and the talking began again. + +Chris glanced across at his father; but the old man shook his head; and +the three remained as they were, watching and listening. As the bell +rang out again impatiently, the door behind opened, and the portress +came swiftly through, followed by the Abbess. + +“Come quickly,” the old lady whispered. “Sister Susan is going to let +them in.” + +She stood aside, and made a motion to them to come through, and a moment +late the four were in the convent, and the door was shut behind them. + +“They are Mr. Torridon’s men,” whispered the Abbess, her eyes round with +excitement; “they are come to pack the things.” + +She led them on through the narrow passage, up a stone flight of stairs +to the corridor that ran over the little cloister, and pushed open the +door of a cell. + +“Wait here,” she said. “You can do no more. I will go down to them. You +are in the enclosure, but I cannot help it.” + +And she had whisked out again, with an air of extraordinary composure, +shutting the door behind her. + +The three went across to the window, still speaking no word, and looked +down. + +The tiny court seemed half full of people now. There were three horses +there, besides Ralph’s own marked by its rich saddle, and still attached +to the ring by the stable door, and a couple of men were busy loading +one of them with bundles. From one of these, which was badly packed, a +shimmering corner of gold cloth projected. + +Ralph was standing by the door of the guest-house watching, and making a +sign now and again with his whip. They could not see his face as he +stood so directly below them, only his rich cap and feather, and his +strong figure beneath. Mr. Morris was waiting now by his master’s horse; +the portress was by her door. + +As they looked the little black and white figure of the Abbess came out +beneath them, and stood by the portress. + +The packing went on in silence. It was terrible to Mary to stand there +and watch the dumb-show tragedy, the wrecking and robbing of this +peaceful house; and yet there was nothing to be done. She knew that the +issues were in stronger hands than hers; she glanced piteously at her +father and brother on either side, but their faces were set and white, +and they did not turn at her movement. + +There was the sound of an opening door, and two women came out from the +convent at one side and stood waiting. One was in secular dress; the +other was still in her habit, but carried a long dark mantle across her +arm, and Mary caught her breath and bit her lip fiercely as she +recognised the second to be her sister. + +She felt she must cry out, and denounce the sacrilege, and made an +instinctive movement nearer the window, but in a moment her father’s +hand was on her arm. + +“Be still, Mary: it is all well.” + +One of the horses was being led away by now through the open door; and +the two others followed almost immediately; but the principal actors +were still in their places; the Abbess and the portress together on this +side; Ralph on that; and the two other women, a little apart from one +another, at the further end of the court. + +Then Ralph beckoned abruptly with his whip, and Mary saw her sister move +out towards the gate; she caught a glance of her face, and saw that her +lips were white and trembling, and her eyes full of agony. The other +woman followed briskly, and the two disappeared through to the road +outside. + +Again Ralph beckoned, and Mr. Morris brought up the horse that he had +now detached from the ring, and stood by its head, holding the +off-stirrup for his master to mount. Ralph gathered the reins into his +left hand, and for a moment they saw his face across the back of the +horse fierce and white; then he was up, and settling his right foot into +the stirrup. + +Mr. Morris let go, and stood back; and simultaneously Ralph struck him +with his riding-whip across the face, a furious back-handed slash. + +Mary cried out uncontrollably and shrank back; and a moment later her +father was leaning from the window, and she beside him. + +“You damned coward!” he shouted. “Morris, you are my servant now.” + +Ralph did not turn his head an inch, and a moment later disappeared on +horse-back through the gate, and the portress had closed it behind him. + +The little court was silent now, and empty except for the Abbess’ +motionless figure behind, with Mr. Morris beside her, and the lay sister +by the gate, her hand still on the key that she had turned, and her eyes +intent and expectant fixed on her superior. Mr. Morris lifted a +handkerchief now and again gently to his face, and Mary as she leaned +half sobbing from above saw that there were spots of crimson on the +white. + +“Oh! Morris!” she whispered. + +The servant looked up, with a great weal across one cheek, and bowed a +little, but he could not speak yet. Outside they could hear the jingle +of bridle-chains; and then a voice begin; but they could not distinguish +the words. + +It was Ralph speaking; but they could only guess what it was that he was +saying. Overhead the autumn sky was a vault of pale blue; and a bird or +two chirped briskly from the roof opposite. + +The voice outside grew louder, and ceased, and the noise of horse hoofs +broke out. + +Still there was no movement from any within. The Abbess was standing now +with one hand uplifted as if for silence, and Mary heard the hoofs sound +fainter up the road; they grew louder again as they reached higher +ground; and then ceased altogether. + +The old man touched Mary on the arm, and the three went out along the +little corridor, and down the stone stairs. + +As they passed through the lodge and came into the court Mary saw that +the Abbess had moved from her place, and was standing with the portress +close by the gate; her face was towards them, a little on one side, and +she seemed to be listening intently, her ear against the door, her lower +lip sucked in, and her eyes bright and vacant; she still held one hand +up for silence. + +Then there came a tiny tapping on the wood-work, and she instantly +turned and snatched at the key, and a moment later the door was wide. + +“Come in, my poor child,” she said. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +ST PANCRAS PRIORY + + +It was a little more than a month later that Ralph met his +fellow-Visitor at Lewes Priory. + +He had left Rusper in a storm of angry obstinacy, compelled by sheer +pride to do what he had not intended. The arrival of his father and Mary +there had had exactly the opposite effect to that which they hoped, and +Ralph had turned Margaret out of the convent simply because he could not +bear that they should think that he could be frightened from his +purpose. + +As he had ridden off on that October morning, leaving Margaret standing +outside with her cloak over her arm he had had a very sharp suspicion +that she would be received back again; but he had not felt himself +strong enough to take any further steps; so he contented himself with +sending in his report to Dr. Layton, knowing well that heavy punishment +would fall on the convent if it was discovered that the Abbess had +disobeyed the Visitors’ injunctions. + +Then for a month or so he had ridden about the county, carrying off +spoils, appointing new officials, and doing the other duties assigned to +him; he was offered bribes again and again by superiors of Religious +Houses, but unlike his fellow-Visitors always refused them, and fell the +more hardly on those that offered them; he turned out numbers of young +Religious and released elder ones who desired it, and by the time that +he reached Lewes was fairly practised in the duties of his position. + +But the thought of the consequences of his action with regard to his +future seldom left him. He had alienated his family, and perhaps +Beatrice. As he rode once through Cuckfield, and caught a glimpse of the +woods above Overfield, glorious in their autumn livery, he wondered +whether he would ever find himself at home there again. It was a good +deal to give up; but he comforted himself with the thought of his own +career, and with the pleasant prospect of possessing some such house in +his own right when the work that he now understood had been +accomplished, and the monastic buildings were empty of occupants. + +He had received one letter, to his surprise, from his mother; that was +brought to him by a messenger in one of the houses where he stayed. It +informed him that he had the writer’s approval, and that she was +thankful to have one son at least who was a man, and described further +how his father and Mary had come back, and without Margaret, and that +she supposed that the Abbess of Rusper had taken her back. + +“Go on, my son,” she ended, “it will be all well. You cannot come home, +I know, while your father is in his present mind; but it is a dull place +and you lose nothing. When you are married it will be different. Mr. +Carleton is very tiresome, but it does not matter.” + +Ralph smiled to himself as he thought of the life that must now be +proceeding at his home. + +He had written once to Beatrice, in a rather tentative tone, assuring +her that he was doing his best to be just and merciful, and professing +to take it for granted that she knew how to discount any exaggerated +stories of the Visitors’ doings that might come to her ears. But he had +received no answer, and indeed had told her that he did not expect one, +for he was continually on the move and could give no fixed address. + +As he came up over the downs above Lewes he was conscious of a keen +excitement; this would be the biggest work he had undertaken, and it had +the additional zest of being a means of annoying his brother who had +provoked him so often. Since his quarrel with Chris in his own rooms in +the summer he had retained an angry contempt towards him. Chris had been +insolent and theatrical, he told himself, and had thrown off all claims +to tenderness, and Ralph’s feelings towards him were not improved by the +information given him by one of his men that his brother had been +present at the scene at Rusper, no doubt summoned there by Morris, who +had proved such a desperate traitor to his master by slipping off to +Overfield on the morning of the Sunday. + +Ralph was very much puzzled at first by Morris’s behaviour; the man had +always been respectful and obedient, but it was now evident to him that +he had been half-hearted all along, and still retained a superstitious +reverence for ecclesiastical things and persons; and although it was +very inconvenient and tiresome to lose him, yet it was better to be +inadequately than treacherously served. + + * * * * * + +Lewes Priory was a magnificent sight as Ralph came up on to the top of +the last shoulder below Mount Harry. The town lay below him in the deep, +cup-like hollow, piled house above house along the sides. Beyond it in +the evening light, against the rich autumn fields and the gleam of +water, towered up the tall church with the monastic buildings nestling +behind. + +The thought crossed his mind that it would do very well for himself; +the town was conveniently placed between London and the sea, within a +day’s ride from either; there would be shops and company there, and the +priory itself would be a dignified and suitable house, when it had been +properly re-arranged. The only drawback would be Beatrice’s +scrupulousness; but he had little doubt that ultimately that could be +overcome. It would be ridiculous for a single girl to set herself up +against the conviction of a country, and refuse to avail herself of the +advantages of a reform that was so sorely needed. She trusted him +already; and it would not need much persuasion he thought to convince +her mind as well as her heart. + +Of course Lewes Priory would be a great prize, and there would be many +applicants for it, and he realized that more than ever as he came up to +its splendid gateway and saw the high tower overhead, and the long tiled +roofs to the right; but his own relations with Cromwell were of the +best, and he decided that at least no harm could result from asking. + +It was with considerable excitement that he dismounted in the court, and +saw the throng of Dr. Layton’s men going to and fro. As at Durford, so +here, his superior had arrived before him, and the place was already +astir. The riding-horses had been bestowed in the stables, and the +baggage-beasts were being now unloaded before the door of the +guest-house; there were servants going to and fro in Dr. Layton’s +livery, with an anxious-faced monk or two here and there among them, and +a buzz and clatter rose on all sides. One of Dr. Layton’s secretaries +who had been at Durford, recognised Ralph and came up immediately, +saluting him deferentially. + +“The doctor is with the Sub-Prior, sir,” he said. “He gave orders that +you were to be brought to him as soon as you arrived, Mr. Torridon.” + +Ralph followed him into the guest-house, and up the stairs up which +Chris had come at his first arrival, and was shown into the parlour. +There was a sound of voices as they approached the door, and as Ralph +entered he saw at once that Dr. Layton was busy at his work. + +“Come in, sir,” he cried cheerfully from behind the table at which he +sat. “Here is desperate work for you and me. No less than rank treason, +Mr. Torridon.” + +A monk was standing before the table, who turned nervously as Ralph came +in; he was a middle-aged man, grey-haired and brown-faced like a +foreigner, but his eyes were full of terror now, and his lips trembling +piteously. + +Ralph greeted Dr. Layton shortly, and sat down beside him. + +“Now, sir,” went on the other, “your only hope is to submit yourself to +the King’s clemency. You have confessed yourself to treason in your +preaching, and even if you did not, it would not signify, for I have the +accusation from the young man at Farley in my bag. You tell me you did +not know it was treason; but are you ready, sir, to tell the King’s +Grace that?” + +The monk’s eyes glanced from one to the other anxiously. Ralph could see +that he was desperately afraid. + +“Tell me that, sir,” cried the doctor again, rapping the table with his +open hand. + +“I--I--what shall I do, sir?” stammered the monk. + +“You must throw yourself on the King’s mercy, reverend father. And as a +beginning you must throw yourself on mine and Mr. Torridon’s here. Now, +listen to this.” + +Dr. Layton lifted one of the papers that lay before him and read it +aloud, looking severely at the monk over the top of it between the +sentences. It was in the form of a confession, and declared that on such +a date in the Priory Church of St Pancras at Lewes the undersigned had +preached treason, although ignorant that it was so, in the presence of +the Prior and community; and that the Prior, although he knew what was +to be said, and had heard the sermon in question, had neither forbidden +it beforehand nor denounced it afterwards, and that the undersigned +entreated the King’s clemency for the fault and submitted himself +entirely to his Grace’s judgment. + +“I--I dare not accuse my superior,” stammered the monk. + +Dr. Layton glared at him, laying the paper down. + +“The question is,” he cried, “which would you sooner offend--your Prior, +who will be prior no longer presently, or the King’s Grace, who will +remain the King’s Grace for many years yet, by the favour of God, and +who has moreover supreme rights of life and death. That is your choice, +reverend father.”--He lifted the paper by the corners.--“You have only +to say the word, sir, and I tear up this paper, and write my own report +of the matter.” + +The monk again glanced helplessly at the two men. Ralph had a touch of +contentment at the thought that this was Christopher’s superior, ranged +like a naughty boy at the table, and looked at him coldly. Dr. Layton +made a swift gesture as if to tear the paper, and the Sub-Prior threw +out his hands. + +“I will sign it, sir,” he said, “I will sign it.” + +When the monk had left the room, leaving his signed confession behind +him, Dr. Layton turned beaming to Ralph. + +“Thank God!” he said piously. “I do not know what we should have done if +he had refused; but now we hold him and his prior too. How have you +fared, Mr. Torridon?” + +Ralph told him a little of his experiences since his last report, of a +nunnery where all but three had been either dismissed or released; of a +monastery where he had actually caught a drunken cellarer unconscious by +a barrel, and of another where he had reason to fear even worse crimes. + +“Write it all down, Mr. Torridon,” cried the priest, “and do not spare +the adjectives. I have some fine tales for you myself. But we must +despatch this place first. We shall have grand sport in the +chapter-house to-morrow. This prior is a poor timid fellow, and we can +do what we will with him. Concealed treason is a sharp sword to threaten +him with.” + +Ralph remarked presently that he had a brother a monk here. + +“But you can do what you like to him,” he said. “I have no love for him. +He is an insolent fellow.” + +Dr. Layton smiled pleasantly. + +“We will see what can be done,” he said. + + * * * * * + +Ralph slept that night in the guest-house, in the same room that Chris +had occupied on his first coming. He awoke once at the sound of the +great bell from the tower calling the monks to the night-office, and +smiled at the fantastic folly of it all. His work during the last month +had erased the last remnants of superstitious fear, and to him now more +than ever the Religious Houses were but noisy rookeries, clamant with +bells and chanting, and foul with the refuse of idleness. The sooner +they were silenced and purged the better. + +He did not trouble to go to mass in the morning, but lay awake in the +white-washed room, hearing footsteps and voices below, and watching the +morning light brighten on the wall. He found himself wondering once or +twice what Chris was doing, and how he felt; he did not rise till one of +his men looked in to tell him that Dr. Layton would be ready for him in +half-an-hour, if he pleased. + +The chapter-house was a strange sight as he entered it from the +cloister. It was a high oblong chamber some fifty feet long, with arched +roof like a chapel, and a paved floor. On a dozen stones or so were cut +inscriptions recording the presence of bodies entombed below, among them +those of Earl William de Warenne and Gundrada, his wife, founders of the +priory five centuries ago. Ralph caught sight of the names as he strode +through the silent monks at the door and entered the chamber, talking +loudly with his fellow-Visitor. The tall vaulted room looked bare and +severe; the seats ran round it, raised on a step, and before the Prior’s +chair beneath the crucifix stood a large table covered with papers. +Beneath it, and emerging on to the floor lay a great heap of vestments +and precious things which Dr. Layton had ordered to be piled there for +his inspection, and on the table itself for greater dignity burned two +tapers in massive silver candlesticks. + +“Sit here, Mr. Torridon,” said the priest, himself taking the Prior’s +chair, “we represent the supreme head of the Church of England now, you +must remember.” + +And he smiled at the other with a solemn joy. + +He glanced over his papers, settled himself judicially, and then signed +to one of his men to call the monks in. His two secretaries seated +themselves at either end of the table that stood before their master. + +Then the two lines began to file in, in reverse order, as the doctor had +commanded; black silent figures with bowed heads buried in their hoods, +and their hands invisible in the great sleeves of their cowls. + +Ralph ran his eyes over them; there were men of all ages there, old +wrinkled faces, and smooth ones; but it was not until they were all +standing in their places that he recognised Chris. + +There stood the young man, at a stall near the door, his eyes bent down, +and his face deadly pale, his figure thin and rigid against the pale oak +panelling that rose up some eight feet from the floor. Ralph’s heart +quickened with triumph. Ah! it was good to be here as judge, with that +brother of his as culprit! + +The Prior and Sub-prior, whose places were occupied, stood together in +the centre of the room, as the doctor had ordered. It was their case +that was to come first. + +There was an impressive silence; the two Visitors sat motionless, +looking severely round them; the secretaries had their clean paper +before them, and their pens, ready dipped, poised in their fingers. + +Then Dr. Layton began. + + * * * * * + +It was an inexpressibly painful task, he said, that he had before him; +the monks were not to think that he gloried in it, or loved to find +fault and impose punishments; and, in fact, nothing but the knowledge +that he was there as the representative of the supreme authority in +Church and State could have supplied to him the fortitude necessary for +the performance of so sad a task. + +Ralph marvelled at him as he listened. There was a solemn sound in the +man’s face and voice, and dignity in his few and impressive gestures. It +could hardly be believed that he was not in earnest; and yet Ralph +remembered too the relish with which the man had dispersed his foul +tales the evening before, and the cackling laughter with which their +recital was accompanied. But it was all very wholesome for Chris, he +thought. + +“And now,” said Dr. Layton, “I must lay before you this grievous matter. +It is one of whose end I dare not think, if it should come before the +King’s Grace; and yet so it must come. It is no less a matter than +treason.” + +His voice rang out with a melancholy triumph, and Ralph, looking at the +two monks who stood in the centre of the room, saw that they were both +as white as paper. The lips of the Prior were moving in a kind of +agonised entreaty, and his eyes rolled round. + +“You, sir,” cried the doctor, glaring at the Sub-Prior, who dropped his +beseeching eyes at the fierce look, “you, sir, have committed the +crime--in ignorance, you tell me--but at least the crime of preaching in +this priory-church in the presence of his Grace’s faithful subjects a +sermon attacking the King’s most certain prerogatives. I can make +perhaps allowances for this--though I do not know whether his Grace will +do so--but I can make allowances for one so foolish as yourself carried +away by the drunkenness of words; but I can make none--none--” he +shouted, crashing his hand upon the table, “none for your superior who +stands beside you, and who forebore either to protest at the treason at +the time or to rebuke it afterwards.” + +The Prior’s hands rose and clasped themselves convulsively, but he made +no answer. + +Dr. Layton proceeded to read out the confession that he had wrung from +the monk the night before, down to the signature; then he called upon +him to come up. + +“Is this your name, sir?” he asked slowly. + +The Sub-Prior took the paper in his trembling hands. + +“It is sir,” he said. + +“You hear it,” cried the doctor, staring fiercely round the faces, “he +tells you he has subscribed it himself. Go back to your place, reverend +father, and thank our Lord that you had courage to do so. + +“And now, you, sir, Master Prior, what have you to say?” + +Dr. Layton dropped his voice as he spoke, and laid his fat hands +together on the table. The Prior looked up with the same dreadful +entreaty as before; his lips moved, but no sound came from them. The +monks round were deadly still; Ralph saw a swift glance or two exchanged +beneath the shrouding hoods, but no one moved. + +“I am waiting, my Lord Prior,” cried Layton in a loud terrible voice. + +Again the Prior writhed his lips to speak. + +Dr. Layton rose abruptly and made a violent gesture. + +“Down on your knees, Master Prior, if you need mercy.” + +There was a quick murmur and ripple along the two lines as the Prior +dropped suddenly on to his knees and covered his face with his hands. + +Dr. Layton threw out his hand with a passionate gesture and began to +speak--. + +“There, reverend fathers and brethren,” he cried, “you see how low sin +brings a man. This fellow who calls himself prior was bold enough, I +daresay, in the church when treason was preached; and, I doubt not, has +been bold enough in private too when he thought none heard him but his +friends. But you see how treachery,--heinous treachery,--plucks the +spirit from him, and how lowly he carries himself when he knows that +true men are sitting in judgment over him. Take example from that, you +who have served him in the past; you need never fear him more now.” + +Dr. Layton dropped his hand and sat down. For one moment Ralph saw the +kneeling man lift that white face again, but the doctor was at him +instantly. + +“Do not dare to rise, sir, till I give you leave,” he roared. “You had +best be a penitent. Now tell me, sir, what you have to say. It shall not +be said that we condemned a man unheard. Eh! Mr. Torridon?” + +Ralph nodded sharply, and glanced at Chris; but his brother was staring +at the Prior. + +“Now then, sir,” cried the doctor again. + +“I entreat you, Master Layton--” + +The Prior’s voice was convulsed with terror as he cried this with +outstretched hands. + +“Yes, sir, I will hear you.” + +“I entreat you, sir, not to tell his Grace. Indeed I am innocent,”--his +voice rose thin and high in his panic--“indeed, I did not know it was +treason that was preached.” + +“Did not know?” sneered the doctor, leaning forward over the table. +“Why, you know your Faith, man--” + +“Master Layton, Master Layton; there be so many changes in these days--” + +“Changes!” shouted the priest; “there be no changes, except of such +knaves as you, Master-Prior; it is the old Faith now as ever. Do you +dare to call his Grace a heretic? Must that too go down in the charges?” + +“No, no, Master Layton,” screamed the Prior, with his hands strained +forward and twitching fingers. “I did not mean that--Christ is my +witness!” + +“Is it not the same Faith, sir?” + +“Yes, Master Layton--yes--indeed, it is. But I did not know--how could I +know?” + +“Then why are you Prior,” cried the doctor with a dramatic gesture, “if +it is not to keep your subjects true and obedient? Do you mean to tell +me--?” + +“I entreat you, sir, for the love of Mary, not to tell his Grace--” + +“Bah!” shouted Dr. Layton, “you may keep your breath till you tell his +Grace that himself. There is enough of this.” Again he rose, and swept +his eyes round the white-faced monks. “I am weary of this work. The +fellow has not a word to say--” + +“Master Layton, Master Layton,” cried the kneeling man once more, +lifting his hands on one of which gleamed the prelatical ring. + +“Silence, sir,” roared the doctor. “It is I who am speaking now. We have +had enough of this work. It seems that there be no true men left, except +in the world; these houses are rotten with crime. Is it not so, Master +Torridon?--rotten with crime! But of all the knaves that I did ever +meet, and they are many and strong ones, I do believe Master Prior, that +you are the worst. Here is my sentence, and see that it be carried out. +You, Master Prior, and you Master Sub-Prior, are to appear before Master +Cromwell in his court on All-Hallows’ Eve, and tell your tales to him. +You shall see if he be so soft as I; it may be that he will send you +before the King’s Grace--that I know not--but at least he will know how +to get the truth out of you, if I cannot--” + +Once more the Prior broke in, in an agony of terror; but the doctor +silenced him in a moment. + +“Have I not given my sentence, sir? How dare you speak?” + +A murmur again ran round the room, and he lifted his hand furiously. + +“Silence,” he shouted, “not one word from a mother’s son of you. I have +had enough of sedition already. Clear the room, officer, and let not one +shaveling monk put his nose within again, until I send for him. I am +weary of them all--weary and broken-hearted.” + +The doctor dropped back into his seat, with a face of profound disgust, +and passed his hand over his forehead. + +The monks turned at the signal from the door, and Ralph watched the +black lines once more file out. + +“There, Mr. Torridon,” whispered the doctor behind his hand. “Did I not +tell you so? Master Cromwell will be able to do what he will with him.” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +RALPH’S RETURN + + +The Visitation of Lewes Priory occupied a couple of days, as the estates +were so vast, and the account-books so numerous. + +In the afternoon following the scene in the chapter-house, Dr. Layton +and Ralph rode out to inspect some of the farms that were at hand, +leaving orders that the stock was to be driven up into the court the +next day, and did not return till dusk. The excitement in the town was +tremendous as they rode back through the ill-lighted streets, and as the +rumour ran along who the great gentlemen were that went along so gaily +with their servants behind them; and by the time that they reached the +priory-gate there was a considerable mob following in their train, +singing and shouting, in the highest spirits at the thought of the +plunder that would probably fall into their hands. + +Layton turned in his saddle at the door, and made them a little speech, +telling them how he was there with the authority of the King’s Grace, +and would soon make a sweep of the place. + +“And there will be pickings,” he cried, “pickings for us all! The widow +and the orphan have been robbed long enough; it is time to spoil the +fathers.” + +There was a roar of amusement from the mob; and a shout or two was +raised for the King’s Grace. + +“You must be patient,” cried Dr. Layton, “and then no more taxes. You +can trust us, gentlemen, to do the King’s work as it should be done.” + +As he passed in through the lamp-lit entrance he turned to Ralph again. + +“You see, Mr. Torridon, we have the country behind us.” + + * * * * * + +It was that evening that Ralph for the first time since the quarrel met +his brother face to face. + +He was passing through the cloister on his way to Dr. Layton’s room, and +came past the refectory door just as the monks were gathering for +supper. He glanced in as he went, and had a glimpse of the clean solemn +hall, lighted with candles along the panelling, the long bare tables +laid ready, the Prior’s chair and table at the further end and the great +fresco over it. A lay brother or two in aprons were going about their +business silently, and three or four black figures, who had already +entered, stood motionless along the raised dais on which the tables +stood. + +The monks had all stopped instantly as Ralph came among them, and had +lowered their hoods with their accustomed courtly deference to a guest; +and as he turned from his momentary pause at the refectory door in the +full blaze of light that shone from it, he met Chris face to face. + +The young monk had come up that instant, not noticing who was there, and +his hood was still over his head. There was a second’s pause, and then +he lifted his hand and threw the hood back in salutation; and as Ralph +bowed and passed on he had a moment’s sight of that thin face and the +large grey eyes in which there was not the faintest sign of recognition. + +Ralph’s heart was hot with mingled emotion as he went up the cloister. +He was more disturbed by the sudden meeting, the act of courtesy, and +the cold steady eyes of this young fool of a brother than he cared to +recognise. + +He saw no more of him, except in the distance among his fellows; and he +left the house the next day when the business was done. + + * * * * * + +Matters in the rest of England were going forward with the same +promptitude as in Sussex. Dr. Layton himself had visited the West +earlier in the autumn, and the other Visitors were busy in other parts +of the country. The report was current now that the resources of all the +Religious Houses were to be certainly confiscated, and that those of the +inmates who still persisted in their vocation would have to do so under +the most rigorous conditions imaginable. The results were to be seen in +the enormous increase of beggars, deprived now of the hospitality they +were accustomed to receive; and the roads everywhere were thronged with +those who had been holders of corrodies, or daily sustenance in the +houses; as well as with the evicted Religious, some of whom, dismissed +against their will, were on their way to the universities, where, in +spite of the Visitation, it was thought that support was still to be +had; and others, less reputable, who preferred freedom to monastic +discipline. Yet others were to be met with, though not many in number, +who were on their way to London to lay complaints of various kinds +against their superiors. + +From these and like events the whole country was astir. Men gathered in +groups outside the village inns and discussed the situation, and feeling +ran high on the movements of the day. What chiefly encouraged the +malcontents was the fact that the benefits to be gained by the +dissolution of the monasteries were evident and present, while the +ill-results lay in the future. The great Religious Houses, their farms +and stock, the jewels of the treasury, were visible objects; men +actually laid eyes on them as they went to and from their work or knelt +at mass on Sundays; it was all so much wealth that did not belong to +them, and that might do so, while the corrodies, the daily hospitality, +the employment of labour, and such things, lay either out of sight, or +affected only certain individuals. Characters too that were chiefly +stirred by such arguments, were those of the noisy and self-assertive +faction; while those who saw a little deeper into things, and understood +the enormous charities of the Religious Houses and the manner in which +extreme poverty was kept in check by them,--even more, those who valued +the spiritual benefits that flowed from the fact of their existence, and +saw how life was kindled and inspired by these vast homes of +prayer--such, then as always, were those who would not voluntarily put +themselves forward in debate, or be able, when they did so, to use +arguments that would appeal to the village gatherings. Their natural +leaders too, the country clergy, who alone might have pointed out +effectively the considerations that lay beneath the surface had been +skilfully and peremptorily silenced by the episcopal withdrawing of all +preaching licenses. + + * * * * * + +In the course of Ralph’s travels he came across, more than once, a hot +scene in the village inn, and was able to use his own personality and +prestige as a King’s Visitor in the direction that he wished. + +He came for example one Saturday night to the little village of +Maresfield, near Fletching, and after seeing his horses and servants +bestowed, came into the parlour, where the magnates were assembled. +There were half a dozen there, sitting round the fire, who rose +respectfully as the great gentleman strode in, and eyed him with a +sudden awe as they realised from the landlord’s winks and whispers that +he was of a very considerable importance. + +From the nature of his training Ralph had learnt how to deal with all +conditions of men; and by the time that he had finished supper, and +drawn his chair to the fire, they were talking freely again, as indeed +he had encouraged them to do, for they did not of course, any more than +the landlord, guess at his identity or his business there. + +Ralph soon brought the talk round again to the old subject, and asked +the opinions of the company as to the King’s policy in the visitation of +the Religious Houses There was a general silence when he first opened +the debate, for they were dangerous times; but the gentleman’s own +imperturbable air, his evident importance, and his friendliness, +conspired with the strong beer to open their mouths, and in five minutes +they were at it. + +One, a little old man in the corner who sat with crossed legs, nursing +his mug, declared that to his mind the whole thing was sacrilege; the +houses, he said, had been endowed to God’s glory and service, and that +to turn them to other uses must bring a curse on the country. He went on +to remark--for Ralph deftly silenced the chorus of protest--that his own +people had been buried in the church of the Dominican friars at Arundel +for three generations, and that he was sorry for the man who laid hands +on the tomb of his grandfather--known as Uncle John--for the old man had +been a desperate churchman in his day, and would undoubtedly revenge +himself for any indignity offered to his bones. + +Ralph pointed out, with a considerate self-repression, that the +illustration was scarcely to the point, for the King’s Grace had no +intention, he believed, of disturbing any one’s bones; the question at +issue rather regarded flesh and blood. Then a chorus broke out, and the +hunt was up. + +One, the butcher, with many blessings invoked on King Harry’s head, +declared that the country was being sucked dry by these rapacious +ecclesiastics; that the monks encroached every year on the common land, +absorbed the little farms, paid inadequate wages, and--which appeared +his principal grievance--killed their own meat. + +Ralph, with praiseworthy tolerance, pushed this last argument aside, but +appeared to reflect on the others as if they were new to him, though he +had heard them a hundred times, and used them fifty; and while he +weighed them, another took up the tale; told a scandalous story or two, +and asked how men who lived such lives as these which he related, could +be examples of chastity. + +Once more the little old man burst into the fray, and waving his pot in +an access of religious enthusiasm, rebuked the last speaker for his +readiness to pick up dirt, and himself instanced five or six Religious +known to him, whose lives were no less spotless than his own. + +Again Ralph interposed in his slow voice, and told them that that too +was not the point at issue. The question was not as to whether here and +there monks lived good lives or bad, for no one was compelled to imitate +either, but as to whether on the whole the existence of the Religious +Houses was profitable in such practical matters as agriculture, trade, +and the relief of the destitute. + +And so it went on, and Ralph began to grow weary of the inconsequence of +the debaters, and their entire inability to hold to the salient points; +but he still kept his hand on the rudder of the discussion, avoided the +fogs of the supernatural and religious on the one side towards which the +little old man persisted in pushing, and, on the other, the blunt views +of the butcher and the man who had told the foul stories; and contented +himself with watching and learning the opinion of the company rather +than contributing his own. + +Towards the end of the evening he observed two of his men, who had +slipped in and were sitting at the back of the little stifling room, +hugely enjoying the irony of the situation, and determined on ending the +discussion with an announcement of his own identity. + +Presently an opportunity occurred. The little old man had shown a +dangerous tendency to discourse on the suffering souls in purgatory, and +on the miseries inflicted on them by the cessation of masses and +suffrages for their welfare; and an uncomfortable awe-stricken silence +had fallen on the others. + +Ralph stood up abruptly, and began to speak, his bright tired eyes +shining down on the solemn faces, and his mouth set and precise. + +“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “your talk has pleased me very much. I have +learned a great deal, and I hope shall profit by it. Some of you have +talked a quantity of nonsense; and you, Mr. Miggers, have talked the +most, about your uncle John’s soul and bones.” + +A deadly silence fell as these startling words were pronounced; for his +manner up to now had been conciliatory and almost apologetic. But he +went on imperturbably. + +“I am quite sure that Almighty God knows His business better than you or +I, Mr. Miggers; and if He cannot take care of Uncle John without the aid +of masses or dirges sung by fat-bellied monks--” + +He stopped abruptly, and a squirt of laughter burst from the butcher. + +“Well, this is my opinion,” went on Ralph, “if you wish to know it. I +do not think, or suspect, as some of you do--but I _know_--as you will +allow presently that I do, when I tell you who I am--I _know_ that these +houses of which we have been speaking, are nothing better than +wasps’-nests. The fellows look holy enough in their liveries, they make +a deal of buzz, they go to and fro as if on business; but they make no +honey that is worth your while or mine to take. There is but one thing +that they have in their holes that is worth anything: and that is their +jewels and their gold, and the lead on their churches and the bells in +their towers. And all that, by the Grace of God we will soon have out of +them.” + +There was a faint murmur of mingled applause and dissent. Mr. Miggers +stared vacant-faced at this preposterous stranger, and set his mug +resolutely down as a preparation for addressing him, but he had no +opportunity. Ralph was warmed now by his own eloquence, and swept on. + +“You think I do not know of what I am speaking? Well, I have a brother a +monk at Lewes, and a sister a nun at Rusper; and I have been brought up +in this religion until I am weary of it. My sister--well, she is like +other maidens of her kind--not a word to speak of any matter but our +Lady and the Saints and how many candles Saint Christopher likes. And my +brother!--Well, we can leave that. + +“I know these houses as none of you know them; I know how much wine they +drink, how much they charge for their masses, how much treasonable +chatter they carry on in private--I know their lives as I know my own; +and I know that they are rotten and useless altogether. They may give a +plateful or two in charity and a mug of beer; they gorge ten dishes +themselves, and swill a hogshead. They give a penny to the poor man, and +keep twenty nobles for themselves. They take field after field, house +after house; turn the farmer into the beggar, and the beggar into their +bedesman. And, by God! I say that the sooner King Henry gets rid of the +crew, the better for you and me!” + +Ralph snapped out the last words, and stared insolently down on the +gaping faces. Then he finished, standing by the door as he did so, with +his hand on the latch. + +“If you would know how I know all this, I will tell you. My name is +Torridon, of Overfield; and I am one of the King’s Visitors. Good-night, +gentlemen.” + +There was the silence of the grave within, as Ralph went upstairs +smiling to himself. + + * * * * * + +Ralph had intended returning home a week or two after the Lewes +visitation, but there was a good deal to be done, and Layton had pointed +out to him that even if some houses were visited twice over it would do +no harm to the rich monks to pay double fees; so it was not till +Christmas was a week away that he rode at last up to his house-door at +Westminster. + +His train had swelled to near a dozen men and horses by now, for he had +accumulated a good deal of treasure beside that which he had left in +Layton’s hands, and it would not have been safe to travel with a smaller +escort; so it was a gay and imposing cavalcade that clattered through +the narrow streets. Ralph himself rode in front, in solitary dignity, +his weapon jingling at his stirrup, his feather spruce and bright above +his spare keen face; a couple of servants rode behind, fully armed and +formidable looking, and then the train came behind--beasts piled with +bundles that rustled and clinked suggestively, and the men who guarded +them gay with scraps of embroidery and a cheap jewel or two here and +there in their dress. + +But Ralph did not feel so gallant as he looked. During these long +country rides he had had too much time to think, and the thought of +Beatrice and of what she would say seldom left him. The very harshness +of his experiences, the rough faces round him, the dialect of the stable +and the inn, the coarse conversation--all served to make her image the +more gracious and alluring. It was a kind of worship, shot with passion, +that he felt for her. Her grave silences coincided with his own, her +tenderness yielded deliciously to his strength. + +As he sat over his fire with his men whispering behind him, planning as +they thought new assaults on the rich nests that they all hated and +coveted together, again and again it was Beatrice’s face, and not that +of a shrewd or anxious monk, that burned in the red heart of the hearth. +He had seen it with downcast eyes, with the long lashes lying on the +cheek, and the curved red lips discreetly shut beneath; the masses of +black hair shadowed the forehead and darkened the secret that he wished +to read. Or he had watched her, like a jewel in a pig-sty, looking +across the foul-littered farm where he had had to sleep more than once +with his men about him; her black eyes looking into his own with tender +gravity, and her mouth trembling with speech. Or best of all, as he rode +along the bitter cold lanes at the fall of the day, the crowding yews +above him had parted and let her stand there, with her long skirts +rustling in the dry leaves, her slender figure blending with the +darkness, and her sweet face trusting and loving him out of the gloom. + +And then again, like the prick of a wound, the question had touched him, +how would she receive him when he came back with the monastic spoils on +his beasts’ shoulders, and the wail of the nuns shrilling like the wind +behind? + +But by the time that he came back to London he had thought out his +method of meeting her. Probably she had had news of the doings of the +Visitors, perhaps of his own in particular; it was hardly possible that +his father had not written; she would ask for an explanation, and she +should have instead an appeal to her confidence. He would tell her that +sad things had indeed happened, that he had been forced to be present at +and even to carry out incidents which he deplored; but that he had done +his utmost to be merciful. It was rough work, he would say; but it was +work that had to be done; and since that was so--and this was Cromwell’s +teaching--it was better that honourable gentlemen should do it. He had +not been able always to restrain the violence of his men--and for that +he needed forgiveness from her dear lips; and it would be easy enough to +tell stories against him that it would be hard to disprove; but if she +loved and trusted him, and he knew that she did, let her take his word +for it that no injustice had been deliberately done, that on the other +hand he had been the means under God of restraining many such acts, and +that his conscience was clear. + +It was a moving appeal, Ralph thought, and it almost convinced himself. +He was not conscious of any gross insincerity in the defence; of course +it was shaded artistically, and the more brutal details kept out of +sight, but in the main it was surely true. And, as he rehearsed its +points to himself once more in the streets of Westminster, he felt that +though there might be a painful moment or two, yet it would do his work. + + * * * * * + +He had sent a message home that he was coming, and the door of his home +was wide as he dismounted, and the pleasant light of candles shone out, +for the evening was smouldering to dark in the west. + +A crowd had collected as he went along; from every window faces were +leaning; and as he stood on the steps directing the removal of the +treasure into the house, he saw that the mob filled the tiny street, and +the cobbled space, from side to side. They were chiefly of the idling +class, folks who had little to do but to follow up excitements and +shout; and there were a good many cries raised for the King’s Grace and +his Visitors, for such people as these were greedy for any movement that +might bring them gain, and the Religious Houses were beginning to be +more unpopular in town than ever. + +One of the bundles slipped as it was shifted, the cord came off, and in +a moment the little space beyond the mule before the door was covered +with gleaming stuff and jewels. + +There was a fierce scuffle and a cry, and Ralph was in a moment beyond +the mule with his sword out. He said nothing but stood there fierce and +alert as the crowd sucked back, and the servant gathered up the things. +There was no more trouble, for it had only been a spasmodic snatch at +the wealth, and a cheer or two was raised again among the grimy faces +that stared at the fine gentleman and the shining treasure. + +Ralph thought it better, however, to say a conciliatory word when the +things had been bestowed in the house, and the mules led away; and he +stood on the steps a moment alone before entering himself. + +The crowd listened complacently enough to the statements which they had +begun to believe from the fact of the incessant dinning of them into +their ears by the selected preachers at Paul’s Cross and elsewhere; and +there was loud groan at the Pope’s name. + +Ralph was ending with an incise peroration that he had delivered more +than once before. + +“You know all this, good people; and you shall know it better when the +work is done. Instead of the rich friars and monks we will have godly +citizens, each with his house and land. The King’s Grace has promised +it, and you know that he keeps his word. We have had enough of the +jackdaws and their stolen goods; we will have honest birds instead. Only +be patient a little longer--” + +The listening silence was broken by a loud cry-- + +“You damned plundering hound--” + +A stone suddenly out of the gloom whizzed past Ralph and crashed through +the window behind. A great roaring rose in a moment, and the crowd +swayed and turned. + +Ralph felt his heart suddenly quicken, and his hand flew to his hilt +again, but there was no need for him to act. There were terrible screams +already rising from the seething twilight in front, as the stone-thrower +was seized and trampled. He stayed a moment longer, dropped his hilt and +went into the house. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +RALPH’S WELCOME + + +“You will show Mistress Atherton into the room below,” said Ralph to his +man, “as soon as she comes.” + +He was sitting on the morning following his arrival in his own chamber +upstairs. His table was a mass of papers, account-books, reckonings, +reports bearing on his Visitation journey, and he had been working at +them ever since he was dressed; for he had to present himself before +Cromwell in the course of a day or two, and the labour would be +enormous. + +The room below, opposite that in which he intended to see Beatrice and +where she had waited herself a few months before while he talked with +Cromwell and the Archbishop, was now occupied by his collection of plate +and vestments, and the key was in his own pocket. + +He had heard from his housekeeper on the previous evening that Beatrice +had called at the house during the afternoon, and had seemed surprised +to hear that he was to return that night; but she had said very little, +it appeared, and had only begged the woman to inform her master that she +would present herself at his house the next morning. + +And now Ralph was waiting for her. + +He was more ill-at-ease than he had expected to be. The events of the +evening before had given him a curious shock; and he cursed the whole +business--the snapping of the cord round the bundle, his own action and +words, the outrage that followed, and the death of the fellow that had +thrown the stone--for the body had been rescued by the watch a few +minutes later, a tattered crushed thing, beaten out of all likeness to a +man. One of the watch had stepped in to see Ralph as he sat at supper, +and had gone again saying the dog deserved it for daring to lift his +voice against the King and his will. + +But above all Ralph repented of his own words. There was no harm in +saying such things in the country; but it was foolish and rash to do so +in town. Cromwell’s men should be silent and discreet, he knew, not +street-orators; and if he had had time to think he would not have +spoken. However the crowd was with him; there was plainly no one of any +importance there; it was unlikely that Cromwell himself would hear of +the incident; and perhaps after all no harm was done. + +Meanwhile there was Beatrice to reckon with, and Ralph laid down his pen +a dozen times that morning and rehearsed once more what he would have to +say to her. + +He was shrewd enough to know that it was his personality and not his +virtues or his views that had laid hold of this girl’s soul. As it was +with him, so it was with her; each was far enough apart from the other +in all external matters; such things had been left behind a year ago; it +was not an affair of consonant tastes, but of passion. From each there +had looked deep inner eyes; there had been on either side a steady and +fearless scrutiny, and then the two souls had leapt together in a bright +flame of desire, knowing that each was made for the other. There had +been so little love-making, so few speeches after the first meeting or +two, so few letters exchanged, and fewer embraces. The last veils had +fallen at the fury of Chris’s intervention, and they had known then what +had been inevitable all along. + +Ralph smiled to himself as he remembered how little he had said or she +had answered; there had been no need to say anything. And then his eyes +grew wide and passionate, and his hands gripped one another fiercely, as +the memory died, and the burning flame of desire flared within him again +from the deep well he bore in his heart. The world of affairs and +explanations and evasions faded into twilight, and there was but one +thing left, his love and hers. It was to that that he would appeal. + +He sat so a moment longer, and then took up his pen again, though it +shook in his hand, and went on with his reckonings. + + * * * * * + +He was perfectly composed half an hour later as he went downstairs to +meet her. He had finished his line of figures sedately when the man +looked in to say that she was below; and had sat yet a moment longer, +trying to remember mechanically what it was he had determined to tell +her. Bah! it was trifling and unimportant; words did not affect the +question; all the wrecked convents in the world could not touch the one +fact that lay in fire at his heart. He would say nothing; she would +understand. + +In the tiny entrance hall there was a whiff of fragrance where she had +passed through; and his heart stirred in answer. Then he opened the +door, stepped through and closed it behind him. + +She was standing upright by the hearth, and faced him as he entered. He +was aware of her blue mantle, her white, jewelled head-dress, one hand +gripping the mantel-shelf, her pale steady face and bright eyes. Behind +there was the warm rich panelling, and the leaping glow of the wood +fire. + +She made no movement. + +Outside the lane was filled with street noises, the cries of children, +the voices of men who went by talking, the rumble of a waggon coming +with the crack of whips and jingle of bells from the river. The wheels +came up and went past into silence again before either spoke or moved. + +Then Ralph lifted his hands a little and let them drop, as he stared at +her face. From her eyes looked out her will, tense as steel; and his own +shook to meet it. + +“Well?” she said at last; and her voice was perfectly steady. + +“Beatrice,” cried Ralph; and the agony of it tore his heart. + +She dropped her hand to her side and still looked at him without +flinching. + +“Beatrice,” cried Ralph once more. + +“Then you have no more to say--after last night?” + +A torrent of thoughts broke loose in his brain, and he tried to snatch +one as they fled past--to say one word. His excuses went by him like +phantoms; they bewildered and dazed him. Why, there were a thousand +things to say, and each was convincing if he could but say it. The cloud +passed and there were her eyes watching him still. + +“Then that is all?” she said. + +Again the cloud fell on him; little scenes piteously clear rose before +him, of the road by Rusper convent, Layton’s leering face, a stripped +altar; and for each there was a tale if he could but tell it. And still +the bright eyes never flinched. + +It seemed to him as if she was watching him curiously; her lips were +parted, and her head was a little on one side; her face interested and +impersonal. + +“Why, Beatrice--” he cried again. + +Then her love shook her like a storm; he had never dreamed she could +look like that; her mouth shook; he could see her white teeth clenched; +and a shiver went over her. He took one step forward, but stopped again, +for the black eyes shone through the passion that swayed her, as keen +and remorseless as ever. + +He dropped on to his knees at the table and buried his face in his +hands. He knew nothing now but that he had lost her. + +That was her voice speaking now, as steady as her eyes; but he did not +hear a word she said. Words were nothing; they were not so much as those +cries from the street, that shrill boy’s voice over the way; not so much +as the sighing crackle from the hearth where he had caused a fire to be +lighted lest she should feel cold. + +She was still speaking, but her voice had moved; she was no longer by +the fire. He could feel the warmth of the fire now on his hands. But he +dared not move nor look up; there was but one thing left for him--that +he had lost her! + +That was her hand on the latch; a breath of cold air stirred his hair; +and still she was speaking. He understood a little more now; she knew it +all--his doings--what he had said last night--and there was not one word +to say in answer. Her short lashing sentences fell on his defenceless +soul, but all sense was dead, and he watched with a dazed impersonalness +how each stroke went home, and yet he felt no pain or shame. + +She was going now; a picture stirred on the wall by the fire as the wind +rushed in through the open street door. + + * * * * * + +Then the door closed. + + + + +PART II + +THE FALL OF LEWES + + + + +CHAPTER I + +INTERNAL DISSENSION + + +The peace was gone from Lewes Priory. A wave had broken in through the +high wall from the world outside with the coming of the Visitors, and +had left wreckage behind, and swept out security as it went. The monks +knew now that their old privileges were gone with the treasures that +Layton had taken with him, and that although the wave had recoiled, it +would return again and sweep them all away. + +Upon none of them had the blow fallen more fiercely than on Chris; he +had tried to find peace, and instead was in the midst of storm. The high +barriers had gone, and with them the security of his own soul, and the +world that he thought he had left was grinning at the breach. + +It was piteous to him to see the Prior--that delicate, quiet prelate who +had held himself aloof in his dignities--now humbled by the shame of his +exposure in the chapter-house. The courage that Bishop Fisher had +restored to him in some measure was gone again; and it was miserable to +look at that white downcast face in the church and refectory, and to +recognise that all self-respect was gone. After his return from his +appearance before Cromwell he was more wretched than ever; it was known +that he had been sent back in contemptuous disgrace; but it was not +known how much he had promised in his terror for life. + +The house had lost too some half-dozen of its inmates. Two had +petitioned for release; three professed monks had been dismissed, and a +recent novice had been sent back to his home. Their places in the +stately choir were empty, and eloquent with warning; and in their stead +was a fantastic secular priest, appointed by the Visitors’ authority, +who seldom said mass, and never attended choir; but was regular in the +refectory, and the chapter-house where he thundered St. Paul’s epistles +at the monks, and commentaries of his own, in the hopes of turning them +from papistry to a purer faith. + +The news from outside echoed their own misery. Week after week the tales +poured in, of young and old dismissed back to the world whose ways they +had forgotten, of the rape of treasures priceless not only for their +intrinsic worth but for the love that had given and consecrated them +through years of devout service. There was not a house that had not lost +something; the King himself had sanctioned the work by taking precious +horns and a jewelled cross from Winchester. And worse than all that had +gone was the terror of what was yet to come. The world, which had been +creeping nearer, pausing and creeping on again, had at last passed the +boundaries and leapt to sacrilege. + +It was this terror that poisoned life. The sacristan who polished the +jewels that were left, handled them doubtfully now; the monk who +superintended the farm sickened as he made his plans for another year; +the scribe who sat in the carrel lost enthusiasm for his work; for the +jewels in a few months might be on royal fingers, the beasts in +strangers’ sheds, and the illuminated leaves blowing over the cobbled +court, or wrapped round grocers’ stores. + +Dom Anthony preached a sermon on patience one day in Christmastide, +telling his fellows that a man’s life, and still less a monk’s, +consisted not in the abundance of things that he possessed; and that +corporate, as well as individual, poverty, had been the ideal of the +monastic houses in earlier days. He was no great preacher, but the +people loved to hear his homely remarks, and there was a murmur of +sympathy as he pointed with a clumsy gesture to the lighted Crib that +had been erected at the foot of one of the great pillars in the nave. + +“Our Lady wore no cloth of gold,” he said, “nor Saint Joseph a precious +mitre; and the blessed Redeemer Himself who made all things had but +straw to His bed. And if our new cope is gone, we can make our +processions in the old one, and please God no less. Nay, we may please +Him more perhaps, for He knows that it is by no will of ours that we do +so.” + +But there had been a dismal scene at the chapter next morning. The Prior +had made them a speech, with a passionate white face and hands that +shook, and declared that the sermon would be their ruin yet if the +King’s Grace heard of it. + +“There was a fellow that went out half-way through,” he cried in panic, +“how do we know whether he is not talking with his Grace even now? I +will not have such sermons; and you shall be my witnesses that I said +so.” + +The monks eyed one another miserably. How could they prosper under such +a prior as this? + +But worse was to follow, though it did not directly affect this house. +The bill, so long threatened, dissolving the smaller houses, was passed +in February by a Parliament carefully packed to carry out the King’s +wishes, and from which the spiritual peers were excluded by his +“permission to them to absent themselves.” Lewes Priory, of course, +exceeded the limit of revenue under which other houses were suppressed, +and even received one monk who had obtained permission to go there when +his community fell; but in spite of the apparent encouragement from the +preamble of the bill which stated that “in the great solemn monasteries +... religion was right well kept,” it was felt that this act was but the +herald of another which should make an end of Religious Houses +altogether. + +But there was a breath of better news later on, when tidings came in the +early summer that Anne was in disgrace. It was well known that it was +her influence that egged the King on, and that there was none so fierce +against the old ways. Was it not possible that Henry might even yet +repent himself, if she were out of the way? + +Then the tidings were confirmed, and for a while there was hope. + + * * * * * + +Sir Nicholas Maxwell rode over to see Chris, and was admitted into one +of the parlours to talk with him. + +He seemed furiously excited, and hardly saluted his brother-in-law. + +“Chris,” he said, “I have come straight from London with great news. The +King’s harlot is fallen.” + +Chris stared. + +“Dead?” he said. + +“Dead in a day or two, thank God!” + +He spat furiously. + +“God strike her!” he cried. “She has wrought all the mischief, I +believe. They told me so a year back, but I did not believe it.” + +“And where is she?” + +Then Nicholas told his story, his ruddy comely face bright with +exultation, for he had no room for pity left. The rumours that had come +to Lewes were true. Anne had been arrested suddenly at Greenwich during +the sports, and had been sent straight to the Tower. The King was weary +of her, though she had borne him a child; and did not scruple to bring +the most odious charges against her. She had denied, and denied; but it +was useless. She had wept and laughed in prison, and called on God to +vindicate her; but the process went on none the less. The marriage had +been declared null and void by Dr. Cranmer who had blessed it; and now +she was condemned for sinning against it. + +“But she is either his wife,” said Chris amazed, “or else she is not +guilty of adultery.” + +Nicholas chuckled. + +“God save us, Chris; do you think Henry can’t manage it?” + +Then he grew white with passion, and beat the table and damned the King +and Anne and Cranmer to hell together. + +Chris glanced up, drumming his fingers softly on the table. + +“Nick,” he said, “there is no use in that. When is she to die?” + +The knight’s face flushed again with pleasure, and he showed his teeth +set together. + +“Two days,” he said, “please God, or three at the most. And she will not +meet those she has sent before her, or John Fisher whose head she had +brought to her--the bloody Herodias!” + +“Pray God that she will!” said Chris softly. “They will pray for her at +least.” + +“Pah!” shouted Nicholas, “an eye for an eye for me!” + +Chris said nothing. He was thinking of all that this might mean. Who +could know what might not happen? Nicholas broke in again presently. + +“I heard a fine tale,” he said, “do you know that the woman is in the +very room where she slept the night before the crowning? Last time it +was for the crown to be put on; now it is for the head to be taken off. +And it is true that she weeps and laughs. They can hear her laugh two +storeys away, I hear.” + +“Nick,” said Chris suddenly, “I am weary of that. Let her alone. Pray +God she may turn!” + +Nicholas stared astonished, and a little awed too. Chris used not to be +like this; he seemed quieter and stronger; he had never dared to speak +so before. + +“Yes; I am weary of this,” said Chris again. “I stormed once at Ralph, +and gained nothing. We do not win by those weapons. Where is Ralph?” + +Nicholas knit his lips to keep in the fury that urged him. + +“He is with Cromwell still,” he said venomously, “and very busy, I hear. +They will be making him a lord soon--but there will be no lady.” + +Chris had heard of Beatrice’s rejection of Ralph. + +“He is still busy?” + +“Why, yes; he worked long at this bill, I hear.” + +Chris asked a few more questions, and learned that Ralph seemed fiercer +than ever since the Visitation. He was well-known at Court; had been +seen riding with the King; and it was supposed that he was rising +rapidly in favour every day. + +“God help him!” sighed Chris. + +The change that had come over Chris was very much marked. Neither a life +in the world would have done it, nor one in the peace of the cloister; +but an alternation of the two. He had been melted by the fire of the +inner life, and braced by the external bitterness of adversity. Ralph’s +visit to the priory, culminating in the passionless salutation of him in +the cloister as being a guest and therefore a representative of Christ, +had ended that stage in the development of the monk’s character. Chris +was disappointed in his brother, fearful for him and stern in his +attitude towards him; but he was not resentful. He was sincere when he +prayed God to help him. + +When Nicholas had eaten and gone, carrying messages to Mary, Chris told +the others, and there was a revival of hope in the house. + +Then a few days later came the news of Anne’s death and of the marriage +of the King with Jane Seymour on the following day. At least Jane was a +lawful wife and queen in the Catholics’ eyes, for Katharine too was +dead. + + * * * * * + +Chris had now passed through the minor orders, the sub-diaconate and the +diaconate, and was looking forward to priesthood. It had been thought +advisable by his superiors, in view of the troubled state of the times, +to apply for the necessary dispensations, and they had been granted +without difficulty. So many monks who were not priests had been turned +into the world resourceless, since they could not be appointed to +benefices, that it was thought only fair to one who was already bound by +vows of religion and sacred orders not to hold him back from an +opportunity to make his living, should affairs be pushed further in the +direction of dissolution. + +He was looking forward with an extraordinary zeal to the crown of +priesthood. It seemed to him a possession that would compensate for all +other losses. If he could but make the Body of the Lord, lift It before +the Throne, and hold It in his hands, all else was trifling. + +There were waves of ecstatic peace again breaking over his soul as he +thought of it; as he moved behind the celebrant at high mass, lifted the +pall of the chalice, and sang the exultant _Ite missa est_ when all was +done. What a power would be his on that day! He would have his finger +then on the huge engine of grace, and could turn it whither he would, +spraying infinite force on this and that soul, on Ralph stubbornly +fighting against God in London, on his mother silent and bitter at home, +on his father anxious and courageous, waiting for disaster, on Margaret +trembling in Rusper nunnery as she contemplated the defiance she had +flung in the King’s face. + +The Prior had given him but little encouragement; he had sent for him +one day, and told him that he might prepare himself for priesthood by +Michaelmas, for a foreign bishop was coming to them, and leave would be +obtained for him to administer the rite. But he had not said a word of +counsel or congratulation; but had nodded to the young monk, and turned +his sickly face to the papers again on his table. + +Dom Anthony, the pleasant stout guest-master, who had preached the +sermon in Christmastide, said a word of comfort, as they walked in the +cloister together. + +“You must not take it amiss, brother,” he said, “my Lord Prior is beside +himself with terror. He does not know how to act.” + +Chris asked whether there were any new reason for alarm. + +“Oh, no!” said the monk, “but the people are getting cold towards us +here. You have seen how few come to mass here now, or to confession. +They are going to the secular priests instead.” + +Chris remembered one or two other instances of this growing coldness. +The poor folks who came for food complained of its quality two or three +times; and one fellow, an old pensioner of the house, who had lost a +leg, threw his portion down on the doorstep. + +“I will have better than that some day,” he had said, as he limped off. +Chris had gathered up the cold lentils patiently and carried them back +to the kitchen. + +On another day a farmer had flatly refused a favour to the monk who +superintended the priory-farm. + +“I will not have your beasts in my orchard,” he had said roughly. “You +are not my masters.” + +The congregations too were visibly declining, as the guest-master had +said. The great nave beyond the screen looked desolate in the +summer-mornings, as the sunlight lay in coloured patches on the wide +empty pavement between the few faithful gathered in front, and the half +dozen loungers who leaned in the shadow of the west wall--men who +fulfilled their obligation of hearing mass, with a determination to do +so with the least inconvenience to themselves, and who scuffled out +before the blessing. + +It was evident that the tide of faith and reverence was beginning to ebb +even in the quiet country towns. + +As the summer drew on the wider world too had its storms. A fierce +sermon was preached at the opening of Convocation, by Dr. Latimer, now +Bishop of Worcester, at the express desire of the Archbishop, that +scourged not only the regular but the secular clergy as well. The sermon +too was more furiously Protestant than any previously preached on such +an occasion; pilgrimages, the stipends for masses, image-worship, and +the use of an unknown tongue in divine service, were alike denounced as +contrary to the “pure gospel.” The phrases of Luther were abundantly +used in the discourse; and it was evident, from the fact that no public +censure fell upon the preacher, that Henry’s own religious views had +developed since the day that he had published his attack on the foreign +reformers. + +The proceedings of Convocation confirmed the suspicion that the sermon +aroused. With an astonishing compliance the clergy first ratified the +decree of nullity in the matter of Anne’s marriage with the King, +disclaimed obedience to Rome, and presented a list of matters for which +they requested reform. In answer to this last point the King, assisted +by a couple of bishops, sent down to the houses, a month later, a paper +of articles to which the clergy instantly agreed. These articles +proceeded in the direction of Protestantism through omission rather than +affirmation. Baptism, Penance and the Sacrament of the Altar were spoken +of in Catholic terms; the other four sacraments were omitted altogether; +on the other hand, again, devotion to saints, image-worship, and prayers +for the departed were enjoined with important qualifications. + +Finally it was agreed to support the King in his refusal to be +represented at the proposed General Council at Mantua. + + * * * * * + +The tidings of all this, filtering in to the house at Lewes by priests +and Religious who stayed there from time to time, did not tend to +reassure those who looked for peace. The assault was not going to stop +at matters of discipline; it was dogma that was aimed at, and, worse +even than that, the foundation on which dogma rested. It was not an +affair of Religious Houses, or even of morality; there was concerned the +very Rock itself on which Christendom based all faith and morals. If it +was once admitted that a National Church, apart from the See of Rome, +could in the smallest degree adjudicate on a point of doctrine, the +unity of the Catholic Church as understood by every monk in the house, +was immediately ruptured. + +Again and again in chapter there were terrible scenes. The Prior raved +weakly, crying that it was not the part of a good Catholic to resist his +prince, that the Apostle himself enjoined obedience to those in +authority; that the new light of learning had illuminated perplexing +problems; and that in the uncertainty it was safer to follow the certain +duty of civil obedience. Dom Anthony answered that a greater than St. +Paul had bidden His followers to render to God the things that were +God’s; that St. Peter was crucified sooner than obey Nero--and the Prior +cried out for silence; and that he could not hear his Christian King +likened to the heathen emperor. Monk after monk would rise; one +following his Prior, and disclaiming personal learning and +responsibility; another with ironic deference saying that a man’s soul +was his own, and that not even a Religious Superior could release from +the biddings of conscience; another would balance himself between the +parties, declaring that the distinction of duties was insoluble; that in +such a case as this it was impossible to know what was due to God and +what to man. Yet another voice would rise from time to time declaring +that the tales that they heard were incredible; that it was impossible +that the King should intend such evil against the Church; he still heard +his three masses a day as he had always done; there was no more ardent +defender of the Sacrament of the Altar. + +Chris used to steady himself in this storm of words as well as he could, +by reflecting that he probably would not have to make a decision, for it +would be done for him, at least as regarded his life in the convent or +out, by his superiors. Or again he would fix his mind resolutely on his +approaching priesthood; while the Prior sat gnawing his lips, playing +with his cross and rapping his foot, before bursting out again and +bidding them all be silent, for they knew not what they were meddling +with. + +The misery rose to its climax when the Injunctions arrived; and the +chapter sat far into the morning, meeting again after dinner to consider +them. + +These were directions, issued to the clergy throughout the country, by +the authority of the King alone; and this very fact was significant of +what the Royal Supremacy meant. Some of them did not touch the +Religious, and were intended only for parish-priests; but others were +bitterly hard to receive. + +The community was informed that in future, once in every quarter, a +sermon was to be preached against the Bishop of Rome’s usurped power; +the Ten Articles, previously issued, were to be brought before the +notice of the congregation; and careful instructions were to be given as +regards superstition in the matter of praying to the saints. It was the +first of these that caused the most strife. + +Dom Anthony, who was becoming more and more the leader of the +conservative party, pointed out that the See of Peter was to every +Catholic the root of authority and unity, and that Christianity itself +was imperilled if this rock were touched. + +The Prior angrily retorted that it was not the Holy See that was to be +assaulted, but the erection falsely raised upon it; it was the abuse of +power, not the use of it that had to be denounced. + +Dom Anthony requested the Prior to inform him where the line of +distinction lay; and the Prior in answer burst into angry explanations, +instancing the pecuniary demands of the Pope, the appointment of +foreigners to English benefices, and all the rest of the accusations +that were playing such a part now in the religious controversy of the +country. + +Dom Anthony replied that those were not the matters principally aimed at +by the Injunction; it concerned rather the whole constitution of +Christ’s Church, and was a question of the Pope’s or the King’s +supremacy over that part of it that lay in England. + +Finally the debate was ended by the Prior’s declaration that he could +trust no one to preach the enjoined sermon but himself, and that he +would see to it on his own responsibility. + +It was scarcely an inspiring atmosphere for one who was preparing to +take on him the burden of priesthood in the Catholic Church. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +SACERDOS IN AETERNUM + + +It was a day of wonderful autumn peace when Chris first sang mass in the +presence of the Community. + +The previous day he had received priesthood from the hands of the little +old French bishop in the priory church; one by one strange mystical +ceremonies had been performed; the stole had been shifted and crossed on +the breast, the token of Christ’s yoke; the chasuble had been placed +over his head, looped behind; then the rolling cry to the Spirit of God +who alone seals to salvation and office had pealed round the high roof +and down the long nave that stretched away westwards in sunlit gloom; +while across the outstretched hands of the monk had been streaked the +sacred oil, giving him the power to bless the things of God. The hands +were bound up, as if to heal the indelible wound of love that had been +inflicted on them; and, before they were unbound, into the hampered +fingers were slid the sacred vessels of the altar, occupied now by the +elements of bread and wine; while the awful power to offer sacrifice for +the quick and the dead was committed to him in one tremendous phrase. + +Then the mass went on; and the new priest, kneeling with Dom Anthony at +a little bench set at the foot of the altar steps, repeated aloud with +the bishop the words of the liturgy from the great painted missal lying +before him. + +How strange it had been too when all was over! He stood by a pillar in +the nave, beneath St. Pancras’s image, while all came to receive his +blessing. First, the Prior, pale and sullen, as always now; then the +Community, some smiling and looking into his eyes before they knelt, +some perfunctory, some solemn and sedate with downcast faces; each +kissed the fragrant hands, and stood aside, while the laity came up; and +first among them his father and Mary. + +His place too in the refectory had a flower or two laid beside it; and +the day had gone by in a bewildering dream. He had walked with his +father and sister a little, and had found himself smiling and silent in +their company. + +In the evening he had once more gone through the ceremonies of mass, Dom +Anthony stood by, and watched and reminded and criticised. And now the +morning was come, and he stood at the altar. + + * * * * * + +The little wind had dropped last night, and the hills round Lewes stood +in mellow sunlight; the atmosphere was full of light and warmth, that +tender glow that falls on autumn days; the trees in the court outside +stood, poised on the brink of sleep, with a yellow pallor tinging their +leaves; the thousand pigeons exulted and wheeled in the intoxicating +air. + +The shadowy church was alight with sunshine that streamed through the +clerestory windows on to the heavy pillars, the unevenly paved floor, +and crept down the recumbent figures of noble and bishop from head to +foot. There were a few people present beyond the screen, Sir James and +his daughter in front, watching with a tender reverence the harvesting +of the new priest, as he prepared to gather under his hands the mystical +wheat and grapes of God. + +Chris was perfectly practised in his ceremonies; and there was no +anxiety to dissipate the overpowering awe that lay on his soul. He felt +at once natural and unreal; it was supremely natural that he should be +here; he could not conceive being other than a priest; there was in him +a sense of a relaxed rather than an intensified strain; and yet the +whole matter was strange and intangible, as he felt the supernatural +forces gathering round, and surging through his soul. + +He was aware of a dusky sunlit space about him, of the glimmer of the +high candles; and nearer of the white cloth, the shining vessels, the +gorgeous missal, and the rustle of the ministers’ vestments. But the +whole was shot with an inner life, each detail was significant and +sacramental; and he wondered sometimes at the inaudible vibration that +stirred the silent air round him, as he spoke the familiar words to +which he had listened so often. + +He kept his eyes resolutely down as he turned from time to time, +spreading his hands to the people, and was only partly conscious of the +faces watching him from the dark stalls in front and the sunlit nave +beyond. Even the sacred ministers, Dom Anthony and another, seemed to be +little more than crimson impersonal figures that moved and went about +their stately business with deft and gracious hands. + +As he began to penetrate more nearly to the heart of the mystery, and +the angels’ song before the throne rolled up from the choir, there was +an experience of a yet further retirement from the things of sense. Even +the glittering halpas, and the gleams of light above it where the five +chapels branched behind--even these things became shrouded; there was +just a sheet of white beneath him, the glow of a chalice, and the pale +disc of the sacrificial bread. + +Then, as he paused, with hands together--“_famulorum famularumque +tuarum_”--there opened out the world where his spirit was bending its +intention. Figure after figure came up and passed before his closed +eyes, and on each he turned the beam of God’s grace. First Ralph, +sneering and aloof in his rich dress, intent on some Satanic +business;--Chris seized as it were the power of God, and enveloped and +penetrated him with it. Then Margaret, waiting terrified on the divine +will; his mother in her complacent bitterness; Mary; his father--and as +he thought of him it seemed as if all God’s blessings were not too +great; Nicholas; his own brethren in religion, his Prior, contracted and +paralysed with terror; Dom Anthony, with his pathetic geniality.... + +Ah! how short was the time; and yet so long that the Prior looked up +sharply, and the deacon shifted in his rustling silk. + +Then again the hands opened, and the stately flood of petition poured +on, as through open gates to the boundless sea that awaited it, where +the very heart of God was to absorb it into Itself. + +The great names began to flit past, like palaces on a river-brink, their +bases washed by the pouring liturgy--Peter and Paul, Simon and Thaddeus, +Cosmas and Damian--vast pleasure houses alight with God, while near at +hand now gleamed the line of the infinite ocean. + +The hands came together, arched in blessing; and it marked the first +sting of the healing water, as the Divine Essence pushed forward to meet +man’s need. + +“_Hanc igitur oblationem ..._” + +Then followed the swift silent signs, as if the pilot were ordering +sails out to meet the breeze. + +The muttering voice sank to a deliberate whisper, the ripples ceased to +leap as the river widened, and Chris was delicately fingering the white +linen before taking the Host into his hands. + +There was a swift glance up, as to the great Sun that burned overhead, +one more noiseless sign, and he sank forward in unutterable awe, with +his arms on the altar, and the white disc, hovering on the brink of +non-existence, beneath his eyes. + + * * * * * + +The faintest whisper rose from behind as the people shifted their +constrained attitudes. Sir James glanced up, his eyes full of tears, at +the distant crimson figure beneath the steady row of lights, motionless +with outspread hands, poised over the bosom of God’s Love. + +The first murmured words broke the silence; as if next to the Infinite +Pity rose up the infinite need of man--_Nobis quoque peccatoribus_--and +sank to silence again. + +Then loud and clear rang out _Per omnia saecula saeculorum;_ and the +choir of monks sang _Amen_. + +So the great mystery moved on, but upborne now by the very Presence +itself that sustained all things. From the limitless sea of mercy, the +children cried through the priest’s lips to their Father who was in +heaven, and entreated the Lamb of God who takes away sin to have mercy +on them and give them peace. + +Then from far beyond the screen Mary could see how the priest leaning a +little forward towards That which he bore in his hands, looked on what +he bore in them; and she whispered softly with him the words that he was +speaking. _Ave in aeternum sanctissima caro Christi_ ... + +Again she hid her face; and when she raised it once, all was over, and +the Lord had entered and sanctified the body and soul of the man at +whose words He had entered the creature of bread. + +The father and daughter stood together silently in the sunshine outside +the west end of the church, waiting for Chris. He had promised to come +to them there for a moment when his thanksgiving was done. + +Beyond the wall, and the guest-house where the Visitors had lived those +two disastrous days, rose up the far sunlit downs, shadowed here and +there with cup-like hollows, standing like the walls about Jerusalem. + +As they turned, on the right above the red roofs of the town, rose the +downs again, vast slopes and shoulders, over which Chris had ridden so +short a while ago bearded and brown with hunting. It was over there that +Ralph had come, through that dip, which seemed against the skyline a +breach in a high wall. + +Ah! surely God would spare this place; so stately and quiet, so +graciously sheltered by the defences that He Himself had raised! If all +England tottered and fell, this at least might stand, this vast home of +prayer that stirred day and night with the praises of the Eternal and +the petitions of the mortal--this glorious house where a priest so dear +to them had brought forth from his mystical paternity the very Son of +God! + +The door opened behind them, and Chris came out pale and smiling with a +little anxious-eyed monk beside him. His eyes lightened as he saw them +standing there; but he turned again for a moment. + +“Yes--father,” he said. “What was it?” + +“You stayed too long,” said the other, “at the _famularumque tuarum_; +the rubric says _nullus nimis immoretur_, you know;--_nimis immoretur_.” + +“Yes,” said Chris. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE NORTHERN RISING + + +A few of the smaller Religious houses had surrendered themselves to the +King before the passing of the bill in the early spring; and the rest of +them were gradually yielded up after its enactment during the summer of +the same year; and among them was Rusper. Chris heard that his sister +Margaret had returned to Overfield, and would stay there for the +present. + +Throughout the whole of England there were the same scenes to be +witnessed. A troop of men, headed by a Commissioner, would ride up one +evening to some village where a little convent stood, demand entrance at +the gate, pass through, and disappear from the eyes of the watching +crowd. Then the next day the work would begin; the lead would be +stripped from the church and buildings; the treasures corded in bundles; +the woodwork of the interior put up to auction on the village green; and +a few days later the troop would disappear again, heavily laden, leaving +behind roofless walls, and bewildered Religious in their new secular +dress with a few shillings in their pockets, staring after the rich +cavalcade and wondering what was best to do. + +It had been hoped that the King would stay his hand at the death of +Anne, and even yet return to the obedience of the Holy See. The Pope was +encouraged to think so by the authorities on the continent, and in +England itself there prevailed even confidence that a return to the old +ways would be effected. But Henry had gone too far; he had drunk too +deeply of the wealth that lay waiting for him in the treasuries of the +Religious houses, and after a pause of expectation he set his hand to +the cup again. It was but natural too, and for more noble motives, to +such a character as his. As he had aimed in his youth at nothing less +than supremacy in tennis, hunting and tourney, and later in +architecture, music and theological reputation; as, for the same reason +Wolsey had fallen, when the King looked away from girls and sports to +the fiercer game of politics; so now it was intolerable to Henry that +there should be even the shadow of a spiritual independence within his +domain. + +A glow of resentful disappointment swept through the North of England at +the news. It burst out into flame in Lincolnshire, and was not finally +quenched until the early summer of the following year. + + * * * * * + +The news that reached Lewes from time to time during the winter and +spring sent the hearts of all that heard it through the whole gamut of +emotions. At one time fierce hope, then despair, then rising confidence, +then again blank hopelessness--each in turn tore the souls of the monks; +and misery reached its climax in the summer at the news of the execution +at Tyburn of the Abbots of Jervaulx and Fountains, with other monks and +gentlemen. + +The final recital of the whole tragedy was delivered to them at the +mouth of a Religious from the Benedictine cell at Middlesborough who had +been released by the Visitors at his own request, but who had afterwards +repented and joined the rising soon after the outset; he had been +through most of the incidents, and then when failure was assured had +fled south in terror for his life, and was now on his way to the +Continent to take up his monastic vocation once more. + +The Prior was away on one of the journeys that he so frequently +undertook at this time, no man knew whither, or the ex-monk and rebel +would have been refused admittance; but the sub-Prior was persuaded to +take him in for a night, and he sat long in one of the parlours that +evening telling his story. + +Chris leaned against the wall and watched him as he talked with the +candle-light on his face. He was a stout middle-aged man in layman’s +dress, for he was not yet out of peril; he sat forward in his chair, +making preacher’s gestures as he spoke, and using well-chosen vivid +words. + +“They were gathered already when I joined them on their way to York; +there were nearly ten thousand of them on the road, with Aske at their +head. I have never set eyes on such a company! There was a troop of +gentlemen and their sons riding with Aske in front, all in armour; and +then the rabble behind with gentlemen again to their officers. The +common folk had pikes and hooks only; and some were in leather harness, +and some without; but they marched well and kept good order. They were +of all sorts: hairy men and boys; and miners from the North. There were +monks, too, and friars, I know not how many, that went with the army to +encourage them; and everywhere we went the women ran out of their homes +with food and drink, and prayed God to bless us; and the bells were rung +in the village churches. We slept as we could, some in houses, some in +churchyards and by the wayside, and as many of us as could get into the +churches heard mass each day. As many too as could make them, wore the +Five Wounds on a piece of stuff sewn on the arm. You would have said +that none could stand against us, so eager we were and full of faith.” + +“There was a song, was there not?” began one of the monks. + +“Yes, father. We sang it as we went. + + “Christ crucified! + For thy wounds wide + Us commons guide + Which pilgrims be! + Through God his grace + For to purchase + Old wealth and peace + Of the spiritualty! + +“You could hear it up and down the lines, sung with weeping and +shouting.” + +He described how they came to York, and how the Mayor was forced to +admit them. They stayed there a couple of days; and Aske published his +directions for all the ejected Religious to return to their houses. + +“I went to a little cell near by--I forget its name--to help some canons +to settle in again, whose friendship I had made. I had told them then +that my mind was to enter Religion once more, and they took me very +willingly. We got there at night. The roof was gone from the dormitory, +but we slept there for all that--such of us as could sleep--for I heard +one of them sobbing for joy as he lay there in his old corner under the +stars; and we sang mass in the morning, as well as we could. The priest +had an old tattered vestment that hardly hung on his shoulders; and +there was no cross but one that came from a pair of beads, and that we +hung over the altar. When I left them again, they were at their office +as before, and busy roofing the house with old timbers; for my lord +Cromwell had all the lead. And all their garden was trampled; but they +said they would do very well. The village-folk were their good friends, +and would bring them what they needed.” + +He described his journey to Doncaster; the furious excitement of the +villages he passed through, and the news that reached him hour after +hour as to the growing vastness of Aske’s forces. + +“There were thirty thousand, I heard, on the banks of the Don on one +side; for my lords Nevill and Lumley and others had ridden in with St. +Cuthbert his banner and arms, and five thousand men, besides those that +came in from all the country. And on the further side was my Lord +Shrewsbury for the King, with the Duke and his men. Master Aske had all +he could do to keep his men back from being at them. Some of the young +sparks were as terriers at a rat-hole. There was a parley held on the +bridge, for Norfolk knew well that he must gain time; and Aske sent his +demands to his Grace, and that was the mistake--” + +The man beat one hand into the other and looked round with a kindling +force-- + +“That was the mistake! He was too loyal for such work, and did not guess +at their craft. Well, while we waited there, our men began to make off; +their farms were wanting them, and their wives and the rest, and we +melted. Master Aske had to be everywhere at once, it was no fault of +his. My Lord Derby was marching up upon the houses again, and seeking to +drive the monks out once more. But there was not an act of violence done +by our men; not a penny-piece taken or a house burned. They were +peaceable folk, and asked no more than that their old religion should be +given back to them, and that they might worship God as they had always +done.” + +He went on to explain how the time had been wasted in those fruitless +negotiations, and how the force dwindled day by day. Various answers +were attempted by the King, containing both threats and promises, and in +these, as in all else the hand of Cromwell was evident. Finally, towards +the end of November, the insurgents gathered again for another meeting +with the King’s representatives at Doncaster, summoned by beacons on the +top of the high Yorkshire moors, and by the reversed pealing of the +church bells. + +“We had a parley among ourselves at Pomfret first, and had a great +to-do, though I saw little of it; and drew up our demands; and then set +out for Doncaster again. The duke was there, with the King’s pardon in +his hand, in the Whitefriars; and a promise that all should be as we +asked. So we went back to Pomfret, well-pleased, and the next day on St. +Thomas’ hill the herald read the pardon to us all; and we, poor fools, +thought that his Grace meant to keep his word--” + +The monk looked bitterly round, sneering with his white strong teeth set +together like a savage dog’s; and there was silence for a moment. The +Sub-Prior looked nervously round the faces of his subjects, for this was +treasonable talk to hear. + +Then the man went on. He himself it seemed had retired again to the +little cell where he had seen the canons settled in a few weeks +previously; and heard nothing of what was going forward; except that the +heralds were going about the country, publishing the King’s pardon to +all who had taken part in the Rebellion, and affixing it to the +market-cross in each town and village, with touching messages from the +King relating to the grief which he had felt on hearing that his dear +children believed such tales about him. + +Little by little, however, the discontent began to smoulder once more, +for the King’s pledges of restoration were not fulfilled; and Cromwell, +who was now recognised to be the inspirer of all the evil done against +Religion, remained as high as ever in the royal favour. Aske, who had +been to the King in person, and given him an account of all that had +taken place, now wrote to him that there was a danger of a further +rising if the delay continued, for there were no signs yet of the +promised free parliament being called at York. + +Then again disturbances had broken out. + +“I was at Hull,” said the monk, “with Sir Francis Bygod in January; but +we did nothing, and only lost our leader, and all the while Norfolk was +creeping up with his army. It was piteous to think what might not have +been done if we had not trusted his Grace; but ’twas no good, and I was +back again in the dales here and there, hiding for my life by April. +Everywhere ’twas the same; the monks were haled out again from their +houses, and men were hanged by the score. I cut down four myself near +Meux, and gave them Christian burial at night. One was a monk, and +hanged in his habit. But the worst of all was at York.” + +The man’s face twitched with emotion, and he passed his hand over his +mouth once or twice before continuing. + +“I did not dare to go into the court for fear I should be known; but I +stood outside in the crowd and watched them go in. There was a fellow +riding with Norfolk--a false knave of a man whom we had all learnt to +hate at Doncaster--for he was always jeering at us secretly and making +mischief when he could. I saw him with the duke before, when we went +into the Whitefriars for the pardon; and he stood there behind with the +look of a devil on his face; and now here he was again--” + +“His name, sir?” put in Dom Adrian. + +“Torridon, father, Torridon! He was a--” + +There was a sharp movement in the room, so that the monk stopped and +looked round him amazed. Chris felt the blood ebb from his heart and din +in his ears, and he swayed a little as he leaned against the wall. He +saw Dom Anthony lean forward and whisper to the stranger; and through +the haze that was before his eyes saw the other look at him sharply, +with a fallen jaw. + +Then the monk rose and made a little stiff inclination to Chris, +deferential and courteous, but with a kind of determined dignity in it +too. + +When Chris had recovered himself, the monk was deep in his story, but +Ralph had fallen out of it. + +“You would not believe it,” he was saying, “but on the very jury that +was to try Master Aske and Constable, there were empanelled their own +blood-relations; and that by the express intention of Norfolk. John Aske +was one of them, and some others who had to wives the sons of my Lord +Darcy and Sir Robert Constable. You see how it would be. If the +prisoners were found guilty, men would say that it must be so, for that +their own kin had condemned them; and if they were to be acquitted, then +these men themselves would be cast.” + +There again broke out a murmur from the listening faces, as the man +paused. + +“Well, they were cast, as you know, for not taking the King to be the +supreme head of the Church, and for endeavouring to force the King to +hold a parliament that he willed not. And I was at York again when +Master Aske was brought back from London to be hanged, and I saw it!” + +Again an uncontrollable emotion shook him; and he propped his face on +his hand as he ended his tale. + +“There were many of his friends there in the crowd, and scarcely one +dared to cry out, God save you, sir.... I dared not....” + +He gave one rending sob, and Chris felt his eyes prick with tears at the +sight of so much sorrow. It was piteous to see a brave man thinking +himself a coward. + +Dom Anthony leaned forward. + +“Thank you, father,” he said, though his voice was a little husky, “and +thank God that he died well. You have touched all our hearts.” + +“I was a hound,” sobbed the man, “a hound, that I did not cry out to him +and tell him that I loved him.” + +“No, no, father,” said the other tenderly, “you must not think so. You +must serve God well now, and pray for his soul.” + +The bell sounded out for Compline as he spoke, and the monks rose. + +“You will come into choir, father,” said the Sub-Prior. + +The man nodded, stood up, and followed him out. + +Chris was in a strange ferment as he stood in his stall that night. It +had been sad enough to hear of that gallant attempt to win back the old +liberties and the old Faith--that attempt that had been a success except +for the insurgents’ trust in their King--and of the death of the +leaders. + +But across the misery had pierced a more poignant grief, as he had +learnt how Ralph’s hand was in this too and had taken once more the +wrong side in God’s quarrel. But still he had no resentment; the +conflict had passed out of the personal plane into an higher, and he +thought of his brother as God’s enemy rather than his own. Would his +prayers then never prevail--the prayers that he speeded up in the smoke +of the great Sacrifice morning by morning for that zealous mistaken +soul? Or was it perhaps that that brother of his must go deeper yet, +before coming out to knowledge and pardon? + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE DESTRUCTION OF THE SEAL + + +The autumn drew in swiftly. The wet south-west wind blew over the downs +that lay between Lewes and the sea, and beat down the loose browning +leaves of the trees about the Priory. The grass in the cloister-garth +grew rank and dark with the constant rain that drove and dropped over +the high roofs. + +And meanwhile the tidings grew heavier still. + +After Michaelmas the King set to work in earnest. He had been checked by +the northern risings, and still paused to see whether the embers had +been wholly quenched; and then when it was evident that the North was as +submissive as the South, began again his business of gathering in the +wealth that was waiting. + +He started first in the North, under show of inflicting punishment for +the encouragement that the Religious had given to the late rebellions; +and one by one the great abbeys were tottering. Furness and Sawley had +already fallen, with Jervaulx and the other houses, and Holme Cultram +was placed under the care of a superior who could be trusted to hand +over his charge when called upon. + +But up to the present not many great houses had actually fallen, except +those which were supposed to have taken a share in the revolt; and owing +to the pains taken by the Visitors to contradict the report that the +King intended to lay his hands on the whole monastic property of +England, it was even hoped by a few sanguine souls that the large +houses might yet survive. + +There were hot discussions in the chapter at Lewes from time to time +during the year. The “Bishops’ Book,” issued by a committee of divines +and approved by the King, and containing a digest of the new Faith that +was being promulgated, arrived during the summer and was fiercely +debated; but so high ran the feeling that the Prior dropped the matter, +and the book was put away with other papers of the kind on an honourable +but little-used shelf. + +The acrimony in domestic affairs began to reach its climax in October, +when the prospects of the Priory’s own policy came up for discussion. + +Some maintained that they were safe, and that quietness and confidence +were their best security, and these had the support of the Prior; others +declared that the best hope lay in selling the possessions of the house +at a low price to some trustworthy man who would undertake to sell them +back again at only a small profit to himself when the storm was passed. + +The Prior rose in wrath when this suggestion was made. + +“Would you have me betray my King?” he cried. “I tell you I will have +none of it. It is not worthy of a monk to have such thoughts.” + +And he sat down and would hear no more, nor speak. + +There were whispered conferences after that among the others, as to what +his words meant. Surely there was nothing dishonourable in the device; +they only sought to save what was their own! And how would the King be +“betrayed” by such an action? + +They had an answer a fortnight later; and it took them wholly by +surprise. + +During the second week in November the Prior had held himself more +aloof than ever; only three or four of the monks, with the Sub-Prior +among them, were admitted to his cell, and they were there at all hours. +Two or three strangers too arrived on horseback, and were entertained by +the Prior in a private parlour. And then on the morning of the +fourteenth the explanation came. + +When the usual business of the chapter was done, the faults confessed +and penances given, and one or two small matters settled, the Prior, +instead of rising to give the signal to go, remained in his chair, his +head bent on to his hand. + +It was a dark morning, heavy and lowering; and from where Chris sat at +the lower end of the great chamber he could scarcely make out the +features of those who sat under the high window at the east; but as soon +as the Prior lifted his face and spoke, he knew by that tense strain of +the voice that something impended. + +“There is another matter,” said the Prior; and paused again. + +For a moment there was complete silence. The Sub-Prior leant a little +forward and was on the point of speaking, when his superior lifted his +head again and straightened himself in his chair. + +“It is this,” he said, and his voice rang hard and defiant, “it is this. +It is useless to think we can save ourselves. We are under suspicion, +and worse than suspicion. I have hoped, and prayed, and striven to know +God’s will; and I have talked with my Lord Cromwell not once or twice, +but often. And it is useless to resist any further.” + +His voice cracked with misery; but Chris saw him grip the bosses of his +chair-arms in an effort for self-control. His own heart began to sicken; +this was not frightened raving such as he had listened to before; it was +the speech of one who had been driven into decision, as a rat into a +corner. + +“I have talked with the Sub-Prior, and others; and they think with me in +this. I have kept it back from the rest, that they might serve God in +peace so long as was possible. But now I must tell you all, my sons, +that we must leave this place.” + +There was a hush of terrible tension. The monks had known that they were +threatened; they could not think otherwise with the news that came from +all parts, but they had not known that catastrophe was so imminent. An +old monk opposite Chris began to moan and mutter; but the Prior went on +immediately. + +“At least I think that we must leave. It may be otherwise, if God has +pity on us; I do not know; but we must be ready to leave, if it be His +will, and,--and to say so.” + +He was speaking in abrupt sentences, with pauses between, in which he +appeared to summon his resolution to speak again, and force out his +tale. There was plainly more behind too; and his ill-ease seemed to +deepen on him. + +“I wish no one to speak now,” he said. “Instead of the Lady-mass +to-morrow we shall sing mass of the Holy Ghost, and afterwards I shall +have more to say to you again. I do not desire any to hold speech with +any other, but to look into their own hearts and seek counsel of God +there.” + +He still sat a moment silent, then rose and gave the signal. + + * * * * * + +It was a strange day for Chris. He did not know what to think, but he +was certain that they had not yet been told all. The Prior’s silences +had been as pregnant as his words. There was something very close now +that would be revealed immediately, and meanwhile he must think out how +to meet it. + +The atmosphere seemed charged all day; the very buildings wore a strange +air, unfamiliar and menacing. The intimate bond between his soul and +them, knit by associations of prayer and effort, appeared unreal and +flimsy. He was tormented by doubtfulness; he could not understand on the +one side how it was possible to yield to the King, on the other how it +was possible to resist. No final decision could be made by him until he +had heard the minds of his fellows; and fortunately they would all speak +before him. He busied himself then with disentangling the strands of +motive, desire, fear and hope, and waited for the shaking loose of the +knot until he knew more. + +Mass of the Holy Ghost was sung next morning by the Prior himself in red +vestments; and Chris waited with expectant awe, remembering how the +Carthusians under like circumstances had been visited by God; but the +Host was uplifted and the bell rang; and there was nothing but the +candle-lit gloom of the choir about the altar, and the sigh of the wind +in the chapels behind. + +Then in the chapter-meeting the Prior told them all. + + * * * * * + +He reminded them how they had prayed that morning for guidance, and that +they must be fearless now in following it out. It was easy to be +reckless and call it faith, but prudence and reasonable common-sense +were attributes of the Christian no less than trust in God. They had not +to consider now what they would wish for themselves, but what God +intended for them so far as they could read it in the signs of the +times. + +“For myself,” he cried,--and Chris almost thought him sincere as he +spoke, so kindled was his face--“for myself I should ask no more than +to live and die in this place, as I had hoped. Every stone here is as +dear to me as to you, and I think more dear, for I have been in a +special sense the lord of it all; but I dare not think of that. We must +be ready to leave all willingly if God wills. We thought that we had +yielded all to follow Christ when we first set our necks here under His +sweet yoke; but I think He asks of us even more now; and that we should +go out from here even as we went out from our homes ten or twenty years +ago. We shall be no further from our God outside this place; and we may +be even nearer if we go out according to His will.” + +He seemed on fire with zeal and truth. His timid peevish air was gone, +and his delicate scholarly face was flushed as he spoke. Chris was +astonished, and more perplexed than ever. Was it then possible that +God’s will might lie in the direction he feared? + +“Now this is the matter which we have to consider,” went on the Prior +more quietly. “His Grace has sent to ask, through a private messenger +from my Lord Cromwell, whether we will yield up the priory. There is no +compulsion in the matter--” he paused significantly--“and his Grace +desires each to act according to his judgment and conscience, of--of his +own free will.” + +There was a dead silence. + +The news was almost expected by now. Through the months of anxiety each +monk had faced the probability of such tidings coming to him sooner or +later; and the last few days had brought expectation to its climax. Yet +it was hard to see the enemy face to face, and to know that there was no +possibility of resisting him finally. + +The Sub-Prior rose to his feet and began to speak, glancing as if for +corroboration to his superior from time to time. His mouth worked a +little at the close of each sentence. + +“My Lord Prior has shown us his own mind, and I am with him in the +matter. His Grace treats us like his own children; he wishes us to be +loving and obedient. But, as a father too, he has authority behind to +compel us to his will if we will not submit. And, as my Lord Prior said +yesterday, we do not know whether or no his Grace will not permit us to +remain here after all, if we are docile; or perhaps refound the priory +out of his own bounty. There is talk of the Chertsey monks going to the +London Charterhouse from Bisham where the King set them last year. But +we may be sure he will not do so with us if we resist his will now. I on +my part then am in favour of yielding up the house willingly, and +trusting ourselves to his Grace’s clemency.” + +There was again silence as he sat down; and a pause of a minute or two +before Dom Anthony rose. His ruddy face was troubled and perplexed; but +he spoke resolutely enough. + +He said that he could not understand why the matter had not been laid +before them earlier, that they might have had time to consider it. The +question was an extremely difficult one to the consciences of some of +them. On the one hand there was the peril of acquiescing in +sacrilege--the Prior twisted in his seat as he heard this--and on the +other of wilfully and petulantly throwing away their only opportunity of +saving their priory. He asked for time. + +Several more made speeches, some in favour of the proposal, and some +asking, as Dom Anthony had done, for further time for consideration. +They had no precedents, they said, on which to decide such a question, +for they understood that it was not on account of treason that they +were required to surrender the house and property. + +The Prior rose with a white face. + +“No, no,” he cried. “God forbid! That is over and done with. I--we have +made our peace with my Lord Cromwell in that affair.” + +“Then why,” asked Dom Anthony, “are we required to yield it?” + +The Prior glanced helplessly at him. + +“I--it is as a sign that the King is temporal lord of the land.” + +“We do not deny that,” said the other. + +“Some do,” said the Prior feebly. + +There was a little more discussion. Dom Anthony remarked that it was not +a matter of temporal but spiritual headship that was in question. To +meddle with the Religious Orders was to meddle with the Vicar of Christ +under whose special protection they were; and it seemed to him at least +a probable opinion, so far as he had had time to consider it, that to +yield, even in the hopes of saving their property ultimately, was to +acquiesce in the repudiation of the authority of Rome. + +And so it went on for an hour; and then as it grew late, the Prior rose +once more, and asked if any one had a word to say who had not yet +spoken. + +Chris had intended to speak, but all that he wished to ask had already +been stated by others; and he sat now silent, staring up at the Prior, +and down at the smooth boarded floor at his feet. He had not an idea +what to do. He was no theologian. + +Then the Prior unmasked his last gun. + +“As regards the matter of time for consideration, that is now passed. In +spite of what some have said we have had sufficient warning. All here +must have known that the choice would be laid before them, for months +past; it is now an answer that is required of us.” + +He paused a moment longer. His lips began to tremble, but he made a +strong effort and finished. + +“Master Petre will be here to-night, as my lord Cromwell’s +representative, and will sit in the chapter-house to-morrow to receive +the surrender.” + +Dom Anthony started to his feet. The Prior made a violent gesture for +silence, and then gave the signal to break up. + + * * * * * + +Again the bewildering day went past. The very discipline of the house +was a weakness in the defence of the surprised party. It was impossible +for them to meet and discuss the situation as they wished; and even the +small times of leisure seemed unusually occupied. Dom Anthony was busy +at the guest-house; one of the others who had spoken against the +proposal was sent off on a message by the Prior, and another was ordered +to assist the sacristan to clean the treasures in view of the Visitor’s +coming. + +Chris was not able to ask a word of advice from any of those whom he +thought to be in sympathy with him. + +He sat all day over his antiphonary, in the little carrel off the +cloister, and as he worked his mind toiled like a mill. + +He had progressed a long way with the work now, and was engaged on the +pages that contained the antiphons for Lent. The design was soberer +here; the angels that had rested among the green branches and early +roses of Septuagesima, thrusting here a trumpet and there a harp among +the leaves, had taken flight, and grave menacing creatures were in their +place. A jackal looked from behind the leafless trunk, a lion lifted +his toothed mouth to roar from a thicket of thorns, as they had lurked +and bellowed in the bleak wilderness above the Jordan fifteen hundred +years ago. They were gravely significant now, he thought; and scarcely +knowing what he did he set narrow human eyes in the lion’s face (for he +knew no better) and broadened the hanging jaws with a delicate line or +two. + +Then with a fierce impulse he crowned him, and surmounted the crown with +a cross. + +And all the while his mind toiled at the problem. There were three +things open to him on the morrow. Either he might refuse to sign the +surrender, and take whatever consequences might follow; or he might sign +it; and there were two processes of thought by which he might take that +action. By the first he would simply make an act of faith in his +superiors, and do what they did because they did it; by the second he +would sign it of his own responsibility because he decided to think that +by doing so he would be taking the best action for securing his own +monastic life. + +He considered these three. To refuse to sign almost inevitably involved +his ruin, and that not only, and not necessarily, in the worldly +sense; about that he sincerely believed he did not care; but it would +mean his exclusion from any concession that the King might afterwards +make. He certainly would not be allowed, under any circumstances, +to remain in the home of his profession; and if the community was +shifted he would not be allowed to go with them. As regards the second +alternative he wondered whether it was possible to shift responsibility +in that manner; as regards the third, he knew that he had very little +capability in any case of foreseeing the course that events would take. + +Then he turned it all over again, and considered the arguments for +each course. His superiors were set over him by God; it was rash to +set himself against them except in matters of the plainest conscience. +Again it was cowardly to shelter himself behind this plea and so avoid +responsibility. Lastly, he was bound to judge for himself. + +The arguments twisted and turned as bewilderingly as the twining +branches of his design; and behind each by which he might climb to +decision lurked a beast. He felt helpless and dazed by the storm of +conflicting motives. + +As he bent over his work he prayed for light, but the question seemed +more tangled than before; the hours were creeping in; by to-morrow he +must decide. + +Then the memory of the Prior’s advice to him once before came back to +his mind; this was the kind of thing, he told himself, that he must +leave to God, his own judgment was too coarse an instrument; he must +wait for a clear supernatural impulse; and as he thought of it he laid +his pencil down, dropped on to his knees, and commended it all to God, +to the Mother of God, St. Pancras, St. Peter and St. Paul. Even as he +did it, the burden lifted and he knew that he would know, when the time +came. + + * * * * * + +Dr. Petre came that night, but Chris saw no more of him than his back as +he went up the cloister with Dom Anthony to the Prior’s chamber. The +Prior was not at supper, and his seat was empty in the dim refectory. + +Neither was he at Compline; and it was with the knowledge that +Cromwell’s man and their own Superior were together in conference, that +the monks went up the dormitory stairs that night. + +But he was in his place at the chapter-mass next morning, though he +spoke to no one, and disappeared immediately afterwards. + +Then at the appointed time the monks assembled in the chapter-house. + + * * * * * + +As Chris came in he lifted his eyes, and saw that the room was arrayed +much as it had been at the visit of Dr. Layton and Ralph. A great table, +heaped with books and papers, stood at the upper end immediately below +the dais, and a couple of secretaries were there, sharp-looking men, +seated at either end and busy with documents. + +The Prior was in his place in the shadow and was leaning over and +talking to a man who sat beside him. Chris could make out little of the +latter except that he seemed to be a sort of lawyer or clerk, and was +dressed in a dark gown and cap. He was turning over the leaves of a book +as the Prior talked, and nodded his head assentingly from time to time. + +When all the monks were seated, there was still a pause. It was +strangely unlike the scene of a tragedy, there in that dark grave room +with the quiet faces downcast round the walls, and the hands hidden in +the cowl-sleeves. And even on the deeper plane it all seemed very +correct and legal. There was the representative of the King, a capable +learned man, with all the indications of law and order round him, and +his two secretaries to endorse or check his actions. There too was the +Community, gathered to do business in the manner prescribed by the Rule, +with the deeds of foundation before their eyes, and the great brass +convent seal on the table. There was not a hint of bullying or +compulsion; these monks were asked merely to sign a paper if they so +desired it. Each was to act for himself; there was to be no over-riding +of individual privileges, or signing away another’s conscience. + +Nothing could have been arranged more peaceably. + +And yet to every man’s mind that was present the sedate room was black +with horror. The majesty and terror of the King’s will brooded in the +air; nameless dangers looked in at the high windows and into every man’s +face; the quiet lawyer-like men were ministers of fearful vengeance; the +very pens, ink and paper that lay there so innocently were sacraments of +death or life. + +The Prior ceased his whispering presently, glanced round to see if all +were in their places, and then stood up. + +His voice was perfectly natural as he told them that this was Dr. Petre, +come down from Lord Cromwell to offer them an opportunity of showing +their trust and love towards their King by surrendering to his +discretion the buildings and property that they held. No man was to be +compelled to sign; it must be perfectly voluntary on their part; his +Grace wished to force no conscience to do that which it repudiated. For +his own part, he said, he was going to sign with a glad heart. The King +had shown his clemency in a hundred ways, and to that clemency he +trusted. + +Then he sat down; and Chris marvelled at his self-control. + +Dr. Petre stood up, and looked round for a moment before opening his +mouth; then he put his two hands on the table before him, dropped his +eyes and began his speech. + +He endorsed first what the Prior had said, and congratulated all there +on possessing such a superior. It was a great happiness, he said, to +deal with men who showed themselves so reasonable and so loyal. Some he +had had to do with had not been so--and--and of course their +stubbornness had brought its own penalty. But of that he did not wish +to speak. On the other hand those who had shown themselves true +subjects of his Grace had already found their reward. He had great +pleasure in announcing to them that what the Prior had said to them a +day or two before was true; and that their brethren in religion of +Chertsey Abbey, who had been moved to Bisham last year, were to go to +the London Charterhouse in less than a month. The papers were made out; +he had assisted in their drawing up. + +He spoke in a quiet restrained voice, and with an appearance of great +deference; there was not the shadow of a bluster even when he referred +to the penalties of stubbornness; it was very unlike the hot bullying +arrogance of Dr. Layton. Then he ended-- + +“And so, reverend fathers, the choice is in your hands. His Grace will +use no compulsion. You will hear presently that the terms of surrender +are explicit in that point. He will not force one man to sign who is not +convinced that he can best serve his King and himself by doing so. It +would go sorely against his heart if he thought that he had been the +means of making the lowest of his subjects to act contrary to the +conscience that God has given him. My Lord Prior, I will beg of you to +read the terms of surrender.” + +The paper was read, and it was as it had been described. Again and again +it was repeated in various phrases that the property was yielded of +free-will. It was impossible to find in it even the hint of a threat. +The properties in question were enumerated in the minutest manner, and +the list included all the rights of the priory over the Cluniac cell of +Castleacre. + +The Prior laid the paper down, and looked at Dr. Petre. + +The Commissioner rose from his seat, taking the paper as he did so, and +so stood a moment. + +“You see, reverend fathers, that it is as I told you. I understand that +you have already considered the matter, so that there is no more to be +said.” + +He stepped down from the dais and passed round to the further side of +the table. One of the secretaries pushed an ink-horn and a couple of +quills across to him. + +“My Lord Prior,” said Dr. Petre, with a slight bow. “If you are willing +to sign this, I will beg of you to do so; and after that to call up your +subjects.” + +He laid the paper down. The Prior stepped briskly out of his seat, and +passed round the table. + +Chris watched his back, the thin lawyer beside him indicating the place +for the name; and listened as in a dream to the scratching of the pen. +He himself still did not know what he would do. If all signed--? + +The Prior stepped back, and Chris caught a glimpse of a white face that +smiled terribly. + +The Sub-Prior stepped down at a sign from his Superior; and then one by +one the monks came out. + +Chris’s heart sickened as he watched; and then stood still on a sudden +in desperate hope, for opposite to him Dom Anthony sat steady, his head +on his hand, and made no movement when it was his turn to come out. +Chris saw the Prior look at the monk, and a spasm of emotion went over +his face. + +“Dom Anthony,” he said. + +The monk lifted his face, and it was smiling too. + +“I cannot sign, My Lord Prior.” + +Then the veils fell, and decision flashed on Chris’ soul. + +He heard the pulse drumming in his ears, and his wet hands slipped one +in the other as he gripped them together, but he made no sign till all +the others had gone up. Then he looked up at the Prior. + +It seemed an eternity before the Prior looked at him and nodded; and he +could make no answering sign. + +Then he heard his name called, and with a great effort he answered; his +voice seemed not his own in his ears. He repeated Dom Anthony’s words. + +“I cannot sign, My Lord Prior.” + +Then he sat back with closed eyes and waited. + +He heard movements about him, steps, the crackle of parchment, and at +last Dr. Petre’s voice; but he scarcely understood what was said. There +was but one thought dinning in his brain, and that was that he had +refused, and thrown his defiance down before the King--that terrible man +whom he had seen in his barge on the river, with the narrow eyes, the +pursed mouth and the great jowl, as he sat by the woman he called his +wife--that woman who now-- + +Chris shivered, opened his eyes, and sense came back. + +Dr. Petre was just ending his speech. He was congratulating the +Community on their reasonableness and loyalty. By an overwhelming +majority they had decided to trust the King, and they would not find his +grace unmindful of that. As for those who had not signed he could say +nothing but that they had used the liberty that his Grace had given +them. Whether they had used it rightly was no business of his. + +Then he turned to the Prior. + +“The seal then, My Lord Prior. I think that is the next matter.” + +The Prior rose and lifted it from the table. Chris caught the gleam of +the brass and silver of the ponderous precious thing in his hand--the +symbol of their corporate existence--engraved, as he knew, with the four +patrons of the house, the cliff, the running water of the Ouse, and the +rhyming prayer to St. Pancras. + +The Prior handed it to the Commissioner, who took it, and stood there a +moment weighing it in his hand. + +“A hammer,” he said. + +One of the secretaries rose, and drew from beneath the table a sheet of +metal and a sharp hammer; he handed both to Dr. Petre. + +Chris watched, fascinated with something very like terror, his throat +contracted in a sudden spasm, as he saw the Commissioner place the metal +in the solid table before him, and then, holding the seal sideways, lift +the hammer in his right hand. + +Then blow after blow began to echo in the rafters overhead. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE SINKING SHIP + + +Dr. Petre had come and gone, and to all appearance the priory was as +before. He had not taken a jewel or a fragment of stuff; he had +congratulated the sacristan on the beauty and order of his treasures, +and had bidden him guard them carefully, for that there were knaves +abroad who professed themselves as authorised by the King to seize +monastic possessions, which they sold for their own profit. The offices +continued to be sung day and night, and the masses every morning; and +the poor were fed regularly at the gate. + +But across the corporate life had passed a subtle change, analogous to +that which comes to the body of a man. Legal death had taken place +already; the unity of life and consciousness existed no more; the seal +was defaced; they could no longer sign a document except as individuals. +Now the _rigor mortis_ would set in little by little until somatic death +too had been consummated, and the units which had made up the organism +had ceased to bear any relation one to the other. + +But until after Christmas there was no further development; and the +Feast was observed as usual, and with the full complement of monks. At +the midnight mass there was a larger congregation than for many months, +and the confessions and communions also slightly increased. It was a +symptom, as Chris very plainly perceived, of the manner in which the +shadow of the King reached even to the remotest details of the life of +the country. The priory was now, as it were, enveloped in the royal +protection, and the people responded accordingly. + +There had come no hint from headquarters as to the ultimate fate of the +house; and some even began to hope that the half-promise of a +re-foundation would be fulfilled. Neither had any mark of disapproval +arrived as to the refusal to sign on the part of the two monks; but +although nothing further was said in conversation or at chapter, there +was a consciousness in the minds of both Dom Anthony and Chris that a +wall had arisen between them and the rest. Talk in the cloister was apt +to flag when either approached; and the Prior never spoke a word to them +beyond what was absolutely necessary. + +Then, about the middle of January the last process began to be enacted. + + * * * * * + +One morning the Prior’s place in church was empty. + +He was accustomed to disappear silently, and no astonishment was caused +on this occasion; but at Compline the same night the Sub-Prior too was +gone. + +This was an unheard-of state of things, but all except the guest-master +and Chris seemed to take it as a matter of course; and no word was +spoken. + +After the chapter on the next morning Dom Anthony made a sign to Chris +as he passed him in the cloister, and the two went out together into the +clear morning-sunshine of the outer court. + +Dom Anthony glanced behind him to see that no one was following, and +then turned to the other. + +“They are both gone,” he said, “and others are going. Dom Bernard is +getting his things together. I saw them under his bed last night.” + +Chris stared at him, mute and terrified. + +“What are we to do, Dom Anthony?” + +“We can do nothing. We must stay. Remember that we are the only two who +have any rights here now, before God.” + +There was silence a moment. Chris glanced at the other, and was +reassured by the steady look on his ruddy face. + +“I will stay, Dom Anthony,” he said softly. + +The other looked at him tenderly. + +“God bless you, brother!” he said. + +That night Dom Bernard and another were gone. And still the others made +no sign or comment; and it was not until yet another pair had gone that +Dom Anthony spoke plainly. + +He was now the senior monk in the house; and it was his place to direct +the business of the chapter. When the formal proceedings were over he +stood up fearlessly. + +“You cannot hide it longer,” he said. “I have known for some while what +was impending.” He glanced round at the empty stalls, and his face +flushed with sudden anger: “For God’s sake, get you gone, you who mean +to go; and let us who are steadfast serve our Lord in peace.” + +Chris looked along the few faces that were left; but they were downcast +and sedate, and showed no sign of emotion. + +Dom Anthony waited a moment longer, and then gave the signal to depart. +By a week later the two were left alone. + + * * * * * + +It was very strange to be there, in the vast house and church, and to +live the old life now stripped of three-fourths of its meaning; but they +did not allow one detail to suffer that it was possible to preserve. The +_opus Dei_ was punctually done, and God was served in psalmody. At the +proper hours the two priests met in the cloister, cowled and in their +choir-shoes, and walked through to the empty stalls; and there, one on +either side, each answered the other, bowed together at the _Gloria_, +confessed and absolved alternately. Two masses were said each day in the +huge lonely church, one at the high altar and the other at our Lady’s, +and each monk served the other. In the refectory one read from the +pulpit as the other sat at the table; and the usual forms were observed +with the minutest care. In the chapter each morning they met for mutual +confession and accusation; and in the times between the exercises and +meals each worked feverishly at the details that alone made the life +possible. + +They were assisted in this by two paid servants, who were sent to them +by Chris’s father, for both the lay-brothers and the servants had gone +with the rest; and the treasurer had disappeared with the money. + +Chris had written to Sir James the day that the last monk had gone, +telling him the state of affairs, and how the larder was almost empty; +and by the next evening the servants had arrived with money and +provisions; and a letter from Sir James written from a sick-bed, saying +that he was unable to come for the present, for he had taken the fever, +and that Morris would not leave him, but expressing a hope that he would +come soon in person, and that Morris should be sent in a few days. The +latter ended with passionate approval of his son’s action. + +“God bless and reward you, dear lad!” he had written. “I cannot tell you +the joy that it is to my heart to know that you are faithful. It cannot +be for long; but whether it is for long and short, you shall have my +prayers and blessings; and please God, my poor presence too after a few +days. May our Lady and your holy patron intercede for you both who are +so worthy of their protection!” + + * * * * * + +At the end of the second week in March Mr. Morris arrived. + +Chris was taking the air in the court shortly before sunset, after a +hard day’s work in church. The land was beginning to stir with the +resurrection-life of spring; and the hills set round the town had that +faint flush of indescribable colour that tinges slopes of grass as the +sleeping sap begins to stir. The elm-trees in the court were hazy with +growth as the buds fattened at the end of every twig, and a group of +daffodils here and there were beginning to burst their sheaths of gold. +There on the little lawn before the guest-house were half a dozen white +and lavender patches of colour that showed where the crocuses would star +the grass presently; and from the high west front of the immense church, +and from beneath the eaves of the offices to the right the birds were +practising the snatches of song that would break out with full melody a +month or two later. + +In spite of all that threatened, Chris was in an ecstasy of happiness. +It rushed down on him, overwhelmed and enveloped him; for he knew now +that he had been faithful. The flood of praise in the church had +dwindled to a thread; but it was still the _opus Dei_, though it flowed +but from two hearts; and the pulse of the heavenly sacrifice still +throbbed morning by morning, and the Divine Presence still burned as +unceasingly as the lamp that beaconed it, in the church that was now all +but empty of its ministers. There were times when the joy that was in +his heart trembled into tears, as when last night he and his friend had +sung the song to Mary; and the contrast between the two poor voices, +and the roar of petition that had filled the great vaulting a year +before, had suddenly torn his heart in two. + +But now the poignant sorrow had gone again; and as he walked here alone +on this March evening, with the steady hills about him and the flushing +sky overhead, and the sweet life quickening in the grass at his feet, an +extraordinary peace flooded his soul. + +There came a knocking at the gate, and the jangle of a bell; and he went +across quickly and unbarred the door. + +Mr. Morris was there on horseback, a couple of saddlebags strapped to +his beast; and a little group of loungers stood behind. + +Chris smiled with delight, and threw the door wide. + +The servant saluted him and then turned to the group behind. + +“You have no authority,” he said, “as to my going in.” + +Then he rode through; and Chris barred the gate behind him, glancing as +he did so at the curious faces that stared silently. + +Mr. Morris said nothing till he had led his horse into the stable. Then +he explained. + +“One of the fellows told me, sir, that this was the King’s house now; +and that I had no business here.” + +Chris smiled again. + +“I know we are watched,” he said, “the servants are questioned each time +they set foot outside.” + +Mr. Morris pursed his lips. + +“How long shall you be here, sir?” he asked. + +“Until we are turned out,” said Chris. + + * * * * * + +It was true, as he had said, that the house was watched. Ever since the +last monk had left there had been a man or two at the gate, another +outside the church-door that opened towards the town; and another yet +again beyond the stream to the south of the priory-buildings. Dom +Anthony had told him what it meant. It was that the authorities had no +objection to the two monks keeping the place until it could be dealt +with, but were determined that nothing should pass out. It had not been +worthwhile to send in a caretaker, for all the valuables had been +removed either by the Visitors or by the Prior when he went at night. +There were only two sets of second-best altar vessels left, and a few +other comparatively worthless utensils for the use of the church and +kitchen. The great relics and the jewelled treasures had gone long +before. Chris had wondered a little at the house being disregarded for +so long; but the other monk had reminded him that such things as lead +and brass and bells were beyond the power of two men to move, and could +keep very well until other more pressing business had been despatched +elsewhere. + +Mr. Morris gave him news of his father. It had not been the true fever +after all, and he would soon be here; in at any rate a week or two. As +regarded other news, there was no tidings of Mr. Ralph except that he +was very busy. Mistress Margaret was at home; no notice seemed to have +been taken of her when she had been turned out with the rest at the +dissolution of her convent. + +It was very pleasant to see that familiar face about the cloister and +refectory; or now and again, when work was done, looking up from beyond +the screen as the monks came in by the sacristy door. Once or twice on +dark evenings when terror began to push through the rampart of the will +that Chris had raised up, it was reassuring too to know that Morris was +there, for he bore with him, as old servants do, an atmosphere of home +and security, and he carried himself as well with a wonderful +naturalness, as if the relief of beleaguered monks were as ordinary a +duty as the cleaning of plate. + +March was half over now; and still no sign had come from the world +outside. There were no guests either to bring tidings, for the priory +was a marked place and it was well not to show or receive kindliness in +its regard. + +Within, the tension of nerves grew acute. Chris was conscious of a +deepening exaltation, but it was backed by horror. He found himself now +smiling with an irrepressible internal joy, now twitching with +apprehension, starting at sudden noises, and terrified at loneliness. +Dom Anthony too grew graver still; and would take his arm sometimes and +walk with him, and tell him tales, and watch him with tender eyes. But +in him, as in the younger monk, the strain tightened every day. + + * * * * * + +They were singing Compline together one evening with tired, overstrained +voices, for they had determined not to relax any of the chant until it +was necessary. Mr. Morris was behind them at a chair set beyond the +screen; and there were no others present in church. + +The choir was perfectly dark (for they knew the office by heart) except +for a glimmer from the sacristy door where a lamp burned within to light +them to bed. Chris’s thoughts had fled back to that summer evening long +ago when he had knelt far down in the nave and watched the serried line +of the black-hooded soldiers of God, and listened to the tramp of the +psalmody, and longed to be of their company. Now the gallant regiment +had dwindled to two, of which he was one, and the guest-master that had +received him and encouraged him, the other. + +Dom Anthony was the officiant this evening, and had just sung lustily +out in the dark that God was about them with His shield, that they need +fear no nightly terror. + +The movement flagged for a moment, for Chris was not attending; Mr. +Morris’s voice began alone, _A sagitta volante_--and then stopped +abruptly as he realised that he was singing by himself; and +simultaneously came a sharp little crash from the dark altar that rose +up in the gloom in front. + +A sort of sobbing breath broke from Chris at the sudden noise, and he +gripped his hands together. + +In a moment Dom Anthony had taken up the verse. + +_A sagitta volante_--“From the arrow that flieth by day, from the thing +that walketh in darkness--” Chris recovered himself; and the office +passed on. + +As the two passed out together towards the door, Dom Anthony went +forward up the steps; and Chris waited, and watched him stoop and pass +his hands over the floor. Then he straightened himself, came down the +steps and went before Chris into the sacristy. + +Under the lamp he stopped, and lifted what he carried to the light. It +was the little ivory crucifix that he had hung there a few weeks ago +when the last cross of precious metal had disappeared with the +Sub-Prior. It was cracked across the body of the figure now, and one of +the arms was detached at the shoulder and swung free on the nail through +the hand. + +Dom Anthony looked at it, turned and looked at Chris; and without a word +the two passed out into the cloister and turned up the dormitory stairs. +To both of them it was a sign that the end was at hand. + + * * * * * + +On the following afternoon Mr. Morris ran in to Chris’s carrel, and +found him putting the antiphonary and his implements up into a parcel. + +“Master Christopher,” he said, “Sir James and Sir Nicholas are come.” + +As he hurried out of the cloister he saw the horses standing there, +spent with fast travelling, and the two riders at their heads, with the +dust on their boots, and their clothes disordered. They remained +motionless as the monk came towards them; but he saw that his father’s +face was working and that his eyes were wide and anxious. + +“Thank God,” said the old man softly. “I am in time. They are coming +to-night, Chris.” But there was a questioning look on his face. + +Chris looked at him. + +“Will you take the horses?” said his father again. “Nick and I are +safe.” + +Chris still stared bewildered. Then he understood; and with +understanding came decision. + +“No, father,” he said. + +The old man’s face broke up into lines of emotion. + +“Are you sure, my son?” + +Chris nodded steadily. + +“Then we will all be together,” said Sir James; and he turned to lead +his horse to the stable. + + * * * * * + +There was a little council held in the guest-house a few minutes later. +Dom Anthony hurried to it, his habit splashed with whitewash, for he had +been cleaning the dormitory, and the four sat down together. + +It seemed that Nicholas had ridden over from Great Keynes to Overfield +earlier in the afternoon, and had brought the news that a company of men +had passed through the village an hour before, and that one of them had +asked which turn to take to Lewes. Sir Nicholas had ridden after them +and enquired their business, and had gathered that they were bound for +the priory, and he then turned his horse and made off to Overfield. His +horse was spent when he arrived there; but he had changed horses and +came on immediately with Sir James, to warn the monks of the approach of +the men, and to give them an opportunity of making their escape if they +thought it necessary. + +“Who were the leaders?” asked the elder monk. + +Nicholas shook his head. + +“They were in front; I dared not ride up.” + +But his sturdy face looked troubled as he answered, and Chris saw his +father’s lips tighten. Dom Anthony drummed softly on the table. + +“There is nothing to be done,” he said. “We wait till we are cast out.” + +“You cannot refuse admittance?” questioned Sir James. + +“But we shall do so,” said the other tranquilly; “at least we shall not +open.” + +“But they will batter the door down.” + +“Certainly,” said the monk. + +“And then?” + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +“I suppose they will put us out.” + +There was absolutely nothing to be done. It was absurd to dream of more +than formal resistance. Up in the North in more than one abbey the +inmates had armed themselves, and faced the spoilers grimly on the +village green; but that was where the whole country side was with them, +and here it was otherwise. + +They talked a few minutes longer, and decided that they would neither +open nor resist. The two monks were determined to remain there until +they were actually cast out; and then the responsibility would rest on +other shoulders than theirs. + +It was certain of course that by this time to-morrow at the latest they +would have been expelled; and it was arranged that the two monks should +ride back to Overfield, if they were personally unmolested, and remain +there until further plans were decided upon. + +The four knew of course that there was a grave risk in provoking the +authorities any further, but it was a risk that the two Religious were +determined to run. + +They broke up presently; Mr. Morris came upstairs to tell them that food +was ready in one of the parlours off the cloister; and the two laymen +went off with him, while the monks went to sing vespers for the last +time. + + * * * * * + +An hour or two later the two were in the refectory at supper. The +evening was drawing in, and the light in the tall windows was fading. +Opposite where Chris sat (for Dom Anthony was reading aloud from the +pulpit), a row of coats burned in the glass, and he ran his eyes over +them. They had been set there, he remembered, soon after his own coming +to the place; the records had been searched, and the arms of every prior +copied and emblazoned in the panes. There they all were; from Lanzo of +five centuries ago, whose arms were conjectural, down to Robert Crowham, +who had forsaken his trust; telling the long tale of prelates and +monastic life, from the beginning to the close. He looked round beyond +the circle of light cast by his own candle, and the place seemed full of +ghosts and presences to his fancy. The pale oak panelling glimmered +along the walls above the empty seats, from the Prior’s to the left, +over which the dusky fresco of the Majesty of Christ grew darker still +as the light faded, down to the pulpit opposite where Dom Anthony’s +grave ruddy face with downcast eyes stood out vivid in the candlelight. +Ah! surely there was a cloud of witnesses now, a host of faces looking +down from the black rafters overhead, and through the glimmering +panes,--the faces of those who had eaten here with the same sacramental +dignity and graciousness that these two survivors used. It was +impossible to feel lonely in this stately house, saturated with holy +life; and with a thrill at his heart he remembered how Dom Anthony had +once whispered to him at the beginning of the troubles, that if others +held their peace the very stones should cry out; and that God was able +of those stones to raise up children to His praise.... + +There was a sound of brisk, hurrying footsteps in the cloister outside, +Dom Anthony ceased his reading with his finger on the place, and the +eyes of the two monks met. + +The door was opened abruptly, and Morris stood there. + +“My master has sent me, sir,” he said. “They are coming.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE LAST STAND + + +The court outside had deepened into shadows as they came out; but +overhead the sky still glowed faintly luminous in a tender translucent +green. The evening star shone out clear and tranquil opposite them in +the west. + +There were three figures standing at the foot of the steps that led down +from the cloister; one of the servants with the two gentlemen; and as +Chris pushed forward quickly his father turned and lifted his finger for +silence. + +The town lay away to the right; and over the wall that joined the west +end of the church to the gatehouse, there were a few lights +visible--windows here and there just illuminated. + +For the first moment Chris thought there had been a mistake; he had +expected a clamour at the gate, a jangling of the bell. Then as he +listened he knew that it was no false alarm. + +Across the wall, from the direction of the hills that showed dimly +against the evening sky, there came a murmur, growing as he listened. +The roads were hard from lack of rain, and he could distinguish the +sound of horses, a great company; but rising above this was a dull roar +of voices. Every moment it waxed, died once or twice, then sounded out +nearer and louder. There was a barking of dogs, the cries of children, +and now and again the snatch of a song or a shouted word or two. + +Of the group on the steps within not one stirred, except when Sir James +slowly lowered his upraised hand; and so they waited. + +The company was drawing nearer now; and Chris calculated that they must +be coming down the steep road that led from the town; and even as he +thought it he heard the sound of hoofs on the bridge that crossed the +Winterbourne. + +Dom Anthony pushed by him. + +“To the gate,” he said, and went down the step and across the court +followed by the others. As they went the clamour grew loud and near in +the road outside; and a ruddy light shone on the projecting turret of +the gateway. + +Chris was conscious of extraordinary coolness now that the peril was on +him; and he stared up at the studded oak doors, at the wicket cut in one +of the leaves, and the sliding panel that covered the grill, with little +thought but that of conjecture as to how long the destruction of the +gate would take. The others, too, though he was scarcely aware of their +presence, were silent and rigid at his side, as Dom Anthony stepped up +to the closed grill and waited there for the summons. + +It came almost immediately. + +There was a great crescendo of sound as the party turned the corner, and +a flare of light shone under the gate; then the sound of loud talking, a +silence of the hoofs; and a sudden jangle on the bell overhead. + +The monk turned from the grill and lifted his hand. + +Then again the talking grew loud, as the mob swept round the corner +after the horses. + +Still all was silent within. Chris felt his father’s hand seek his own a +moment, and grip it; and then above the gabbling clamour a voice spoke +distinctly outside. + +“Have the rats run, then?” + +The bell danced again over their heads; and there was a clatter of raps +on the huge door. + +Dom Anthony slid back the shutter. + + * * * * * + +For a moment it was not noticed outside, for the entry was dark. Chris +could catch a glimpse on either side of the monk’s head of a flare of +light, but no more. + +Then the same voice spoke again, and with something of a foreign accent. + +“You are there, then; make haste and open.” + +Another voice shouted authoritatively for silence; and the clamour of +tongues died. + +Dom Anthony waited until all was quiet, and then answered steadily. + +“Who are you?” + +There was an oath; the tumult began again, but hushed immediately, as +the same voice that had called for admittance shouted aloud-- + +“Open, I tell you, you bloody monk! We come from the King.” + +“Why do you come?” + +A gabble of fierce tongues broke out; Chris pressed up to Dom Anthony’s +back, and looked out. The space was very narrow, and he could not see +much more than a man’s leg across a saddle, the brown shoulder of a +horse in front, and a smoky haze beyond and over the horse’s back. The +leg shifted a little as he watched, as if the rider turned; and then +again the voice pealed out above the tumult. + +“Will you open, sir, for the last time?” + +“I will not,” shouted the monk through the grill. “You are nothing +but--” then he dashed the shutter into its place as a stick struck +fiercely at the bars. + +“Back to the cloister,” he said. + +The roar outside was tremendous as the six went back across the empty +court; but it fell to a sinister silence as an order or two was shouted +outside; and then again swelled with an excited note in it, as the first +crash sounded on the panels. + +Chris looked at his father as they stood again on the steps fifty yards +away. The old man was standing rigid, his hands at his sides, staring +out towards the arch of the gateway that now thundered like a drum; and +his lips were moving. Once he caught his breath as a voice shouted above +the din outside, and half turned to his son, his hand uplifted as if for +silence. Then again the voice pealed, and Sir James faced round and +stared into Chris’s eyes. But neither spoke a word. + +Dom Anthony, who was standing a yard or two in front, turned presently +as the sound of splintering began to be mingled with the reverberations, +and came towards them. His square, full face was steady and alert, and +he spoke with a sharp decision. + +“You and Sir Nicholas, sir, had best be within. My place will be here; +they will be in immediately.” + +His words were perfectly distinct here in the open air in spite of the +uproar from the gate. + +There was an indignant burst from the young squire. + +“No, no, father; I shall not stir from here.” + +The monk looked at him; but said no more and turned round. + +A sedate voice spoke from the dark doorway behind. + +“John and I have fetched out a table or two, father; we can brace this +door--” + +Dom Anthony turned again. + +“We shall not resist further,” he said. + +Then they were silent, for they were helpless. There was nothing to be +done but to stand there and listen to the din, to the crash that +splintered more every moment in the cracked woodwork, and to watch the +high wall and turret solemn and strong against the stars, and bright +here and there at the edges with the light from the torches beneath. The +guest-house opposite them was dark, except for one window in the upper +floor that glowed and faded with the light of the fire that had been +kindled within an hour or two before. + +Sir James took his son suddenly by the arm. + +“And you, Chris--” he said. + +“I shall stay here, father.” + +There was a rending thunder from the gate; the wicket reeled in and +fell, and in a moment through the flimsy opening had sprung the figure +of a man. They could see him plainly as he stood there in the light of +the torches, a tall upright figure, a feathered hat on his head, and a +riding cane in his hand. + +The noise was indescribable outside as men fought to get through; there +was one scream of pain, the plunging of a horse, and then a loud steady +roar drowning all else. + +The oblong patch of light was darkened immediately, as another man +sprang through, and then another and another; then a pause--then the +bright flare of a torch shone in the opening; and a moment later a +fellow carrying a flambeau had made his way through. + +The whole space under the arch was now illuminated. Overhead the plain +mouldings shone out and faded as the torch swayed; every brick of the +walls was visible, and the studs and bars of the huge doors. + +Chris had sprung forward by an uncontrollable impulse as the wicket fell +in; and the two monks were now standing motionless on the floor of the +court, side by side, in their black habits and scapulars, hooded and +girded, with the two gentlemen and the servants on the steps behind. + +Chris saw the leaders come together under the arch, as the whole gate +began to groan and bulge under the pressure of the crowd; and a moment +later he caught the flash of steel as the long rapiers whisked out. + +Then above the baying he heard a fierce authoritative voice scream out +an order, and saw that one of the gentlemen in front was at the door, +his rapier protruded before him; and understood the manœuvre. It was +necessary that the mad crowd should be kept back. + +The tumult died and became a murmur; and then one by one a file of +figures came through. In the hand of each was an instrument of some +kind, a pick or a bludgeon; and it was evident that it was these who had +broken in the gate. + +Chris counted them mechanically as they streamed through. There seemed +to be a dozen or so. + +Then again the man who had guarded the door as they came through slipped +back through the opening; and they heard his voice beginning to harangue +the mob. + +But a moment later they had ceased to regard him; for from the archway, +with the torch-bearer beside him, advanced the tall man with the +riding-cane who had been the first to enter; and as he emerged into the +court Chris recognised his brother. + + * * * * * + +He was in a plain rich riding-suit with great boots and plumed hat. He +walked with an easy air as if certain of himself, and neither quickened +nor decreased his pace as he saw the monks and the gentlemen standing +there. + +He halted a couple of yards from them, and Chris saw that his face was +as assured as his gait. His thin lips were tight and firm, and his eyes +with a kind of insolent irony looked up and down the figures of the +monks. There was not the faintest sign of recognition in them. + +“You have given us a great deal of labour,” he said, “and to no purpose. +We shall have to report it all to my Lord Cromwell. I understand that +you were the two who refused to sign the surrender. It was the act of +fools, like this last. I have no authority to take you, so you had best +be gone.” + +Dom Anthony answered him in an equally steady voice. + +“We are ready to go now,” he said. “You understand we have yielded to +nothing but force.” + +Ralph’s lips writhed in a smile. + +“Oh! if that pleases you,” he said. “Well, then--” + +He took a little step aside, and made a movement towards the gate where +there sounded out still an angry hum beneath the shouting voice that was +addressing them. + +Chris turned to his father behind, and the voice died in his throat, so +dreadful was that face that was looking at Ralph. He was standing as +before, rigid it seemed with grief or anger; and his grey eyes were +bright with a tense emotion; his lips too were as firm as his son’s. But +he spoke no word. Sir Nicholas was at his side, with one foot advanced, +and in attitude as if to spring; and Morris’s face looked like a mask +over his shoulder. + +“Well, then--” said Ralph once more. + +“Ah! you damned hound!” roared the young squire’s voice; and his hand +went up with the whip in it. + +Ralph did not move a muscle. He seemed cut in steel. + +“Let us go,” said Dom Anthony again, to Chris, almost tenderly; “it is +enough that we are turned out by force.” + +“You can go by the church, if you will,” said Ralph composedly. “In +fact--” He stopped as the murmur howled up again from the gate--“In +fact you had better go that way. They do not seem to be your friends out +there.” + +“We will go whichever way you wish,” remarked the elder monk. + +“Then the church,” said Ralph, “or some other private door. I suppose +you have one. Most of your houses have one, I believe.” + +The sneer snapped the tension. + +Dom Anthony turned his back on him instantly. + +“Come, brother,” he said. + +Chris took his father by the arm as he went up the steps. + +“Come, sir,” he said, “we are to go this way.” + +There was a moment’s pause. The old man still stared down at his elder +son, who was standing below in the same position. Chris heard a deep +breath, and thought he was on the point of speaking; but there was +silence. Then the two turned and followed the others into the cloister. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +AXES AND HAMMERS + + +Chris sat next morning at a high window of a house near Saint Michael’s +looking down towards the south of the town. + +They had escaped without difficulty the night before through the +church-entrance, with a man whom Ralph sent after them to see that they +carried nothing away, leaving the crowd roaring round the corner of the +gate, and though people looked curiously at the monks, the five laymen +with them protected them from assault. Mr. Morris had found a lodging a +couple of days before, unknown to Chris, in the house of a woman who was +favourable to the Religious, and had guided the party straight there on +the previous evening. + +The two monks had said mass in Saint Michael’s that morning before the +town was awake; and were now keeping within doors at Sir James’s earnest +request, while the two gentlemen with one of the servants had gone to +see what was being done at the priory. + + * * * * * + +From where Chris sat in his black habit at the leaded window he could +see straight down the opening of the steep street, across the lower +roofs below, to where the great pile of the Priory church less than +half-a-mile away soared up in the sunlight against the water-meadows +where the Ouse ran to the south of the town. + +The street was very empty below him, for every human being that could +do so had gone down to the sacking of the priory. There might be +pickings, scraps gathered from the hoards that the monks were supposed +to have gathered; there would probably be an auction; and there would +certainly be plenty of excitement and pleasure. + +Chris was himself almost numb to sensation. The coolness that had +condensed round his soul last night had hardened into ice; he scarcely +realised what was going on, or how great was the catastrophe into which +his life was plunged. There lay the roofs before him--he ran his eye +from the west tower past the high lantern to the delicate tracery of the +eastern apse and chapels--in the hands of the spoilers; and here he sat +dry-eyed and steady-mouthed looking down on it, as a man looks at a +wound not yet begun to smart. + +It was piteously clear and still. Smoke was rising from a fire somewhere +behind the church, a noise as of metal on stone chinked steadily, and +the voices of men calling one to another sounded continually from the +enclosure. Now and again the tiny figure of a workman showed clear on +the roof, pick in hand; or leaning to call directions down to his +fellows beneath. + +Dom Anthony looked in presently, breviary in hand, and knelt by Chris on +the window-step, watching too; but he spoke no word, glanced at the +white face and sunken eyes of the other, sighed once or twice, and went +out again. + +The morning passed on and still Chris watched. By eleven o’clock the men +were gone from the roof; half an hour had passed, and no further figure +had appeared. + +There were footsteps on the stairs; and Sir James came in. + +He came straight across to his son and sat down by him. Chris looked at +him. The old man nodded. + +“Yes, my son,” he said, “they are at it. Nothing is to be left, but the +cloister and guest-house. The church is to be down in a week they say.” + +Chris looked at him dully. + +“All?” he said. + +“All the church, my son.” + +Sir James gave an account of what he had seen. He had made his way in +with Nicholas and a few other persons, into the court; but had not been +allowed to enter the cloister. There was a furnace being made ready in +the calefactorium for the melting of the lead, he had been told by one +of the men; and the church, as he had seen for himself, was full of +workmen. + +“And the Blessed Sacrament?” asked Chris. + +“A priest was sent for this morning to carry It away to a church; I know +not which.” + +Sir James described the method of destruction. + +They were beginning with the apse and the chapels behind the high altar. +The ornaments had been removed, the images piled in a great heap in the +outer court, and the brasses had been torn up. There were half a dozen +masons busy at undercutting the pillars and walls; and as they excavated +the carpenters made wooden insertions to prop up the weight. The men had +been brought down from London, as the commissioners were not certain of +the temper of the Lewes people. Two of the four great pillars behind the +high altar were already cut half through. + +“And Ralph?” + +The old man’s face grew tense and bitter. + +“I saw him in the roof,” he said; “he made as if he did not see me.” + +They were half-through dinner before Nicholas joined them. He was +flushed and dusty and furious. + +“Ah! the hounds!” he said, as he stood at the door, trembling. “They +say they will have the chapels down before night. They have stripped the +lead.” + +Sir James looked up and motioned him to sit down. + +“We will go down again presently,” he said. + +“But we have saved our luggage,” went on Nicholas, taking his seat; “and +there was a parcel of yours, Chris, that I put with it. It is all to be +sent up with the horses to-night.” + +“Did you speak with Mr. Ralph?” asked Dom Anthony. + +“Ah! I did; the dog! and I told him what I thought. But he dared not +refuse me the luggage. John is to go for it all to-night.” + +He told them during dinner another fact that he had learned. + +“You know who is to have it all?” he said fiercely, his fingers +twitching with emotion. + +“It is Master Gregory Cromwell, and his wife, and his baby. A fine +nursery!” + + * * * * * + +As the evening drew on, Chris was again at the window alone. He had said +his office earlier in the afternoon, and sat here again now, with his +hands before him, staring down at the church. + +One of the servants had come up with a message from Sir James an hour +before telling him not to expect them before dusk; and that they would +send up news of any further developments. The whole town was there, said +the man: it had been found impossible to keep them out. Dom Anthony +presently came again and sat with Chris; and Mr. Morris, who had been +left as a safeguard to the monks, slipped in soon after and stood behind +the two; and so the three waited. + +The sky was beginning to glow again as it had done last night with the +clear radiance of a cloudless sunset; and the tall west tower stood up +bright in the glory. How infinitely far away last night seemed now, +little and yet distinct as a landscape seen through a reversed +telescope! How far away that silent waiting at the cloister door, the +clamour at the gate, the forced entrance, the slipping away through the +church! + +The smoke was rising faster than ever now from the great chimney, and +hung in a cloud above the buildings. Perhaps even now the lead was being +cast. + +There was a clatter at the corner of the cobbled street below, and Dom +Anthony leaned from the window. He drew back. + +“It is the horses,” he said. + +The servant presently came up to announce that the two gentlemen were +following immediately, and that he had had orders to procure horses and +saddle them at once. He had understood Sir James to say that they must +leave that night. + +Mr. Morris hurried out to see to the packing. + +In five minutes the gentlemen themselves appeared. + +Sir James came quickly across to the two monks. + +“We must go to-night, Chris,” he said. “We had words with Portinari. You +must not remain longer in the town.” + +Chris looked at him. + +“Yes?” he said. + +“And the chapels will be down immediately. Oh! dear God!” + +Dom Anthony made room for the old man to sit down in the window-seat; +and himself stood behind the two with Nicholas; and so again they +watched. + +The light was fading fast now, and in the windows below lights were +beginning to shine. The square western tower that dominated the whole +priory had lost its splendour, and stood up strong and pale against the +meadows. There was a red flare of light somewhere over the wall of the +court, and the inner side of the gate-turret was illuminated by it. + +A tense excitement lay on the watchers; and no sound came from them but +that of quick breathing as they waited for what they knew was imminent. + +Outside the evening was wonderfully still; they could hear two men +talking somewhere in the street below; but from the priory came no +sound. The chink of the picks was still, and the cries of the workmen. +Far away beyond the castle on their left came an insistent barking of a +dog; and once, when a horseman rode by below Chris bit his lip with +vexation, for it seemed to him like the disturbing of a death bed. A +star or two looked out, vanished, and peeped again from the luminous +sky, to the south, and the downs beneath were grey and hazy. + +All the watchers now had their eyes on the eastern end of the church +that lay in dim shadow; they could see the roof of the vault behind +where the high altar lay beneath; the flying buttress of a chapel below; +and, nearer, the low roof of the Lady-chapel. + +Chris kept his eyes strained on the upper vault, for there, he knew the +first movement would show itself. + +The time seemed interminable. He moistened his dry lips from time to +time, shifted his position a little, and moved his elbow from the sharp +moulding of the window-frame. + +Then he caught his breath. + +From where he sat, in the direct line of his eyes, the top of a patch of +evergreen copse was visible just beyond the roof of the vault; and as +he looked he saw that a patch of paler green had appeared below it. All +in a moment he saw too the flying buttress crook itself like an elbow +and disappear. Then the vault was gone and the roof beyond; the walls +sank with incredible slowness and vanished. + +A cloud of white dust puffed up like smoke. + +Then through the open window came the roar of the tumbling masonry; and +shrill above it the clamour of a great crowd. + + + + +BOOK III + +THE KING’S GRATITUDE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +A SCHEME + + +The period that followed the destruction of Lewes Priory held very +strange months for Chris. He had slipped out of the stream into a +back-water, from which he could watch the swift movements of the time, +while himself undisturbed by them; for no further notice was taken of +his refusal to sign the surrender or of his resistance to the +Commissioners. The hands of the authorities were so full of business +that apparently it was not worth their while to trouble about an +inoffensive monk of no particular notoriety, who after all had done +little except in a negative way, and who appeared now to acquiesce in +silence and seclusion. + +The household at Overfield was of a very mixed nature. Dom Anthony after +a month or two had left for the Continent to take up his vocation in a +Benedictine house; and Sir James and his wife, Chris, Margaret, and Mr. +Carleton remained together. For the present Chris and Margaret were +determined to wait, for a hundred things might intervene--Henry’s death, +a changing of his mind, a foreign invasion on the part of the Catholic +powers, an internal revolt in England, and such things--and set the +clock back again, and, unlike Dom Anthony, they had a home where they +could follow their Rules in tolerable comfort. + +The country was indeed very deeply stirred by the events that were +taking place; but for the present, partly from terror and partly from +the great forces that were brought to bear upon English convictions, it +gave no expression to its emotion. The methods that Cromwell had +employed with such skill in the past were still active. On the worldly +side there was held out to the people the hope of relieved taxation, of +the distribution of monastic wealth and lands; on the spiritual side the +bishops under Cranmer were zealous in controverting the old principles +and throwing doubt upon the authority of the Pope. It was impossible for +the unlearned to know what to believe; new manifestoes were issued +continually by the King and clergy, full of learned arguments and +persuasive appeals; and the professors of the old religion were +continually discredited by accusations of fraud, avarice, immorality, +hypocrisy and the like. They were silenced, too; while active and +eloquent preachers like Latimer raged from pulpit to pulpit, denouncing, +expounding, convincing. + +Meanwhile the work went on rapidly. The summer and autumn of ’38 saw +again destruction after destruction of Religious Houses and objects of +veneration; and the intimidation of the most influential personages on +the Catholic side. + +In February, for example, the rood of Boxley was brought up to London +with every indignity, and after being exhibited with shouts of laughter +at Whitehall, and preached against at Paul’s Cross, it was tossed down +among the zealous citizens and smashed to pieces. In the summer, among +others, the shrine of St. Swithun at Winchester was defaced and robbed; +and in the autumn that followed the friaries which had stood out so long +began to fall right and left. In October the Holy Blood of Hayles, a +relic brought from the East in the thirteenth century and preserved +with great love and honour ever since, was taken from its resting place +and exposed to ridicule in London. Finally in the same month, after St. +Thomas of Canterbury had been solemnly declared a traitor to his prince, +his name, images and pictures ordered to be erased and destroyed out of +every book, window and wall, and he himself summoned with grotesque +solemnity to answer the charges brought against him, his relics were +seized and burned, and--which was more to the point in the King’s view, +his shrine was stripped of its gold and jewels and vestments, which were +conveyed in a string of twenty-six carts to the King’s treasury. The +following year events were yet more terrible. The few great houses that +survived were one by one brought within reach of the King’s hand; and +those that did not voluntarily surrender fell under the heavier +penalties of attainder. Abbot Whiting of Glastonbury was sent up to +London in September, and two months later suffered on Tor hill within +sight of the monastery he had ruled so long and so justly; and on the +same day the Abbot of Reading suffered too outside his own gateway. Six +weeks afterwards Abbot Marshall, of Colchester, was also put to death. + + * * * * * + +It was a piteous life that devout persons led at this time; and few were +more unhappy than the household at Overfield. It was the more miserable +because Lady Torridon herself was so entirely out of sympathy with the +others. While she was not often the actual bearer of ill news--for she +had neither sufficient strenuousness nor opportunity for it--it was +impossible to doubt that she enjoyed its arrival. + +They were all together at supper one warm summer evening when a servant +came in to announce that a monk of St. Swithun’s was asking hospitality. +Sir James glanced at his wife who sat with passive downcast face; and +then ordered the priest to be brought in. + +He was a timid, tactless man who failed to grasp the situation, and when +the wine and food had warmed his heart he began to talk a great deal too +freely, taking it for granted that all there were in sympathy with him. +He addressed himself chiefly to Chris, who answered courteously; and +described the sacking of the shrine at some length. + +“He had already set aside our cross called Hierusalem,” cried the monk, +his weak face looking infinitely pathetic with its mingled sorrow and +anger, “and two of our gold chalices, to take them with him when he +went; and then with his knives and hammers, as the psalmist tells us, he +hacked off the silver plates from the shrine. There was a fellow I knew +very well--he had been to me to confession two days before--who held a +candle and laughed. And then when all was done; and that was not till +three o’clock in the morning, one of the smiths tested the metal and +cried out that there was not one piece of true gold in it all. And Mr. +Pollard raged at us for it, and told us that our gold was as counterfeit +as the rotten bones that we worshipped. But indeed there was plenty of +gold; and the man lied; for it was a very rich shrine. God’s vengeance +will fall on them for their lies and their robbery. Is it not so, +mistress?” + +Lady Torridon lifted her eyes and looked at him. Her husband hastened to +interpose. + +“Have you finished your wine, father?” + +The monk seemed not to hear him; and his talk flowed on about the +destruction of the high altar and the spoiling of the reredos, which had +taken place on the following days; and as he talked he filled his +Venetian glass more than once and drank it off; and his lantern face +grew flushed and his eyes animated. Chris saw that his mother was +watching the monk shrewdly and narrowly, and feared what might come. But +it was unavoidable. + +“We poor monks,” the priest cried presently, “shall soon be cast out to +beg our bread. The King’s Grace--” + +“Is not poverty one of the monastic vows?” put in Lady Torridon +suddenly, still looking steadily at his half-drunk glass. + +“Why, yes, mistress; and the King’s Grace is determined to make us keep +it, it seems.” + +He lifted his glass and finished it; and put out his hand again to the +bottle. + +“But that is a good work, surely,” smiled the other. “It will be surely +a safeguard against surfeiting and drunkenness.” + +Sir James rose instantly. + +“Come, father,” he said to the staring monk, “you will be tired out, and +will want your bed.” + +A slow smile shone and faded on his wife’s face as she rose and rustled +down the long hall. + + * * * * * + +Such incidents as this made life at Overfield very difficult for them +all; it was hard for these sore hearts to be continually on the watch +for dangerous subjects, and only to be able to comfort one another when +the mistress of the house was absent; but above all it was difficult for +Margaret. She was nearly as silent as her mother, but infinitely more +tender; and since the two were naturally together for the most part, +except when the nun was at her long prayers, there were often very +difficult and painful incidents. + +For the first eighteen months after her return her mother let her +alone; but as time went on and the girl’s resolution persevered, she +began to be subjected to a distressing form of slight persecution. + +For example: Chris and his father came in one day in the autumn from a +walk through the priory garden that lay beyond the western moat. As they +passed in the level sunshine along the prim box-lined paths, and had +reached the centre where the dial stood, they heard voices in the +summer-house that stood on the right behind a yew hedge. + +Sir James hesitated a moment; and as he waited heard Margaret’s voice +with a thrill of passion in it. + +“I cannot listen to that, mother. It is wicked to say such things.” + +The two turned instantly, passed along the path and came round the +corner. + +Margaret was standing with one hand on the little table, half-turned to +go. Her eyes were alight with indignation, and her lips trembled. Her +mother sat on the other side, her silver-handled stick beside her, and +her hands folded serenely together. + +Sir James looked from one to the other; and there fell a silence. + +“Are you coming with us, Margaret?” he said. + +The girl still hesitated a moment, glancing at her mother, and then +stepped out of the summer-house. Chris saw that bitter smile writhe and +die on the elder woman’s face, but she said nothing. + +Margaret burst out presently when they had crossed the moat and were +coming up to the long grey-towered house. + +“I cannot bear such talk, father,” she said, with her eyes bright with +angry tears, “she was saying such things about Rusper, and how idle we +all were there, and how foolish.” + +“You must not mind it, my darling. Your mother does not--does not +understand.” + +“There was never any one like Mother Abbess,” went on the girl. “I never +saw her idle or out of humour; and--and we were all so busy and happy.” + +Her eyes overflowed a moment; her father put his arm tenderly round her +shoulders, and they went in together. + +It was a terrible thing for Margaret to be thrown like this out of the +one life that was a reality to her. As she looked back now it seemed as +if the convent shone glorified and beautiful in a haze of grace. The +discipline of the house had ordered and inspired the associations on +which memories afterwards depend, and had excluded the discordant notes +that spoil the harmonies of secular life. The chapel, with its delicate +windows, its oak rails, its scent of flowers and incense, its tiled +floor, its single row of carved woodwork and the crosier by the Abbess’s +seat, was a place of silence instinct with a Divine Presence that +radiated from the hanging pyx; it was these particular things, and not +others like them, that had been the scene of her romance with God, her +aspirations, tendernesses, tears and joys. She had walked in the tiny +cloister with her Lover in her heart, and the glazed laurel-leaves that +rattled in the garth had been musical with His voice; it was in her +little white cell that she had learned to sleep in His arms and to wake +to the brightness of His Face. And now all this was dissipated. There +were other associations with her home, of childish sorrows and passions +before she had known God, of hunting-parties and genial ruddy men who +smelt of fur and blood, of her mother’s chilly steady presence-- +associations that jarred with the inner life; whereas in the convent +there had been nothing that was not redolent with efforts and rewards of +the soul. Even without her mother life would have been hard enough now +at Overfield; with her it was nearly intolerable. + +Chris, however, was able to do a good deal for the girl; for he had +suffered in the same way; and had the advantage of a man’s strength. She +could talk to him as to no one else of the knowledge of the interior +vocation in both of them that persevered in spite of their ejection from +the cloister; and he was able to remind her that the essence of the +enclosure, under these circumstances, lay in the spirit and not in +material stones. + +It was an advantage for Chris too to have her under his protection. The +fact that he had to teach her and remind her of facts that they both +knew, made them more real to himself; and to him as to her there came +gradually a kind of sorrow-shot contentment that deepened month by month +in spite of their strange and distracting surroundings. + +But he was not wholly happy about her; she was silent and lonely +sometimes; he began to see what an immense advantage it would be to her +in the peculiarly difficult circumstances of the time, to have some one +of her own sex and sympathies at hand. But he did not see how it could +be arranged. For the present it was impossible for her to enter the +Religious Life, except by going abroad; and so long as there was the +faintest hope of the convents being restored in England, both she and +her father and brother shrank from the step. And the hope was increased +by the issue of the Six Articles in the following May, by which +Transubstantiation was declared to be a revealed dogma, to be held on +penalty of death by burning; and communion in one kind, the celibacy of +the clergy, the perpetuity of the vow of chastity, private masses, and +auricular confession were alike ratified as parts of the Faith held by +the Church of which Henry had made himself head. + +Yet as time went on, and there were no signs of the restoration of the +Religious Houses, Chris began to wonder again as to what was best for +Margaret. Perhaps until matters developed it would be well for her to +have some friend in whom she could confide, even if only to relax the +strain for a few weeks. He went to his father one day in the autumn and +laid his views before him. + +Sir James nodded and seemed to understand. + +“Do you think Mary would be of any service?” + +Chris hesitated. + +“Yes, sir, I think so--but--” + +His father looked at him. + +“It is a stranger I think that would help her more. Perhaps another +nun--?” + +“My dear lad, I dare not ask another nun. Your mother--” + +“I know,” said Chris. + +“Well, I will think of it,” said the other. + +A couple of days later Sir James took him aside after supper into his +own private room. + +“Chris,” he said, “I have been thinking of what you said. And Mary shall +certainly come here for Christmas, with Nick; but--but there is someone +else too I would like to ask.” + +He looked at his son with an odd expression. + +Chris could not imagine what this meant. + +“It is Mistress Atherton,” went on the other. “You see you know her a +little--at least you have seen her; and there is Ralph. And from all +that I have heard of her--her friendship with Master More and the rest, +I think she might be the very friend for poor Meg. Do you think she +would come, Chris?” + +Chris was silent. He could not yet fully dissociate the thought of +Beatrice from the memory of the time when she had taken Ralph’s part. +Besides, was it possible to ask her under the circumstances? + +“Then there was one more thing that I never told you;” went on his +father, “there was no use in it. But I went to see Mistress Atherton +when she was betrothed to Ralph. I saw her in London; and I think I may +say we made friends. And she has very few now; she keeps herself aloof. +Folks are afraid of her too. I think it would be a kindness to her. I +could not understand how she could marry Ralph; and now that is +explained.” + +Chris was startled by this news. His father had not breathed a word of +it before. + +“She made me promise,” went on Sir James, “to tell her if Ralph did +anything unworthy. It was after the first news had reached her of what +the Visitors were doing. And I told her, of course, about Rusper. I +think we owe her something. And I think too from what I saw of her that +she might make her way with your mother.” + +“It might succeed,” said Chris doubtfully, “but it is surely difficult +for her to come--” + +“I know--yes--with Ralph and her betrothal. But if we can ask her, +surely she can come. I can tell her how much we need her. I would send +Meg to Great Keynes, if I dared, but I dare not. It is not so safe there +as here; she had best keep quiet.” + +They talked about it a few minutes more, and Chris became more inclined +to it. From what he remembered of Beatrice and the impression that she +had made on him in those few fierce minutes in Ralph’s house he began to +see that she would probably be able to hold her own; and if only +Margaret would take to her, the elder girl might be of great service in +establishing the younger. It was an odd and rather piquant idea, and +gradually took hold of his imagination. It was a very extreme step to +take, considering that she had broken off her betrothal to the eldest +son of the house; but against that was set the fact that she would not +meet him there; and that her presence would be really valued by at least +four-fifths of the household. + +It was decided that Lady Torridon should be told immediately; and a day +or two later Sir James came to Chris in the garden to tell him that she +had consented. + +“I do not understand it at all,” said the old man, “but your mother +seemed very willing. I wonder--” + +And then he stopped abruptly. + +The letter was sent. Chris saw it and the strong appeal it contained +that Beatrice should come to the aid of a nun who was pining for want of +companionship. A day or two later brought down the answer that Mistress +Atherton would have great pleasure in coming a week before Christmas. + + * * * * * + +Margaret had a fit of shyness when the day came for her arrival. It was +a clear frosty afternoon, with a keen turquoise sky overhead, and she +wandered out in her habit down the slope to the moat, crossed the +bridge, glancing at the thin ice and the sedge that pierced it, and came +up into the private garden. She knew she could hear the sounds of wheels +from there, and had an instinctive shrinking from being at the house +when the stranger arrived. + +The grass walks were crisp to the foot; the plants in the deep beds +rested in a rigid stillness with a black blossom or two drooping here +and there; and the hollies beyond the yew hedge lifted masses of green +lit by scarlet against the pale sky. Her breath went up like smoke as +she walked softly up and down. + +There was no sound to disturb her. Once she heard the clink of the +blacksmith’s forge half a mile away in the village; once a blackbird +dashed chattering from a hedge, scudded in a long dip, and rose again +over it; a robin followed her in brisk hops, with a kind of pathetic +impertinence in his round eye, as he wondered whether this human +creature’s footsteps would not break the iron armour of the ground and +give him a chance to live. + +She wondered a thousand things as she went; what kind of a woman this +was that was coming, how she would look, why she had not married Ralph, +and above all, whether she understood--whether she understood! + +A kind of frost had fallen on her own soul; she could find no sustenance +there; it was all there, she knew, all the mysterious life that had +rioted within her like spring, in the convent, breathing its fragrances, +bewildering in its wealth of shape and colour. But an icy breath had +petrified it all; it had sunk down out of sight; it needed a soul like +her own, feminine and sympathetic, a soul that had experienced the same +things as her own, that knew the tenderness and love of the Saviour, to +melt that frigid covering and draw out the essences and sweetness again, +that lay there paralysed by this icy environment.... + +There were wheels at last. + +She gathered up her black skirt, and ran to the edge of the low yews +that bounded the garden on the north; and as she caught a glimpse of the +nodding heads of the postilions, the plumes of their mounts, and the +great carriage-roof swaying in the iron ruts, she shrank back again, in +an agony of shyness, terrified of being seen. + +The sky had deepened to flaming orange in the west, barred by the tall +pines, before she unlatched the garden-gate to go back to the house. + +The windows shone out bright and inviting from the parlour on the +ground-floor and from beneath the high gable of the hall as she came up +the slope. Mistress Atherton, she knew, would be in one of these rooms +if she had not already gone up stairs; and with an instinct of shyness +still strong within her the girl slipped round to the back, and passed +in through the chapel. + +The court was lighted by a link that flared beside one of the doorways +on the left, and a couple of great trunks lay below it. A servant came +out as she stood there hesitating, and she called to him softly to know +where was Mistress Atherton. + +“She is in the parlour, Mistress Margaret,” said the man. + +The girl went slowly across to the corner doorway, glancing at the +parlour windows as she passed; but the curtains were drawn on this side, +and she could catch no glimpse of the party within. + +The little entrance passage was dark; but she could hear a murmur of +voices as she stood there, still hesitating. Then she opened the door +suddenly, and went into the room. + +Her mother was speaking; and the girl heard those icy detached tones as +she looked round the group. + +“It must be very difficult for you, Mistress Atherton, in these days.” + +Margaret saw her father standing at the window-seat, and Chris beside +him; and in a moment saw that the faces of both were troubled and +uneasy. + +A tall girl was in the chair opposite, her hands lying easily on the +arms and her head thrown back almost negligently. She was well dressed, +with furs about her throat; her buckled feet were crossed before the +blaze, and her fingers shone with jewels. Her face was pale; her +scarlet lips were smiling, and there was a certain keen and genial +amusement in her black eyes. + +She looked magnificent, thought Margaret, still standing with her hand +on the door--too magnificent. + +Her father made a movement, it seemed of relief, as his daughter came +in; but Lady Torridon, very upright in her chair on this side, went on +immediately. + +--“With your opinions, Mistress Atherton, I mean. I suppose all that you +consider sacred is being insulted, in your eyes.” + +The tall girl glanced at Margaret with the amusement still in her face, +and then answered with a deliberate incisiveness that equalled Lady +Torridon’s own. + +“Not so difficult,” she said, “as for those who have no opinions.” + +There was a momentary pause; and then she added, as she stood up and Sir +James came forward. + +“I am very sorry for them, Mistress Torridon.” + +Before Lady Torridon could answer, Sir James had broken in. + +“This is my daughter Margaret, Mistress Atherton.” + +The two ladies saluted one another. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A DUEL + + +Margaret watched Beatrice with growing excitement that evening, in which +was mingled something of awe and something of attraction. She had never +seen anyone so serenely self-possessed. + +It became evident during supper, beyond the possibility of mistake, that +Lady Torridon had planned war against the guest, who was a +representative in her eyes of all that was narrow-minded and +contemptible. Here was a girl, she seemed to tell herself, who had had +every opportunity of emancipation, who had been singularly favoured in +being noticed by Ralph, and who had audaciously thrown him over for the +sake of some ridiculous scruples worthy only of idiots and nuns. Indeed +to Chris it was fairly plain that his mother had consented so willingly +to Beatrice’s visit with the express purpose of punishing her. + +But Beatrice held her own triumphantly. + + * * * * * + +They had not sat down three minutes before Lady Torridon opened the +assault, with grave downcast face and in her silkiest manner. She went +abruptly back to the point where the conversation had been interrupted +in the parlour by Margaret’s entrance. + +“Mistress Atherton,” she observed, playing delicately with her spoon, “I +think you said that to your mind the times were difficult for those who +had no opinions.” + +Beatrice looked at her pleasantly. + +“Yes, Mistress Torridon; at least more difficult for those, than for the +others who know their own mind.” + +The other waited a moment, expecting the girl to justify herself, but +she was forced to go on. + +“Abbot Marshall knew his mind, but it was not easy for him.” + +(The news had just arrived of the Abbot’s execution). + +“Do you think not, mistress? I fear I still hold my opinion.” + +“And what do you mean by that?” + +“I mean that unless we have something to hold to, in these troublesome +times, we shall drift. That is all.” + +“Ah! and drift whither?” + +Beatrice smiled so genially as she answered, that the other had no +excuse for taking offence. + +“Well, it might be better not to answer that.” + +Lady Torridon looked at her with an impassive face. + +“To hell, then?” she said. + +“Well, yes: to hell,” said Beatrice. + +There was a profound silence; broken by the stifled merriment of a +servant behind the chairs, who transformed it hastily into a cough. Sir +James glanced across in great distress at his son; but Chris’ eyes +twinkled at him. + +Lady Torridon was silent a moment, completely taken aback by the +suddenness with which the battle had broken, and amazed by the girl’s +audacity. She herself was accustomed to use brutality, but not to meet +it. She laid her spoon carefully down. + +“Ah!” she said, “and you believe that? And for those who hold wrong +opinions, I suppose you would believe the same?” + +“If they were wrong enough,” said Beatrice, “and through their fault. +Surely we are taught to believe that, Mistress Torridon?” + +The elder woman said nothing at all, and went on with her soup. Her +silence was almost more formidable than her speech, and she knew that, +and contrived to make it offensive. Beatrice paid no sort of attention +to it, however; and without looking at her again began to talk +cheerfully to Sir James about her journey from town. Margaret watched +her, fascinated; her sedate beautiful face, her lace and jewels, her +white fingers, long and straight, that seemed to endorse the impression +of strength that her carriage and manner of speaking suggested; as one +might watch a swordsman between the rounds of a duel and calculate his +chances. She knew very well that her mother would not take her first +repulse easily; and waited in anxiety for the next clash of swords. + +Beatrice seemed perfectly fearless, and was talking about the King with +complete freedom, and yet with a certain discretion too. + +“He will have his way,” she said. “Who can doubt that?” + +Lady Torridon saw an opening for a wound, and leapt at it. + +“As he had with Master More,” she put in. + +Beatrice turned her head a little, but made no answer; and there was not +the shadow of wincing on her steady face. + +“As he had with Master More,” said Lady Torridon a little louder. + +“We must remember that he has my Lord Cromwell to help him,” observed +Beatrice tranquilly. + +Lady Torridon looked at her again. Even now she could scarcely believe +that this stranger could treat her with such a supreme indifference. And +there was a further sting, too, in the girl’s answer, for all there +understood the reference to Ralph; and yet again it was impossible to +take offence. + +Margaret looked at her father, half-frightened, and saw again a look of +anxiety in his eyes; he was crumbling his bread nervously as he answered +Beatrice. + +“My Lord Cromwell--” he began. + +“My Lord Cromwell has my son Ralph under him,” interrupted his wife. +“Perhaps you did not know that, Mistress Atherton.” + +Margaret again looked quickly up; but there was still no sign of wincing +on those scarlet lips, or beneath the black eyebrows. + +“Why, of course, I knew it,” said Beatrice, looking straight at her with +large, innocent eyes, “that was why--” + +She stopped; and Lady Torridon really roused now, made a false step. + +“Yes?” she said. “You did not end your sentence?” + +Beatrice cast an ironically despairing look behind her at the servants. + +“Well,” she said, “if you will have it: that was why I would not marry +him. Did you not know that, Mistress?” + +It was so daring that Margaret caught her breath suddenly; and looked +hopelessly round. Her father and brother had their eyes steadily bent on +the table; and the priest was looking oddly at the quiet angry woman +opposite him. + +Then Sir James slid deftly in, after a sufficient pause to let the +lesson sink home; and began to talk of indifferent things; and Beatrice +answered him with the same ease. + +Lady Torridon made one more attempt just before the end of supper, when +the servants had left the room. + +“You are living on--” she corrected herself ostentatiously--“you are +living with any other family now, Mistress Atherton? I remember my son +Ralph telling me you were almost one of Master More’s household.” + +Beatrice met her eyes with a delightful smile. + +“I am living on--with your family at this time, Mistress Torridon.” + +There was no more to be said just then. The girl had not only turned her +hostess’ point, but had pricked her shrewdly in riposte, three times; +and the last was the sharpest of all. + +Lady Torridon led the way to the oak parlour in silence. + + * * * * * + +She made no more assaults that night; but sat in dignified aloofness, +her hands on her lap, with an air of being unconscious of the presence +of the others. Beatrice sat with Margaret on the long oak settle; and +talked genially to the company at large. + +When compline had been said, Sir James drew Chris aside into the +star-lit court as the others went on in front. + +“Dear lad,” he said, “what are we to do? This cannot go on. Your +mother--” + +Chris smiled at him, and took his arm a moment. + +“Why, father,” he said, “what more do we want? Mistress Atherton can +hold her own.” + +“But your mother will insult her.” + +“She will not be able,” said Chris. “Mistress Atherton will not have it. +Did you not see how she enjoyed it?” + +“Enjoyed it?” + +“Why, yes; her eyes shone.” + +“Well, I must speak to her,” said Sir James, still perplexed. “Come with +me, Chris.” + +Mr. Carleton was just leaving the parlour as they came up to its +outside door. Sir James drew him into the yard. There were no secrets +between these two. + +“Father,” he said, “did you notice? Do you think Mistress Atherton will +be able to stay here?” + +He saw to his astonishment that the priest’s melancholy face, as the +starlight fell on it, was smiling. + +“Why, yes, Sir James. She is happy enough.” + +“But my wife--” + +“Sir James, I think Mistress Atherton may do her good. She--” he +hesitated. + +“Well?” said the old man. + +“She--Lady Torridon has met her match,” said the chaplain, still +smiling. + +Sir James made a little gesture of bewilderment. + +“Well, come in, Chris. I do not understand; but if you both think so--” + +He broke off and opened the door. + +Lady Torridon was gone to her room; and the two girls were alone. +Beatrice was standing before the hearth with her hands behind her +back--a gallant upright figure; as they came in, she turned a cheerful +face to them. + +“Your daughter has been apologising, Sir James,” she said; and there was +a ripple of amusement in her voice. “She thinks I have been hardly +treated.” + +She glanced at the bewildered Margaret, who was staring at her under her +delicate eyebrows with wide eyes of amazement and admiration. + +Sir James looked confused. + +“The truth is, Mistress Atherton, that I too--and my son--” + +“Well, not your son,” said Chris smiling. + +“You too!” cried Beatrice. “And how have I been hardly treated?” + +“Well, I thought perhaps, that what was said at supper--” began the old +man, beginning to smile too. + +“Lady Torridon, and every one, has been all that is hospitable,” said +Beatrice. “It is like old days at Chelsea. I love word-fencing; and +there are so few who practise it.” + +Sir James was still a little perplexed. + +“You assure me, Mistress, that you are not distressed by--by anything +that has passed?” + +“Distressed!” she cried. “Why, it is a real happiness!” + +But he was not yet satisfied. + +“You will engage to tell me then, if you think you are improperly +treated by--by anyone--?” + +“Why, yes,” said the girl, smiling into his eyes. “But there is no need +to promise that. I am really happy; and I am sure your daughter and I +will be good friends.” + +She turned a little towards Margaret; and Chris saw a curious emotion of +awe and astonishment and affection in his sister’s eyes. + +“Come, my dear,” said Beatrice. “You said you would take me to my room.” + +Sir James hastened to push open the further door that led to the stairs; +and the two girls passed out together. + +Then he shut the door, and turned to his son. Chris had begun to laugh. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A PEACE-MAKER + + +It was a very strange household that Christmas at Overfield. Mary and +her husband came over with their child, and the entire party, with the +exception of the duellists themselves, settled down to watch the +conflict between Lady Torridon and Beatrice Atherton. Its prolongation +was possible because for days together the hostess retired into a +fortress of silence, whence she looked out cynically, shrugged her +shoulders, smiled almost imperceptibly, and only sallied when she found +she could not provoke an attack. Beatrice never made an assault; was +always ready for the least hint of peace; but guarded deftly and struck +hard when she was directly threatened. Neither would she ever take an +insult; the bitterest dart fell innocuous on her bright shield before +she struck back smiling; but there were some sharp moments of anxiety +now and again as she hesitated how to guard. + +A silence would fall suddenly in the midst of the talk and clatter at +table; there would be a momentary kindling of glances, as from the tall +chair opposite the chaplain a psychological atmosphere of peril made +itself felt; then the blow would be delivered; the weapons clashed; and +once more the talk rose high and genial over the battlefield. + + * * * * * + +The moment when Beatrice’s position in the house came nearest to being +untenable, was one morning in January, when the whole party were +assembled on the steps to see the sportsmen off for the day. + +Sir James was down with the foresters and hounds at the further end of +the terrace, arranging the details of the day; Margaret had not yet come +out of chapel, and Lady Torridon, who had had a long fit of silence, was +standing with Mary and Nicholas at the head of the central stairs that +led down from the terrace to the gravel. + +Christopher and Beatrice came out of the house behind, talking +cheerfully; for the two had become great friends since they had learnt +to understand one another, and Beatrice had confessed to him frankly +that she had been wrong and he right in the matter of Ralph. She had +told him this a couple of days after her arrival; but there had been a +certain constraint in her manner that forbade his saying much in answer. +Here they came then, now, in the frosty sunshine; he in his habit and +she in her morning house-dress of silk and lace, talking briskly. + +“I was sure you would understand, father,” she said, as they came up +behind the group. + +Then Lady Torridon turned and delivered her point, suddenly and +brutally. + +“Of course he will,” she said. “I suppose then you are not going out, +Mistress Atherton.” And she glanced with an offensive contempt at the +girl and the monk. Beatrice’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and +opened again. + +“Why, no, Lady Torridon.” + +“I thought not,” said the other; and again she glanced at the two--“for +I see the priest is not.” + +There was a moment’s silence. Nick was looking at his wife with a face +of dismay. Then Beatrice answered smiling. + +“Neither are you, dear Lady Torridon. Is not that enough to keep me?” + +A short yelp of laughter broke from Nicholas; and he stooped to examine +his boot. + +Lady Torridon opened her lips, closed them again, and turned her back on +the girl. + +“But you are cruel,” said Beatrice’s voice from behind, “and--” + +The woman turned once more venomously. + +“You do not want me,” she said. “You have taken one son of mine, and now +you would take the other. Is not my daughter enough?” + +Beatrice instantly stepped up, and put her hand on the other’s arm. + +“Dear Mistress,” she said; and her voice broke into tenderness; “she is +not enough--” + +Lady Torridon jerked her arm away. + +“Come, Mary,” she said. + + * * * * * + +Matters were a little better after that. Sir James was not told of the +incident; because his son knew very well that he would not allow +Beatrice to stay another day after the insult; but Chris felt himself +bound to consult those who had heard what had passed as to whether +indeed it was possible for her to remain. Nicholas grew crimson with +indignation and vowed it was impossible. Mary hesitated; and Chris +himself was doubtful. He went at last to Beatrice that same evening; and +found her alone in the oak parlour, before supper. The sportsmen had not +yet come back; and the other ladies were upstairs. + +Beatrice affected to treat it as nothing; and it was not till Chris +threatened to tell his father, that she told him all she thought. + +“I must seem a vain fool to say so;” she said, leaning back in her +chair, and looking up at him, “and perhaps insolent too; yet I must say +it. It is this: I believe that Lady Torridon--Ah! how can I say it?” + +“Tell me,” said Chris steadily, looking away from her. + +Beatrice shifted a little in her seat; and then stood up. + +“Well, it is this. I do not believe your mother is so--so--is what she +sometimes seems. I think she is very sore and angry; there are a hundred +reasons. I think no one has--has faced her before. She has been obeyed +too much. And--and I think that if I stay I may be able--I may be some +good,” she ended lamely. + +Chris nodded. + +“I understand,” he said softly. + +“Give me another week or two,” said Beatrice, “I will do my best.” + +“You have worked a miracle with Meg,” said Chris. “I believe you can +work another. I will not tell my father; and the others shall not +either.” + + * * * * * + +A wonderful change had indeed come to Margaret during the last month. +Her whole soul, so cramped now by circumstances, had gone out in +adoration towards this stranger. Chris found it almost piteous to watch +her--her shy looks, the shiver that went over her, when the brilliant +figure rustled into the room, or the brisk sentences were delivered from +those smiling lips. He would see too how their hands met as they sat +together; how Margaret would sit distracted and hungering for attention, +eyeing the ceiling, the carpet, her embroidery; and how her eyes would +leap to meet a glance, and her face flush up, as Beatrice throw her a +soft word or look. + +And it was the right love, too, to the monk’s eyes; not a rival flame, +but fuel for divine ardour. Margaret spent longer, not shorter, time at +her prayers; was more, not less, devout at mass and communion; and her +whole sore soul became sensitive and alive again. The winter had passed +for her; the time of the singing-birds was come. + + * * * * * + +She was fascinated by the other’s gallant brilliance. Religion for the +nun had up to the present appeared a delicate thing that grew in the +shadow or in the warm shelter of the cloister; now it blossomed out in +Beatrice as a hardy bright plant that tossed its leaves in the wind and +exulted in sun and cold. Yet it had its evening tendernesses too, its +subtle fragrance when the breeze fell, its sweet colours and +outlines--Beatrice too could pray; and Margaret’s spiritual instinct, as +she knelt by her at the altar-rail or glanced at the other’s face as she +came down fresh with absolution from the chair in the sanctuary where +the chaplain sat, detected a glow of faith at least as warm as her own. + +She was astonished too at her friend’s gaiety; for she had expected, so +far as her knowledge of human souls led to expect anything, a quiet +convalescent spirit, recovering but slowly from the tragedy through +which Margaret knew she had passed. It seemed to her at first as if +Beatrice must be almost heartless, so little did she flinch when Lady +Torridon darted Ralph’s name at her, or Master More’s, or flicked her +suddenly where the wound ought to be; and it was not until the guest had +been a month in the house that the nun understood. + +They were together one evening in Margaret’s own white little room above +the oak parlour. Beatrice was sitting before the fire with her arms +clasped behind her head, waiting till the other had finished her office, +and looking round pleased in her heart, at the walls that told their +tale so plainly. It was almost exactly like a cell. A low oak bed, +red-blanketted, stood under the sloping roof, a prie-dieu beside it, and +a cheap little French image of St. Scholastica over it. There was a +table, with a sheet of white paper, a little ink-horn and two quills +primly side by side upon it; and at the back stood a couple of small +bound volumes in which the nun was accumulating little by little private +devotions that appealed to her. A pair of beads hung on a nail by the +window over which was drawn an old red curtain; two brass candlesticks +with a cross between them stood over the hearth, giving it a faint +resemblance to an altar. The boards were bare except for a strip of +matting by the bed; and the whole room, walls, floor, ceiling and +furniture were speckless and precise. + +Margaret made the sign of the cross, closed her book, and smiled at +Beatrice. + +“You dear child!” she answered. + +Margaret’s face shone with pleasure; and she put out her hand softly to +the other’s knee, and laid it there. + +“Talk to me,” said the nun. + +“Well?” said Beatrice. + +“Tell me about your life in London. You never have yet, you know.” + +An odd look passed over the other’s face, and she dropped her eyes and +laid her hands together in her lap. + +“Oh, Meg,” she said, “I should love to tell you if I could. What would +you like to hear?” + +The nun looked at her wondering. + +“Why--everything,” she said. + +“Shall I tell you of Chelsea and Master More?” + +Margaret nodded, still looking at her; and Beatrice began. + +It was an extraordinary experience for the nun to sit there and hear +that wonderful tale poured out. Beatrice for the first time threw open +her defences--those protections of the sensitive inner life that she had +raised by sheer will--and showed her heart. She told her first of her +life in the country before she had known anything of the world; of her +father’s friendship with More when she was still a child, and of his +death when she was about sixteen. She had had money of her own, and had +come up to live with Mrs. More’s sisters; and so had gradually slipped +into intimacy at Chelsea. Then she described the life there--the ordered +beauty of it all--and the marvellous soul that was its centre and sun. +She told her of More’s humour, his unfailing gaiety, his sweet cynicism +that shot through his talk, his tender affections, and above all--for +she knew this would most interest the nun--his deep and resolute +devotion to God. She described how he had at one time lived at the +Charterhouse, and had seemed to regret, before the end of his life, that +he had not become a Carthusian; she told her of the precious parcel that +had been sent from the Tower to Chelsea the day before his death, and +how she had helped Margaret Roper to unfasten it and disclose the +hair-shirt that he had worn secretly for years, and which now he had +sent back for fear that it should be seen by unfriendly eyes or praised +by flattering tongues. + +Her face grew inexpressibly soft and loving as she talked; more than +once her black eyes filled with tears, and her voice faltered; and the +nun sat almost terrified at the emotion she had called up. It was hardly +possible that this tender feminine creature who talked so softly of +divine and human things and of the strange ardent lawyer in whom both +were so manifest, could be the same stately lady of downstairs who +fenced so gallantly, who never winced at a wound and trod so bravely +over sharp perilous ground. + +“They killed him,” said Beatrice. “King Henry killed him; for that he +could not bear an honest, kindly, holy soul so near his own. And we are +left to weep for him, of whom--of whom the world was not worthy.” + +Margaret felt her hand caught and caressed; and the two sat in silence a +moment. + +“But--but--” began the nun softly, bewildered by this revelation. + +“Yes, my dear; you did not know--how should you?--what a wound I carry +here--what a wound we all carry who knew him.” + +Again there was a short silence. Margaret was searching for some word of +comfort. + +“But you did what you could for him, did you not? And--and even Ralph, I +think I heard--” + +Beatrice turned and looked at her steadily. Margaret read in her face +something she could not understand. + +“Yes--Ralph?” said Beatrice questioningly. + +“You told father so, did you not? He did what he could for Master More?” + +Beatrice laid her other hand too over Margaret’s. + +“My dear; I do not know. I cannot speak of that.” + +“But you said--” + +“Margaret, my pet; you would not hurt me, would you? I do not think I +can bear to speak of that.” + +The nun gripped the other’s two hands passionately, and laid her cheek +against them. + +“Beatrice, I did not know--I forgot.” + +Beatrice stooped and kissed her gently. + + * * * * * + +The nun loved her tenfold more after that. It had been before a kind of +passionate admiration, such as a subject might feel for a splendid +queen; but the queen had taken this timid soul in through the +palace-gates now, into a little inner chamber intimate and apart, and +had sat with her there and shown her everything, her broken toys, her +failures; and more than all her own broken heart. And as, after that +evening, Margaret watched Beatrice again in public, heard her retorts +and marked her bearing, she knew that she knew something that the others +did not; she had the joy of sharing a secret of pain. But there was one +wound that Beatrice did not show her; that secret was reserved for one +who had more claim to it, and could understand. The nun could not have +interpreted it rightly. + + * * * * * + +Mary and Nicholas went back to Great Keynes at the end of January; and +Beatrice was out on the terrace with the others to see them go. Jim, the +little seven-year-old boy, had fallen in love with her, ever since he +had found that she treated him like a man, with deference and courtesy, +and did not talk about him in his presence and over his head. He was +walking with her now, a little apart, as the horses came round, and +explaining to her how it was that he only rode a pony at present, and +not a horse. + +“My legs would not reach, Mistress Atherton,” he said, protruding a +small leather boot. “It is not because I am afraid, or father either. I +rode Jess, the other day, but not astride.” + +“I quite understand,” said Beatrice respectfully, without the shadow of +laughter in her face. + +“You see--” began the boy. + +Then his mother came up. + +“Run, Jim, and hold my horse. Mistress Beatrice, may I have a word with +you?” + +The two turned and walked down to the end of the terrace again. + +“It is this,” said Mary, looking at the other from under her plumed hat, +with her skirt gathered up with her whip in her gloved hand. “I wished +to tell you about my mother. I have not dared till now. I have never +seen her so stirred in my life, as she is now. I--I think she will do +anything you wish in time. It is useless to feign that we do not +understand one another--anything you wish--come back to her Faith +perhaps; treat my father better. She--she loves you, I think; and yet +dare not--” + +“On Ralph’s account,” put in Beatrice serenely. + +“Yes; how did you know? It is on Ralph’s account. She cannot forgive +that. Can you say anything to her, do you think? Anything to explain? +You understand--” + +“I understand.” + +“I do not know how I dare say all this,” went on Mary blushing +furiously, “but I must thank you too for what you have done for my +sister. It is wonderful. I could have done nothing.” + +“My dear,” said Beatrice. “I love your sister. There is no need for +thanks.” + +A loud voice hailed them. + +“Sweetheart,” shouted Sir Nicholas, standing with his legs apart at the +mounting steps. “The horses are fretted to death.” + +“You will remember,” said Mary hurriedly, as they turned. “And--God +bless you, Beatrice!” + +Lady Torridon was indeed very quiet now. It was strange for the others +to see the difference. It seemed as if she had been conquered by the one +weapon that she could wield, which was brutality. As Mr. Carleton had +said, she had never been faced before; she had been accustomed to regard +devoutness as incompatible with strong character; she had never been +resisted. Both her husband and children had thought to conquer by +yielding; it was easier to do so, and appeared more Christian; and she +herself, like Ralph, was only provoked further by passivity. And now she +had met one of the old school, who was as ready in the use of worldly +weapons as herself; she had been ignored and pricked alternately, and +with astonishing grace too, by one who was certainly of that tone of +mind that she had gradually learnt to despise and hate. + +Chris saw this before his father; but he saw too that the conquest was +not yet complete. His mother had been cowed with respect, as a dog that +is broken in; she had not yet been melted with love. He had spoken to +Mary the day before the Maxwells’ departure, and tried to put this into +words; and Mary had seen where the opening for love lay, through which +the work could be done; and the result had been the interview with +Beatrice, and the mention of Ralph’s name. But Mary had not a notion how +Beatrice could act; she only saw that Ralph was the one chink in her +mother’s armour, and she left it to this girl who had been so adroit up +to the present, to find how to pierce it. + +Sir James had given up trying to understand the situation. He had for so +long regarded his wife as an irreconcilable that he hoped for nothing +better than to be able to keep her pacified; anything in the nature of a +conversion seemed an idle dream. But he had noticed the change in her +manner, and wondered what it meant; he hoped that the pendulum had not +swung too far, and that it was not she who was being bullied now by +this imperious girl from town. + +He said a word to Mr. Carleton one day about it, as they walked in the +garden. + +“Father,” he said, “I am puzzled. What has come to my wife? Have you not +noticed how she has not spoken for three days. Do you think she dislikes +Mistress Atherton. If I thought that--” + +“No, sir,” said the priest. “I do not think it is that. I think it is +the other way about. She did dislike her--but not now.” + +“You do not think, Mistress Atherton is--is a little--discourteous and +sharp sometimes. I have wondered whether that was so. Chris thinks not, +however.” + +“Neither do I, sir. I think--I think it is all very well as it is. I +hope Mistress Atherton is to stay yet a while.” + +“She speaks of going in a week or two,” said the old man. “She has been +here six weeks now.” + +“I hope not,” said the priest, “since you have asked my opinion, sir.” + +Sir James sighed, looked at the other, and then left him, to search for +his wife and see if she wanted him. He was feeling a little sorry for +her. + + * * * * * + +A week later the truth began to come out, and Beatrice had the +opportunity for which she was waiting. + +They were all gathered before the hall-fire expecting supper; the +painted windows had died with the daylight, and the deep tones of the +woodwork in gallery and floor and walls had crept out from the gloom +into the dancing flare of the fire and the steady glow of the sconces. +The weather had broken a day or two before; all the afternoon sheets of +rain had swept across the fields and gardens, and heavy cheerless +clouds marched over the sky. The wind was shrilling now against the +north side of the hall, and one window dripped a little inside on to the +matting below it. The supper-table shone with silver and crockery, and +the napkins by each place; and the door from the kitchen was set wide +for the passage of the servants, one of whom waited discreetly in the +opening for the coming of the lady of the house. They were all there but +she; and the minutes went by and she did not come. + +Sir James turned enquiringly as the door from the court opened, but it +was only a wet shivering dog who had nosed it open, and now crept +deprecatingly towards the blaze. + +“You poor beast,” said Beatrice, drawing her skirts aside. “Take my +place,” and she stepped away to allow him to come. He looked gratefully +up, wagged his rat-tail, and lay down comfortably at the edge of the +tiles. + +“My wife is very late,” said Sir James. “Chris--” + +He stopped as footsteps sounded in the flagged passage leading from the +living rooms; and the next moment the door was flung open, and a woman +ran forward with outstretched hands. + +“O! mon Dieu, mon Dieu!” she cried. “My lady is ill. Come, sir, come!” + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE ELDER SON + + +Ralph had prospered exceedingly since his return from the Sussex +Visitation. He had been sent on mission after mission by Cromwell, who +had learnt at last how wholly he could be trusted; and with each success +his reputation increased. It seemed to Cromwell that his man was more +whole-hearted than he had been at first; and when he was told abruptly +by Ralph that his relations with Mistress Atherton had come to an end, +the politician was not slow to connect cause and effect. He had always +regretted the friendship; it seemed to him that his servant’s character +was sure to be weakened by his alliance with a friend of Master More; +and though he had said nothing--for Ralph’s manner did not encourage +questions--he had secretly congratulated both himself and his agent for +so happy a termination to an unfortunate incident. + +For the meantime Ralph’s fortunes rose with his master’s; Lord Cromwell +now reigned in England next after the King in both Church and State. He +held a number of offices, each of which would have been sufficient for +an ordinary man, but all of which did not overtax his amazing energy. He +stood absolutely alone, with all the power in his hands; President of +the Star Chamber, Foreign Minister, Home-Minister, and the Vicar-General +of the Church; feared by Churchmen, distrusted by statesmen and nobles; +and hated by all except his own few personal friends--an unique figure +that had grown to gigantic stature through sheer effort and adroitness. + +And beneath his formidable shadow Ralph was waxing great. He had failed +to get Lewes for himself, for Cromwell designed it for Gregory his son; +but he was offered his choice among several other great houses. For the +present he hesitated to choose; uncertain of his future. If his father +died there would be Overfield waiting for him, so he did not wish to tie +himself to one of the far-away Yorkshire houses; if his father lived, he +did not wish to be too near him. There was no hurry, said Cromwell; +there would be houses and to spare for the King’s faithful servants; and +meantime it would be better for Mr. Torridon to remain in Westminster, +and lay his foundations of prosperity deeper and wider yet before +building. The title too that Cromwell dangled before him sometimes--that +too could wait until he had chosen his place of abode. + +Ralph felt that he was being magnificently treated by his master; and +his gratitude and admiration grew side by side with his rising fortune. +There was no niggardliness, now that Cromwell had learnt to trust in +him; he could draw as much money as he wished for the payment of his +under-agents, or for any other purpose; and no questions were asked. + +The little house at Westminster grew rich in treasures; his bed-coverlet +was the very cope he had taken from Rusper; his table was heavy with +chalices beaten into secular shape; his fire-screen was a Spanish +chasuble taken in the North. His servants were no longer three or four +sleeping in the house; there was a brigade of them, some that attended +for orders morning by morning, some that skirmished for him in the +country and returned rich in documents and hearsay; and a dozen waited +on his personal wants. + +He dealt too with great folks. Half a dozen abbots had been to see him +in the last year or two, stately prelates that treated him as an equal +and pleaded for his intercession; the great nobles, enemies of his +master and himself, eyed him with respectful suspicion as he walked with +Cromwell in Westminster Hall. The King had pulled his ears and praised +him; Ralph had stayed at Greenwich a week at a time when the execution +of the Benedictine abbots was under discussion; he had ridden down +Cheapside with Henry on his right and Cromwell beyond, between the +shouting crowds and beneath the wild tossing of gold-cloth and tapestry +and the windy pealing of a hundred brazen bells. He had gone up with +Norfolk to Doncaster, a mouth through which the King might promise and +threaten, and had strode up the steps beside the Duke to make an end of +the insurgent-leaders of the northern rebellion. + +He did not lack a goad, beside that of his own ambition, to drive him +through this desperate stir; he found a sufficient one in his memory. He +did not think much of his own family, except with sharp contempt. He did +not even trouble to make any special report about Chris or Margaret; but +it was impossible to remember Beatrice with contempt. When she had left +him kneeling at his table, she had left something besides--the sting of +her words, and the bitter coldness of her eyes. + +As he looked back he did not know whether he loathed her or loved her; +he only knew that she affected him profoundly. Again and again as he +dealt brutally with some timid culprit, or stood with his hand on his +hip to direct the destruction of a shrine, the memory whipped him on his +raw soul. He would show her whether he were a man or no; whether he +depended on her or no; whether her woman’s tongue could turn him or no. + + * * * * * + +He was exercised now with very different matters. Religious affairs for +the present had fallen into a secondary place, and home and foreign +politics absorbed most of Cromwell’s energies and time. Forces were +gathering once more against England, and the Catholic powers were coming +to an understanding with one another against the country that had thrown +off allegiance to the Pope and the Empire. There was an opportunity, +however, for Henry’s propensity to marriage once more to play a part in +politics; he had been three years without a wife; and Cromwell had +hastened for the third time to avail himself of the King’s passions as +an instrument in politics. He had understood that a union between +England and the Lutheran princes would cause a formidable obstacle to +Catholic machinations; and with this in view had excited Henry by a +description and a picture of the Lady Anne, daughter of the Duke of +Cleves and sister-in-law of the Elector of Saxony. He had been perfectly +successful in the first stages; the stout duchess had landed at Deal at +the end of December; and the marriage had been solemnised a few days +later. But unpleasant rumour had been busy ever since; it was whispered +far and wide that the King loathed his wife, and complained that he had +been deceived as to her charms; and Ralph, who was more behind the +scenes than most men, knew that the rumour was only too true. He had +been present at an abominable incident the day after the marriage had +taken place, when the King had stormed and raved about the council-room, +crying out that he had been deceived, and adding many gross details for +the benefit of his friends. + +Cromwell had been strangely moody ever since. Ralph had watched his +heavy face day after day staring vacantly across the room, and his hand +that held the pen dig and prick at the paper beneath it. + +Even that was not all. The Anglo-German alliance had provoked opposition +on the continent instead of quelling it; and Ralph saw more than one +threatening piece of news from abroad that hinted at a probable invasion +of England should Cromwell’s schemes take effect. These too, however, +had proved deceptive, and the Lutheran princes whom he had desired to +conciliate were even already beginning to draw back from the +consequences of their action. + +Ralph was in Cromwell’s room one day towards the end of January, when a +courier arrived with despatches from an agent who had been following the +Spanish Emperor’s pacific progress through France, undertaken as a kind +of demonstration against England. + +Cromwell tore open the papers, and glanced at them, running his quick +attentive eye over this page and that; and Ralph saw his face grow stern +and white. He tossed the papers on to the table, and nodded to the +courier to leave the room. + +Then he took up a pen, examined it; dashed it point down against the +table; gnawed his nails a moment, and then caught Ralph’s eye. + +“We are failing,” he said abruptly. “Mr. Torridon, if you are a rat you +had better run.” + +“I shall not run, sir,” said Ralph. + +“God’s Body!” said his master, “we shall all run together, I think;--but +not yet.” + +Then he took up the papers again, and began to read. + +It was a few days later that Ralph received the news of his mother’s +illness. + +She had written to him occasionally, telling him of his father’s +tiresome ways, his brother’s arrogance, his sister’s feeble piety, and +finally she had told him of Beatrice’s arrival. + +“I consented very gladly,” she had written, “for I thought to teach my +lady a lesson or two; but I find her very pert and obstinate. I do not +understand, my dear son, how you could have wished to make her your +wife; and yet I will grant that she has a taking way with her; she seems +to fear nothing but her own superstitions and folly, but I am very happy +to think that all is over between you. She never loved you, my Ralph; +for she cares nothing when I speak your name, as I have done two or +three times; nor yet Master More either. I think she has no heart.” + +Ralph had wondered a little as he read this, at his mother’s curious +interest in the girl; and he wondered too at the report of Beatrice’s +callousness. It was her damned pride, he assured himself. + +Then, one evening as he arrived home from Hackney where he had slept the +previous night, he found a messenger waiting for him. The letter had not +been sent on to him, as he had not left word where he was going. + +It contained a single line from his father. + +“Your mother is ill. Come at once. She wishes for you.” + + * * * * * + +It was in the stormy blackness of a February midnight that he rode up +through the lighted gatehouse to his home. Above the terrace as he came +up the road the tall hall-window glimmered faintly like a gigantic +luminous door hung in space; and the lower window of his father’s room +shone and faded as the fire leapt within. + +A figure rose up suddenly from before the hall-fire as he came in, +bringing with him a fierce gust of wet wind through the opened door; and +when he had slipped off his dripping cloak into his servant’s hands, he +saw that his father was there two yards away, very stern and white, with +outstretched hands. + +“My son,” said the old man, “you are too late. She died two hours ago.” + +It was a fierce shock, and for a moment he stood dazed, blinking at the +light, holding his father’s warm slender hands in his own, and trying to +assimilate the news. He had been driven inwards, and his obstinacy +weakened, during that long ride from town through the stormy sunset into +the black, howling night; memories had reasserted themselves on the +strength of his anxiety; and the past year or two slipped from him, and +left him again the eldest son of the house and of his two parents. + +Then as he looked into the pale bearded face before him, and the eyes +which had looked into his own a few months ago with such passionate +anger, he remembered all that was between them, dropped the hands and +went forward to the fire. + +His father followed him and stood by him there as he spread his fingers +to the blaze, and told him the details, in short detached sentences. + +She had been seized with pain and vomiting on the previous night at +supper time; the doctor had been sent for, and had declared the illness +to be an internal inflammation. She had grown steadily worse on the +following day, with periods of unconsciousness; she had asked for Ralph +an hour after she had been taken ill; the pain had seemed to become +fiercer as the hours went on; she had died at ten o’clock that night. + +Ralph stood there and listened, his head pressed against the high +mantelpiece, and his fingers stretching and closing mechanically to +supple the stiffened joints. + +“Mistress Atherton was with her all the while,” said his father; “she +asked for her.” + +Ralph shot a glance sideways, and down again. + +“And--” he began. + +“Yes; she was shriven and anointed, thank God; she could not receive +Viaticum.” + +Ralph did not know whether he was glad or sorry at that news. It was a +proper proceeding at any rate; as proper as the candles and the shroud +and the funeral rites. As regards grief, he did not feel it yet; but he +was aware of a profound sensation in his soul, as of a bruise. + +There was silence for a moment or two; then the wind bellowed suddenly +in the chimney, the tall window gave a crack of sound, and the smoke +eddied out into the room. Ralph turned round. + +“They are with her still,” said Sir James; “we can go up presently.” + +The other shook his head abruptly. + +“No,” he said, “I will wait until to-morrow. Which is my room?” + +“Your old room,” said his father. “I have had a truckle-bed set there +for your man. Will you find your way? I must stay here for Mistress +Atherton.” + +Ralph nodded sharply, and went out, down the hill. + + * * * * * + +It was half an hour more before Beatrice appeared; and then Sir James +looked up from his chair at the sound of a footstep and saw her coming +up the matted floor. Her face was steady and resolute, but there were +dark patches under her eyes, for she had not slept for two nights. + +Sir James stood up, and held out his hands. + +“Ralph has come,” he said. “He is gone to his room. Where are the +others?” + +“The priests are at prayers and Meg too,” she said. “It is all ready, +sir. You may go up when you please.” + +“I must say a word first,” said Sir James. “Sit down, Mistress +Atherton.” + +He drew forward his chair for her; and himself stood up on the hearth, +leaning his head on his hand and looking down into the fire. + +“It is this,” he said: “May our Lord reward you for what you have done +for us.” + +Beatrice was silent. + +“You know she asked my pardon,” he said, “when we were left alone +together. You do not know what that means. And she gave me her +forgiveness for all my folly--” + +Beatrice drew a sharp breath in spite of herself. + +“We have both sinned,” he went on; “we did not understand one another; +and I feared we should part so. That we have not, we have to thank +you--” + +His old voice broke suddenly; and Beatrice heard him draw a long sobbing +breath. She knew she ought to speak, but her brain was bewildered with +the want of sleep and the long struggle; she could not think of a word +to say; she felt herself on the verge of hysteria. + +“You have done it all,” he said again presently. “She took all that Mr. +Carleton said patiently enough, he told me. It is all your work. +Mistress Atherton--” + +She looked up questioningly with her bright tired eyes. + +“Mistress Atherton; may I know what you said to her?” + +Beatrice made a great effort and recovered her self-control. + +“I answered her questions,” she said. + +“Questions? Did she ask you of the Faith? Did she speak of me? Am I +asking too much?” + +Beatrice shook her head. For a moment again she could not speak. + +“I am asking what I should not,” said the old man. + +“No, no,” cried the girl, “you have a right to know. Wait, I will tell +you--” + +Again she broke off, and felt her own breath begin to sob in her throat. +She buried her face in her hands a moment. + +“God forgive me,” said the other. “I--” + +“It was about your son Ralph,” said Beatrice bravely, though her lips +shook. + +“She--she asked whether I had ever loved him at all--and--” + +“Mistress Beatrice, Mistress Beatrice, I entreat you not to say more.” + +“And I told her--yes; and, yes--still.” + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MUMMERS + + +It was a strange meeting for Beatrice and Ralph the next morning. She +saw him first from the gallery in chapel at mass, kneeling by his +father, motionless and upright, and watched him go down the aisle when +it was over. She waited a few minutes longer, quieting herself, +marshalling her forces, running her attention over each movement or word +that might prove unruly in his presence; and then she got up from her +knees and went down. + +It had been an intolerable pain to tell the dying woman that she loved +her son; it tore open the wound again, for she had never yet spoken that +secret aloud to any living soul, not even to her own. When the question +came, as she knew it would, she had not hesitated an instant as to the +answer, and yet the answer had materialised what had been impalpable +before. + +As she had looked down from the gallery this morning she knew that she +hated, in theory, every detail of his outlook on life; he was brutal, +insincere; he had lied to her; he was living on the fruits of sacrilege; +he had outraged every human tie he possessed; and yet she loved every +hair of his dark head, every movement of his strong hands. It was that +that had broken down the mother’s reserve; she had been beaten by the +girl’s insolence, as a dog is beaten into respect; she had only one +thing that she had not been able to forgive, and that was that this +girl had tossed aside her son’s love; then the question had been asked +and answered; and the work had been done. The dying woman had +surrendered wholly to the superior personality; and had obeyed like a +child. + + * * * * * + +She had a sense of terrible guilt as she went downstairs into the +passage that opened on the court; the fact that she had put into words +what had lain in her heart, made her fancy that the secret was written +on her face. Then again she drove the imagination down by sheer will; +she knew that she had won back her self-control, and could trust her own +discretion. + +Their greeting was that of two acquaintances. There was not the tremor +of an eyelid of either, or a note in either voice, that betrayed that +their relations had once been different. Ralph thanked her courteously +for her attention to his mother; and she made a proper reply. Then they +all sat down to breakfast. + +Then Margaret had to be attended to, for she was half-wild with remorse; +she declared to Beatrice when they went upstairs together that she had +been a wicked daughter, that she had resented her mother’s words again +and again, had behaved insolently, and so forth. Beatrice took her in +her arms. + +“My dear,” she said, “indeed you must leave all that now. Come and see +her; she is at peace, and you must be.” + +The bedroom where Lady Torridon had died was arranged as a _chapelle +ardente;_ the great bed had been moved out into the centre of the room. +Six tall candlesticks with escutcheons and yellow tapers formed a +slender mystical wall of fire and light about it; the windows were +draped; a couple of kneeling desks were set at the foot of the bed. +Chris was kneeling at one beside his father as they went in, and Mary +Maxwell, who had arrived a few hours before death had taken place, was +by herself in a corner. + +Beatrice drew Margaret to the second desk, pushed the book to her, and +knelt by her. There lay the body of the strange, fierce, lonely woman, +with her beautiful hands crossed, pale as wax, with a crucifix between +them; and those great black eyebrows beyond, below which lay the double +reverse curve of the lashes. It seemed as if she was watching them both, +as her manner had been in life, with a tranquil cynicism. + +And was she at peace, thought Beatrice, as she had told her daughter +just now? Was it possible to believe that that stormy, vicious spirit +had been quieted so suddenly? And yet that would be no greater miracle +than that which death had wrought to the body. If the one was so still, +why not the other? At least she had asked pardon of her husband for +those years of alienation; she had demanded the sacraments of the +Church! + +Beatrice bowed her head, and prayed for the departed soul. + + * * * * * + +She was disturbed by the soft opening of a door, and lifted her eyes to +see Ralph stand a moment by the head of the bed, before he sank on his +knees. She could watch every detail of his face in the candlelight; his +thin tight lips, his heavy eyebrows so like his mother’s, his curved +nostrils, the clean sharp line of his jaw. + +She found herself analysing his processes of thought. His mother had +been the one member of his family with whom he had had sympathy; they +understood one another, these two bitter souls, as no one else did, +except perhaps Beatrice herself. How aloof they had stood from all +ordinary affections; how keen must have been their dual loneliness! And +what did this snapped thread mean to him now? To what, in his opinion, +did the broken end lead that had passed out from the visible world to +the invisible? Did he think that all was over, and that the one soul +that had understood his own had passed like a candle flame into the +dark? And she too--was she crying for her son, a thin soundless sobbing +in the world beyond sight? Above all, did he understand how alone he was +now--how utterly, eternally alone, unless he turned his course? + +A great well of pity broke up and surged in her heart, flooding her eyes +with tears, as she looked at the living son and the dead mother; and she +dropped her head on her hands again, and prayed for his soul as well as +for hers. + + * * * * * + +It was a very strange atmosphere in the house during the day or two that +passed before the funeral. The household met at meals and in the parlour +and chapel, but seldom at other times. Ralph was almost invisible; and +silent when he appeared. There were no explanations on either side; he +behaved with a kind of distant courtesy to the others, answered their +questions, volunteered a word or two sometimes; made himself useful in +small ways as regarded giving orders to the servants, inspecting the +funeral standard and scutcheons, and making one or two arrangements +which fell to him naturally; and went out by himself on horseback or on +foot during the afternoon. His contempt seemed to have fallen from him; +he was as courteous to Chris as to the others; but no word was spoken on +either side as regarded either the past and the great gulf that +separated him from the others, or the future relations between him and +his home. + +The funeral took place three days after death, on the Saturday morning; +a requiem was sung in the presence of the body in the parish church; and +Beatrice sat with the mourners in the Torridon chapel behind the black +hearse set with lights, before the open vault in the centre of the +pavement. Ralph sat two places beyond her, with Sir James between; and +she was again vividly conscious of his presence, of his movements as he +knelt and sat; and again she wondered what all the solemn ceremonies +meant to him, the yellow candles, the black vestments, the mysterious +hallowing of the body with incense and water--counteracting, as it were, +with fragrance and brightness, the corruption and darkness of the grave. + +She walked back with Margaret, who clung to her now, almost desperately, +finding in her sane serenity an antidote to her own remorse; and as she +walked through the garden and across the moat, with Nicholas and Mary +coming behind, she watched the three men going in front, Sir James in +the middle, the monk on his left, and the slow-stepping Ralph on his +right, and marvelled at the grim acting. + +There they went, the father and his two sons, side by side in courteous +silence--she noticed Ralph step forward to lift the latch of the +garden-gate for the others to pass through--and between them lay an +impassable gulf; she found herself wondering whether the other gulf that +they had looked into half an hour before were so deep or wide. + +She was out again with Sir James alone in the evening before supper, and +learnt from him then that Ralph was to stay till Monday. + +“He has not spoken to me of returning again,” said the old man. “Of +course it is impossible. Do you not think so, Mistress Atherton.” + +“It is impossible,” she said. “What good would be served?” + +“What good?” repeated the other. + +The evening was falling swiftly, layer on layer of twilight, as they +turned to come back to the house. The steeple of the church rose up on +their left, slender and ghostly against the yellow sky, out of the black +yews and cypresses that lay banked below it. They stopped and looked at +it a moment, as it aspired to heaven from the bones that lay about its +base, like an eternal resurrection wrought in stone. There all about it +were the mortal and the dead; the stones and iron slabs leaned, as they +knew, in hundreds about the grass; and round them again stood the roofs, +beginning now to kindle under the eaves, where the living slept and ate. +There was a rumbling of heavy carts somewhere beyond the village, a +crack or two of a whip, the barking of a dog. + +Then they turned again and went up to the house. + + * * * * * + +It was the chaplain who was late this evening for supper. The others +waited a few minutes by the fire, but there was no sign of him. A +servant was sent up to his room and came back to report that he had +changed his cassock and gone out; a boy had come from the parish-priest, +said the man, ten minutes before, and Mr. Carleton had probably been +sent for. + +They waited yet five minutes, but the priest did not appear, and they +sat down. Supper was nearly over before he came. He came in by the +side-door from the court, splashed with mud, and looking pale and +concerned. He went straight up to Sir James. + +“May I speak with you, sir?” he said. + +The old man got up at once, and went down the hall with him. + +The rest waited, expecting them to return, but there was no sign of +them; and Ralph at last rose and led the way to the oak-parlour. As they +passed the door of Sir James’s room they heard the sound of voices +within. + +Conversation was a very difficult matter that evening. Ralph had behaved +with considerable grace and tact, but Nicholas had not responded. Ever +since his arrival on the day before the funeral he had eyed Ralph like a +strange dog intruded into a house; Mary had hovered round her husband, +watchful and anxious, stepping hastily into gaps in the conversation, +sliding in a sentence or two as Nicholas licked his lips in preparation +for a snarl; once even putting her hand swiftly on his and drowning a +growl with a word of her own. Ralph had been wonderfully +self-controlled; only once had Beatrice seen him show his teeth for a +moment as his brother-in-law had scowled more plainly than usual. + +The atmosphere was charged to-night, now that the master of the house +was away; and as Ralph took his seat in his father’s chair, Beatrice had +caught her breath for a moment as she saw the look on Nicholas’s face. +It seemed as if the funeral had lifted a stone that had hitherto held +the two angry spirits down; Nicholas, after all, was but a son-in-law, +and Ralph, to his view at least, a bad son. She feared that both might +think that a quarrel did not outrage decency; but she feared for +Nicholas more than for Ralph. + +Ralph appeared not to notice the other’s scowl, and leaned easily back, +his head against the carved heraldry, and rapped his fingers softly and +rhythmically on the bosses of the arms. + +Then she heard Nicholas draw a slow venomous breath; and the talk died +on Mary’s lips. Beatrice stood up abruptly, in desperation; she did not +know what to say; but the movement checked Nicholas, and he glanced at +her a moment. Then Mary recovered herself, put her hand sharply on her +husband’s, and slid out an indifferent sentence. Beatrice saw Ralph’s +eyes move swiftly and sideways and down again, and a tiny wrinkle of a +smile show itself at the corners of his mouth. But that danger was +passed; and a minute later they heard the door of Sir James’s room +opposite open, and the footsteps of the two men come out. + +Ralph stood up at once as his father came in, followed by the priest, +and stepped back to the window-seat; there was the faintest hint in the +slight motion of his hands to the effect that he had held his post as +the eldest son until the rightful owner came. But the consciousness of +it in Beatrice’s mind was swept away as she looked at the old man, +standing with a white stern face and his hands clenched at his sides. +She could see that something impended, and stood up quickly. + +“Mr. Carleton has brought shocking news,” he said abruptly; and his eyes +wandered to his eldest son standing in the shadow of the curtain. “A +company of mummers has arrived in the village--they--they are to give +their piece to-morrow.” + +There was a dead silence for a moment, for all knew what this meant. + +Nicholas sprang to his feet. + +“By God, they shall not!” he said. + +Sir James lifted his hand sharply. + +“We cannot hinder it,” he said. “The priests have done what they can. +The fellow tells them--” he paused, and again his eyes wandered to +Ralph--“the fellow tells them he is under the protection of my Lord +Cromwell.” + +There was a swift rustle in the room. Nicholas faced sharply round to +the window-seat, his hands clenched and his face quivering. Ralph did +not move. + +“Tell them, father,” said Sir James. + +The chaplain gave his account. He had been sent for by the parish priest +just before supper, and had gone with him to the barn that had been +hired for the performance. The carts had arrived that evening from +Maidstone; and were being unpacked. He had seen the properties; they +were of the usual kind--all the paraphernalia for the parody of the Mass +that was usually given by such actors. He had seen the vestments, the +friar’s habit, the red-nosed mask, the woman’s costume and wig--all the +regular articles. The manager had tried to protest against the priests’ +entrance; had denied at first that any insult was intended to the +Catholic Religion; and had finally taken refuge in defiance; he had +flung out the properties before their eyes; had declared that no one +could hinder him from doing as he pleased, since the Archbishop had not +protested; and Lord Cromwell had given him his express sanction. + +“We did all we were able,” said the priest. “Master Rector said he would +put all the parishioners who came, under the ban of the Church; the +fellow snapped his fingers in his face. I told them of Sir James’s +wishes; the death of my Lady--it was of no avail. We can do nothing.” + +The priest’s sallow face was flushed with fury as he spoke; and his lips +trembled piteously with horror and pain. It was the first time that the +mummers had been near Overfield; they had heard tales of them from other +parts of the country, but had hoped that their own village would escape +the corruption. And now it had come. + +He stood shaking, as he ended his account. + +“Mr. Carleton says it would be of no avail for me to go down myself. I +wished to. We can do nothing.” + +Again he glanced at Ralph, who had sat down silently in the shadow while +the priest talked. + +Nicholas could be restrained no longer. He shook off his wife’s hand and +took a step across the room. + +“And you--you sit there, you devil!” he shouted. + +Sir James was with him in a moment, so swiftly that Beatrice did not see +him move. Margaret was clinging to her now, whispering and sobbing. + +“Nick,” snapped out the old man, “hold your tongue, sir. Sit down.” + +“God’s Blood!” bellowed the squire. “You bid me sit down.” + +Sir James gripped him so fiercely that he stepped back. + +“I bid you sit down,” he said. “Ralph, will you help us?” + +Ralph stood up instantly. He had not stirred a muscle as Nick shouted at +him. + +“I waited for that, sir,” he said. “What is it you would have me do?” + +Beatrice saw that his face was quite quiet as he spoke; his eyelids +drooped a little; and his mouth was tight and firm. He seemed not to be +aware of Nicholas’s presence. + +“To hinder the play-acting,” said his father. + +There fell a dead silence again. + +“I will do it, sir,” said his son. “It--it is but decent.” + +And in the moment of profound astonishment that fell, he came straight +across the room, passed by them all without turning his head, and went +out. + +Beatrice felt a fierce emotion grip her throat as she looked after him, +and saw the door close. Then Margaret seized her again, and she turned +to quiet her. + +She was aware that Sir James had gone out after his son, after a moment +of silence, and she heard his footsteps pass along the flags outside. + +“Oh! God bless him!” sobbed Margaret. + +Sir James came back immediately, shook his head, went across the room, +and sat down in the seat that Ralph had left. A dreadful stillness fell. +Margaret was quiet now. Mary was sitting with her husband on the other +side of the hearth. Chris rose presently and sat down by his father, but +no one spoke a word. + +Then Nicholas got up uneasily, came across the room, and stood with his +back to the hearth warming himself. Beatrice saw him glance now and +again to the shadowed window-seat where the two men sat; he hummed a +note or two to himself softly; then turned round and stared at the fire +with outstretched hands. + +The bell rang for prayers, and still without a word being spoken they +all got up and went out. + +In the same silence they came back. Ralph’s servant was standing by the +door as they entered. + +“If you please, sir, Mr. Ralph is come in. He bade me tell you that all +is arranged.” + +The old man looked at him, swallowed once in his throat; and at last +spoke. + +“It is arranged, you say? It will not take place?” + +“It will not take place, sir.” + +“Where is Mr. Ralph?” + +“He is gone to his room, sir. He bade me tell you he would be leaving +early for London.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A CATASTROPHE + + +Ralph rode away early next morning, yet not so early as to escape an +interview with his father. They met in the hall, Sir James in his loose +morning gown and Ralph booted and spurred with his short cloak and tight +cap. The old man took him by the sleeve, drawing him to the fire that +burned day and night in winter. + +“Ralph--Ralph, my son,” he said, “I must thank you for last night.” + +“You have to thank yourself only, sir, and my mother. I could do no +otherwise.” + +“It is you--” began his father. + +“It is certainly not Nick, sir. The hot fool nearly provoked me.” + +“But you hate such mummery yourself, my son?” + +Ralph hesitated. + +“It is not seemly--” began his father again. + +“It is certainly not seemly; but neither are the common folk seemly.” + +“Did you have much business with them, my son?” Ralph smiled in the +firelight. + +“Why, no, sir. I told them who I was. I charged myself with the burden.” + +“And you will not be in trouble with my Lord?” + +“My Lord has other matters to think of than a parcel of mummers.” + +Then they separated; and Ralph rode down the drive with his servants +behind him. Neither father nor son had said a word of any return. +Neither had Ralph had one private word with Beatrice during his three +days’ stay. Once he had come into the parlour to find her going out at +the other door; and he had wondered whether she had heard his step and +gone out on purpose. But he knew very well that under the superficial +courtesy between him and her there lay something deeper--some passionate +emotion vibrated like a beam between them; but he did not know, even on +his side and still less on hers, whether that emotion were one of love +or loathing. It was partly from the discomfort of the charged +atmosphere, partly from a shrinking from thanks and explanations that he +had determined to go up to London a day earlier than he had intended; he +had a hatred of personal elaborateness. + + * * * * * + +He found Cromwell, on his arrival in London, a little less moody than he +had been in the previous week; for he was busy with preparations for the +Parliament that was to meet in April; and to the occupation that this +gave him there was added a good deal of business connected with Henry’s +negotiations with the Emperor. The dispute, that at present centred +round the treatment of Englishmen in Spain, and other similar matters, +in reality ran its roots far deeper; and there were a hundred details +which occupied the minister. But there was still a hint of storm in the +air; Cromwell spoke brusquely once or twice without cause, and Ralph +refrained from saying anything about the affair at Overfield, but took +up his own work again quietly. + +A fortnight later, however, he heard of it once more. + +He was sitting at a second table in Cromwell’s own room in the Rolls +House, when one of the secretaries came up with a bundle of reports, and +laid them as usual before Ralph. + +Ralph finished the letter he was engaged on--one to Dr. Barnes who had +preached a Protestant sermon at Paul’s Cross, and who now challenged +Bishop Gardiner to a public disputation. Ralph was telling him to keep +his pugnacity to himself; and when he had done took up the reports and +ran his eyes over them. + +They were of the usual nature--complaints, informations, protests, +appeals from men of every rank of life; agents, farm-labourers, priests, +ex-Religious, fanatics--and he read them quickly through, docketing +their contents at the head of each that his master might be saved +trouble. + +At one, however, he stopped, glanced momentarily at Cromwell, and then +read on. + +It was an illiterate letter, ill-spelt and smudged, and consisted of a +complaint from a man who signed himself Robert Benham, against “Mr. +Ralph Torridon, as he named himself,” for hindering the performance of a +piece entitled “The Jolly Friar” in the parish of Overfield, on Sunday, +February the first. Mr. Torridon, the writer stated, had used my Lord +Cromwell’s name and authority in stopping the play; expenses had been +incurred in connection with it, for a barn had been hired, and the +transport of the properties had cost money; and Mr. Benham desired to +know whether these expenses would be made good to him, and if Mr. +Torridon had acted in accordance with my Lord’s wishes. + +Ralph bit his pen in some perplexity, when he had finished making out +the document. He wondered whether he had better show it to Cromwell; it +might irritate him or not, according to his mood. If it was destroyed +surely no harm would be done; and yet Ralph had a disinclination to +destroy it. He sat a moment or two longer considering; once he took the +paper by the corners to tear it; then laid it down again; glanced once +more at the heavy intent face a couple of yards away, and then by a +sudden impulse took up his pen and wrote a line on the corner explaining +the purport of the paper, initialled it, and laid it with the rest. + +Cromwell was so busy during the rest of the day that there was no +opportunity to explain the circumstances to him; indeed he was hardly in +the room again, so great was the crowd that waited on him continually +for interviews, and Ralph went away, leaving the reports for his chief +to examine at his leisure. + + * * * * * + +The next morning there was a storm. + +Cromwell burst out on him as soon as he came in. + +“Shut the door, Mr. Torridon,” he snapped. “I must have a word with +you.” + +Ralph closed the door and came across to Cromwell’s table and stood +there, apparently imperturbable, but with a certain quickening of his +pulse. + +“What is this, sir?” snarled the other, taking up the letter that was +laid at his hand. “Is it true?” + +Ralph looked at him coolly. + +“What is it, my Lord? Mr. Robert Benham?” + +“Yes, Mr. Robert Benham. Is it true? I wish an answer.” + +“Certainly, my Lord. It is true.” + +“You hindered this piece being played? And you used my name?” + +“I told them who I was--yes.” + +Cromwell slapped the paper down. + +“Well, that is to use my name, is it not, Mr. Torridon?” + +“I suppose it is.” + +“You suppose it is! And tell me, if you please, why you hindered it.” + +“I hindered it because it was not decent. My mother had been buried +that day. My father asked me to do so.” + +“Not decent! When the mummers have my authority! + +“If your Lordship does not understand the indecency, I cannot explain +it.” + +Ralph was growing angry now. It was not often that Cromwell treated him +like a naughty boy; and he was beginning to resent it. + +The other stared at him under black brows. + +“You are insolent, sir.” + +Ralph bowed. + +“See here,” said Cromwell, “my men must have no master but me. They must +leave houses and brethren and sisters for my sake. You should understand +that by now; and that I repay them a hundredfold. You have been long +enough in my service to know it. I have said enough. You can sit down, +Mr. Torridon.” + +Ralph went to his seat in a storm of fury. He felt he was supremely in +the right--in the right in stopping the play, and still more so for not +destroying the complaint when it was in his hands. He had been scolded +like a school-child, insulted and shouted down. His hand shook as he +took up his pen, and he kept his back resolutely turned to his master. +Once he was obliged to ask him a question, and he did so with an icy +aloofness. Cromwell answered him curtly, but not unkindly, and he went +to his seat again still angry. + +When dinner-time came near, he rose, bowed slightly to Cromwell and went +towards the door. As his fingers touched the handle he heard his name +called; and turned round to see the other looking at him oddly. + +“Mr. Torridon--you will dine with me?” + +“I regret I cannot, my Lord,” said Ralph; and went out of the room. + + * * * * * + +There were no explanations or apologies on either side when they met +again; but in a few days their behaviour to one another was as usual. +Yet underneath the smooth surface Ralph’s heart rankled and pricked with +resentment. + + * * * * * + +At the meeting of Parliament in April, the business in Cromwell’s hands +grew more and more heavy and distracting. + +Ralph went with him to Westminster, and heard him deliver his eloquent +little speech on the discord that prevailed in England, and the King’s +determination to restore peace and concord. + +“On the Word of God,” cried the statesman, speaking with extraordinary +fervour, his eyes kindling as he looked round the silent crowded +benches, and his left hand playing with his chain. “On the Word of God +His Highness’ princely mind is fixed; on this Word he depends for his +sole support; and with all his might his Majesty will labour that error +shall be taken away, and true doctrines be taught to his people, +modelled by the rule of the Gospel.” + +Three days later when Ralph came into his master’s room, Cromwell looked +up at him with a strange animation in his dark eyes. + +“Good-day, sir,” he said; “I have news that I hope will please you. His +Grace intends to confer on me one more mark of his favour. I am to be +Earl of Essex.” + +It was startling news. Ralph had supposed that the minister was not +standing so high with the King as formerly, since the unfortunate +incident of the Cleves marriage. He congratulated him warmly. + +“It is a happy omen,” said the other. “Let us pray that it be a +constellation and not a single star. There are others of my friends, Mr. +Torridon, who have claim to His Highness’ gratitude.” + +He looked at him smiling; and Ralph felt his heart quicken once more, as +it always did, at the hint of an honour for himself. + +The business of Parliament went on; and several important bills became +law. A land-act was followed by one that withdrew from most of the towns +of England the protection of a sanctuary in the case of certain +specified crimes; the navy was dealt with; and then in spite of the +promises of the previous years a heavy money-bill was passed. Finally +five more Catholics, four priests and a woman, were attainted for high +treason on various charges. + + * * * * * + +Ralph was not altogether happy as May drew on. There began to be signs +that his master’s policy with regard to the Cleves alliance was losing +ground in the councils of the State; but Cromwell himself seemed to +acquiesce, so it appeared as if his own mind was beginning to change. +There was a letter to Pate, the ambassador to the Emperor, that Ralph +had to copy one day, and he gathered from it that conciliation was to be +used towards Charles in place of the old defiance. + +But he did not see much of Parliament affairs this month. + +Cromwell had told him to sort a large quantity of private papers that +had gradually accumulated in Ralph’s own house at Westminster; for that +he desired the removal of most of them to his own keeping. + +They were an enormous mass of documents, dealing with every sort and +kind of the huge affairs that had passed through Cromwell’s hands for +the last five years. They concerned hundreds of persons, living and +dead--statesmen, nobles, the foreign Courts, priests, Religious, +farmers, tradesmen--there was scarcely a class that was not represented +there. + +Ralph sat hour after hour in his chair with locked doors, sorting, +docketting, and destroying; and amazed by this startling object-lesson +of the vast work in which he had had a hand. There were secrets there +that would burst like a bomb if they were made public--intrigues, +bribes, threats, revelations; and little by little a bundle of the most +important documents accumulated on the table before him. The rest lay in +heaps on the floor. + +Those that he had set aside beneath his own eye were a miscellaneous set +as regarded their contents; the only unity between them lay in the fact +that they were especially perilous to Cromwell. Ralph felt as if he were +handling gunpowder as he took them up one by one or added to the heap. + +The new coronet that my Lord of Essex had lately put upon his head would +not be there another day, if these were made public. There would not be +left even a head to put it upon. Ralph knew that a great minister like +his master was bound to have a finger in very curious affairs; but he +had not recognised how exceptional these were, nor how many, until he +had the bundle of papers before him. There were cases in which persons +accused and even convicted of high treason had been set at liberty on +Cromwell’s sole authority without reference to the King; there were +commissions issued in his name under similar conditions; there were +papers containing drafts, in Cromwell’s own hand of statements of +doctrine declared heretical by the Six Articles, and of which copies had +been distributed through the country at his express order; there were +copies of letters to country-sheriffs ordering the release of convicted +heretics and the imprisonment of their accusers; there were evidences of +enormous bribes received by him for the perversion of justice. + +Ralph finished his task one June evening, and sat dazed with work and +excitement, his fingers soiled with ink, his tired eyes staring at the +neat bundle before him. + +The Privy Council, he knew, was sitting that afternoon. Even at this +moment, probably, my Lord of Essex was laying down the law, speaking in +the King’s name, silencing his opponents by sheer force of will, but +with the Royal power behind him. And here lay the papers. + +He imagined to himself with a fanciful recklessness what would happen if +he made his way into the Council-room, and laid them on the table. It +would be just the end of all things for his master. There would be no +more bullying and denouncing then on that side; it would be a matter of +a fight for life. + +The memory of his own grudge, only five months old, rose before his +mind; and his tired brain grew hot and cloudy with resentment. He took +up the bundle in his hand and wielded it a moment, as a man might test a +sword. Here was a headsman’s axe, ground and sharp. + +Then he was ashamed; set the bundle down again, leaned back in his chair +and stretched his arms, yawning. + +What a glorious evening it was! He must go out and take the air for a +little by the river; he would walk down towards Chelsea. + +He rose up from his chair and went to the window, threw it open and +leaned out. His house stood back a little from the street; and there was +a space of cobbled ground between his front-door and the uneven stones +of the thoroughfare. Opposite rose up one of the tall Westminster +houses, pushing forward in its upper stories, with a hundred diamond +panes bright in the slanting sunshine that poured down the street from +the west. Overhead rose up the fantastic stately chimneys, against the +brilliant evening sky, and to right and left the street passed out of +sight in a haze of sunlight. + +It was a very quiet evening; the men had not yet begun to stream +homewards from their occupations; and the women were busy within. A +chorus of birds sounded somewhere overhead; but there was not a living +creature to be seen except a dog asleep in the sunshine at the corner of +the gravel. + +It was delicious to lean out here, away from the fire that burned hot +and red in the grate under its black mass of papers that had been +destroyed,--out in the light and air. Ralph determined that he would let +the fire die now; it would not be needed again. + +He must go out, he told himself, and not linger here. He could lock up +the papers for the present in readiness for their transport next day; +and he wondered vaguely whether his hat and cane were in the +entrance-hall below. + +He straightened himself, and turned away from the window, noticing as he +did so the dog at the corner of the street sit up with cocked ears. He +hesitated and turned back. + +There was a sound of furious running coming up the street. He would just +see who the madman was who ran like this on a hot evening, and then go +out himself. + +As he leaned again the pulsating steps came nearer; they were coming +from the left, the direction of the Palace. + +A moment later a figure burst into sight, crimson-faced and hatless, +with arms gathered to the sides and head thrown back; it appeared to be +a gentleman by the dress--but why should he run like that? He dashed +across the opening and disappeared. + +Ralph was interested. He waited a minute longer; but the footsteps had +ceased; and he was just turning once more from the window, when another +sound made him stand and listen again. + +It came from the same direction as before; and at first he could not +make out what it was. There was a murmur and a pattering. + +It came nearer and louder; and he could distinguish once more running +footsteps. Were they after a thief? he wondered. The murmur and clatter +grew louder yet; and a second or two later two men burst into sight; +one, an apprentice with his leather apron flapping as he ran, the other +a stoutish man like a merchant. They talked and gesticulated as they +went. + +The murmur behind swelled up. There were the voices of many people, men +and women, talking, screaming, questioning. The dog was on his feet by +now, looking intently down the street. + +Then the first group appeared; half a dozen men walking fast or +trotting, talking eagerly. Ralph could not hear what they said. + +Then a number surged into sight all at once, jostling round a centre, +and a clamour went up to heaven. The dog trotted up suspiciously as if +to enquire. + +Ralph grew excited; he scarcely knew why. He had seen hundreds of such +crowds; it might mean anything, from a rise in butter to a declaration +of war. But there was something fiercely earnest about this mob. Was the +King ill? + +He leaned further from the window and shouted; but no one paid him the +slightest attention. The crowd shifted up the street, the din growing +as they went; there was a sound of slammed doors; windows opened +opposite and heads craned out. Something was shouted up and the heads +disappeared. + +Ralph sprang back from the window, as more and more surged into sight; +he went to his door, glancing at his papers as he ran across; unlocked +the door; listened a moment; went on to the landing and shouted for a +servant. + +There was a sound of footsteps and voices below; the men were already +alert, but no answer came to his call. He shouted again. + +“Who is there? Find out what the disturbance means.” + +There was an answer from one of his men; and the street door opened and +closed. Again he ran to the window, and saw his man run out without his +doublet across the court, and seize a woman by the arm. + +He waited in passionate expectancy; saw him drop the woman’s arm and +turn to another; and then run swiftly back to the house. + +There was something sinister in the man’s very movements across that +little space; he ran desperately, with his head craning forward; once he +stumbled; once he glanced up at his master; and Ralph caught a sight of +his face. + +Ralph was on the landing as the steps thundered upstairs, and met him at +the head of the flight. + +“Speak man; what is it?” + +The servant lifted a face stamped with terror, a couple of feet below +Ralph’s. + +“They--they say--” + +“What is it?” + +“They say that the King’s archers are about my Lord Essex’s house.” + +Ralph drew a swift breath. + +“Well?” + +“And that my Lord was arrested at the Council to-day.” + +Ralph turned, and in three steps was in his room again. The key clacked +in the lock. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A QUESTION OF LOYALTY + + +He did not know how long he stood there, with the bundle of papers +gripped in his two hands; and the thoughts racing through his brain. + +The noises in the street outside waned and waxed again, as the news +swept down the lanes, and recoiled with a wave of excited crowds +following it. Then again they died to a steady far-off murmur as the mob +surged and clamoured round the Palace and Abbey a couple of hundred +yards away. + +At last Ralph sat down; still holding the papers. He must clear his +brain; and how was that possible with the images flashing through it in +endless and vivid succession? For a while he could not steady himself; +the shock was bewildering; he could think of nothing but the appalling +drama. Essex was fallen! + +Then little by little the muddy current of thought began to run clear. +He began to understand what lay before him; and the question that still +awaited decision. + +His first instinct had been to dash the papers on to the fire and grind +them into the red heart of the wood; but something had checked him. Very +slowly he began to analyse that instinct. + +First, was it not useless? He knew he did not possess one hundredth part +of the incriminating evidence that was in existence. Of what service +would it be to his master to destroy that one small bundle? + +Next, what would be the result to himself if he did? It was known that +he was a trusted agent of the minister’s; his house would be searched; +papers would be found; it would be certainly known that he had made away +with evidence. There would be records of what he had, in the other +houses. And what then? + +On the other hand if he willingly gave up all that was in his +possession, it would go far to free him from complicity. + +Lastly, like a venomous snake lifting its head, his own private +resentment looked him in the eyes, and there was a new sting added to it +now. He had lost all, he knew well enough; wealth, honour and position +had in a moment shrunk to cinders with Cromwell’s fall, and for these +cinders he had lost Beatrice too. He had sacrificed her to his master; +and his master had failed him. A kind of fury succeeded to his dismay. + +Oh, would it not be sweet to add even one more stone to the mass that +was tottering over the head of that mighty bully, that had promised and +not performed? + +He blinked his eyes, shocked by the horror of the thought, and gripped +the bundle yet more firmly. The memories of a thousand kindnesses +received from his master cried at the door of his heart. The sweat +dropped from his forehead; he lifted a stiff hand to wipe it away, and +dropped it again into its grip on the papers. + +Then he slowly recapitulated to himself the reasons for not destroying +them. They were overwhelming, convincing! What was there to set against +them? One slender instinct only, that cried shrill and thin that in +honour he must burn that damning evidence--burn it--burn it--whether or +no it would help or hinder, it must be burnt! + +Then again he recurred to the other side; told himself that his +instinct was no more than a ludicrous sentimentality; he must be guided +by reason, not impulse. Then he glanced at the impulse again. Then the +two sides rushed together, locked in conflict. He moaned a little, and +lay back in his chair. + + * * * * * + +The bright sunlight outside had faded to a mellow evening atmosphere +before he moved again; and the fire had died to one dull core of +incandescence. + +As he stirred, he became aware that bells were pealing outside; a +melodious roar filled the air. Somewhere behind the house five brazen +voices, shouting all together, bellowed the exultation of the city over +the great minister’s fall. + +He was weary and stiff as he stood up; but the fever had left his brain; +and the decision had been made. He relaxed his fingers and laid the +bundle softly down on the table from which he had snatched it a couple +of hours before. + +They would be here soon, he knew; he wondered they had not come already. + +Leaving his papers there, he went out, taking the key with him, and +locking the door after him. He called up one of his men, telling him he +would be ready for supper immediately in the parlour downstairs, and +that any visitors who came for him were to be admitted at once. + +Then he passed into his bedroom to wash and change his clothes. + + * * * * * + +Half an hour later he came upstairs again. + +He had supped alone, listening and watching the window as he ate; but no +sign had come of any arrival. He had dressed with particular care, +intending to be found at his ease when the searchers did arrive; there +must be no sign of panic or anxiety. He had told his man as he rose +from table, to say to any that came for him that they were expected, and +to bring them immediately upstairs. + +He unlocked the door of his private room, and went in. All was as he had +left it; the floor between the window and table was white with ordered +heaps of papers; the bundle on the table itself glimmered where he had +laid it. + +The fire had sunk to a spark. He tenderly lifted off the masses of black +sheets that crackled as he touched them; it had not occurred to him +before that these evidences of even a harmless destruction had better be +removed; and he slid them carefully on to a broad sheet of paper, folded +it, shaking the ashes together as he did so, and stood a moment, +wondering where he should hide it. + +The room was growing dark now; he put the package down; went to the fire +and blew it up a little, added some wood, and presently the flames were +dancing on the broad hearth. + +As he stood up again he heard the knocker rap on his street-door. For a +moment he had an instinct to run to the window and see who was there; +but he put it aside; there was scarcely time to hide the ashes; and it +was best too to give no hint of anxiety. He lifted the package of burnt +papers once more, and stood hesitating; a press would be worse than +useless as a hiding-place; all such would of course be searched. Then a +thought struck him; he stood up noiselessly on his chair. The Holbein +portrait of Cromwell in his furred gown and chain leaned forward from +the tapestry over the mantelpiece. Ralph set one hand against the wall +at the side; and then tenderly let the package fall behind the portrait. +As he did so the painted and living eyes were on a level; it seemed +strange to him that the faces were so near together at that moment; and +it struck him with a grim irony that the master should be so protecting +the servant under these circumstances. + +Then he dropped lightly to the ground, and sat quickly in the chair, +snatching up the bundle of papers from the table as he did so. + +The steps were on the landing now; he heard the crack of the balustrade; +but it seemed they were coming very quietly. + +There was a moment’s silence; the muscles of his throat contracted +sharply, then there came the servant’s tap; the handle was turned. + +Ralph stood up quickly, still holding the papers, as the door opened, +and Beatrice stepped forward into the room. The door shut noiselessly +behind her. + + * * * * * + +She stood there, with the firelight playing on her dark loose-sleeved +mantle, the hood that surrounded her head, her pale face a little +flushed, and her black steady eyes. Her breath came quickly between her +parted lips. + +Ralph stared at her, dazed by the shock, still gripping the bundle of +papers. She moved forward a step; and the spell snapped. + +“Mistress Beatrice,” he said. + +“I have come,” she said; “what is it? You want me?” + +She came round the table, with an air of eager expectancy. + +“I--I did not know,” said Ralph. + +“But you wanted me. What is the matter? I heard you call.” + +Ralph stared again, bewildered. + +“Call?” he said. + +“Yes, I heard you. I was in my room at my aunt’s house--ah! a couple of +hours ago. You called me twice. ‘Beatrice! Beatrice!’ Then--then they +told me what had happened about my Lord Essex.” + +“I called you?” repeated Ralph. + +“Yes--you called me. Your voice was quite close to me, at my ear; I +thought you were in the room. Tell me what it is.” + +She loosened her hold of her mantle as she stood there by the table; and +it dropped open, showing a sparkle of jewels at her throat. She threw +back her hood, and it dropped on to her shoulders, leaving visible the +coiled masses of her black hair set with knots of ribbon. + +“I did not call,” said Ralph dully. “I do not know what you mean, +Mistress Atherton.” + +She made a little impatient gesture. + +“Ah! yes,” she said, “it is something. Tell me quickly. I suppose it has +to do with my Lord. What is it?” + +“It is nothing,” said Ralph again. + +They stood looking at one another in silence. Beatrice’s eyes ran a +moment up and down his rich dress, the papers in his hands, then +wandered to the heaped floor, the table, and returned to the papers in +his hands. + +“You must tell me,” she said. “What is that you are holding?” + +An angry terror seized Ralph. + +“That is my affair, Mistress Atherton. What is your business with me?” + +She came a step nearer, and leant her left hand on his table. He could +see those steady eyes on his face; she looked terribly strong and +controlled. + +“Indeed you must tell me, Mr. Torridon. I am come here to do something. +I do not know what. What are those papers?” + +He turned and dropped them on to the chair behind him. + +“I tell you again, I do not know what you mean.” + +“It is useless,” she said. “Have they been to you yet? What do you mean +to do about my Lord? You know he is in the Tower?” + +“I suppose so,” said Ralph, “but my counsel is my own.” + +“Mr. Torridon, let us have an end of this. I know well that you must +have many secrets against my lord--” + +“I tell you that what I know is nothing. I have not a hundredth part of +his papers.” + +He felt himself desperate and bewildered, like a man being pushed to the +edge of a precipice, step by step. But those black eyes held and +compelled him on. He scarcely knew what he was saying. + +“And are these papers all his? What have you been doing with them?” + +“My Lord told me to sort them.” + +The words were drawn out against his own will. + +“And those in your hand--on the chair. What are they?” + +Ralph made one more violent effort to regain the mastery. + +“If you were not a woman, Mistress Atherton, I should tell you you were +insolent.” + +Not a ripple troubled those strong eyes. + +“Tell me, Mr. Torridon, what are they?” + +He stood silent and furious. + +“I will tell you what they are,” she said; “they are my Lord’s secrets. +Is it not so? And you were about to burn them. Oh! Ralph, is it not so?” + +Her voice had a tone of entreaty in it. He dropped his eyes, overcome by +the passion that streamed from her. + +“Is it not so?” she cried again. + +“Do you wish me to do so?” he said amazed. His voice seemed not his own; +it was as if another spoke for him. He had the same sensation of +powerlessness as once before when she had lashed him with her tongue in +the room downstairs. + +“Wish you?” she cried. “Why, yes; what else?” + +He lifted his eyes to hers; the room seemed to have grown darker yet in +those few minutes. He could only see now a shadowed face looking at him; +but her bright passionate eyes shone out from it and dominated him. + +Again he spoke, in spite of himself. + +“I shall not burn them,” he said. + +“Shall not? shall not?” + +“I shall not,” he said again. + +There was silence. Ralph’s soul was struggling desperately within him. +He put out his hand mechanically and took up the papers once more, as if +to guard them from this fierce, imperious woman. Beatrice’s eyes +followed the movement; and then rested once more on his face. Then she +spoke again, with a tense deliberateness that drove every word home, +piercing and sharp to the very centre of his spirit. + +“Listen,” she said, “for this is what I came to say. I know what you are +thinking--I know every thought as if it were my own. You tell yourself +that it is useless to burn those secrets; that there are ten thousand +more--enough to cast my lord. I make no answer to that. + +“You tell yourself that you can only save yourself by giving them up to +his enemies. I make no answer to that. + +“You tell yourself that it will be known if you destroy them--that you +will be counted as one of His Highness’s enemies. I make no answer to +that. And I tell you to burn them.” + +She came a step nearer. There was not a yard between them now; and the +fire of her words caught and scorched him with their bitterness. + +“You have been false to every high and noble thing. You have been false +to your own conscience--to your father--your brother--your sister--your +Church--your King and your God. You have been false to love and honour. +You have been false to yourself. And now Almighty God of His courtesy +gives you one more opportunity--an opportunity to be true to your +master. I say nothing of him. God is his judge. You know what that +verdict will be. And yet I bid you be true to him. He has a thousand +claims on you. You have served him, though it be but Satan’s service; +yet it is the highest that you know--God help you! He is called +friendless now. Shall that be wholly true of him? You will be called a +traitor presently--shall that be wholly true of you? Or shall there be +one tiny point in which you are not false and treacherous as you have +been in all other points?” + +She stopped again, looking him fiercely in the eyes. + + * * * * * + +From the street outside there came the sound of footsteps; the ring of +steel on stone. Ralph heard it, and his eyes rolled round to the window; +but he did not move. + +Beatrice was almost touching him now. He felt the fragrance that hung +about her envelop him for a moment. Then he felt a touch on the papers; +and his fingers closed more tightly. + +The steps outside grew louder and ceased; and the house suddenly +reverberated with a thunder of knocking. + +Beatrice sprang back. + +“Nay, you shall give me them,” she said; and stood waiting with +outstretched hand. + +Ralph lifted the papers slowly, stared at them, and at her. + +Then he held them out. + + * * * * * + +In a moment she had snatched them; and was on her knees by the hearth. +Ralph watched her, and listened to the steps coming up the stairs. The +papers were alight now. The girl dashed her fingers among them, +grinding, tearing, separating the heavy pages. + +They were almost gone by now; the thick smoke poured up the chimney; and +still Beatrice tore and dashed the ashes about. + +There was a knocking at the door; and the handle turned. The girl rose +from her knees and smiled at Ralph as the door opened, and the +pursuivants stood there in the opening. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +TO CHARING + + +Chris had something very like remorse after Ralph had left Overfield, +and no words of explanation or regret had been spoken on either side. He +recognised that he had not been blameless at the beginning of their +estrangement--if, indeed, there ever had been a beginning--for their +inflamed relations had existed to some extent back into boyhood as far +as he could remember; but he had been responsible for at least a share +in the fierce words in Ralph’s house after the death of the Carthusians. +He had been hot-headed, insolent, theatrical; and he had not written to +acknowledge it. He had missed another opportunity at Lewes--at least +one--when pride had held him back from speaking, for fear that he should +be thought to be currying favour. And now this last opportunity, the +best of all--when Ralph had been accessible and courteous, affected, +Chris imagined, by the death of his mother--this too had been missed; +and he had allowed his brother to ride away without a word of regret or +more than formal affection. + +He was troubled at mass, an hour after Ralph had gone; the distraction +came between him and the sweet solemnity upon which he was engaged. His +soul was dry and moody. He showed it in his voice. As a younger brother +in past years; as a monk and a priest now, he knew that the duty of the +first step to a reconciliation had lain with him; and that he had not +taken it. + +It had been a troubled household altogether when Ralph had gone. There +was first the shock of Lady Torridon’s death, and the hundred regrets +that it had left behind. Then Beatrice too, who had helped them all so +much, had told them that she must go back to town--her aunt was alone in +the little house at Charing, for the friend who had spent Christmas +there was gone back to the country; and Margaret, consequently, had been +almost in despair. Lastly Sir James himself had been troubled; wondering +whether he might not have been warmer with Ralph, more outspoken in his +gratitude for the affair of the mummers, more ready to welcome an +explanation from his son. The shadow of Ralph then rested on the +household, and there was something of pathos in it. He was so much +detached now, so lonely, and it seemed that he was content it should be +so. + + * * * * * + +There were pressing matters too to be arranged; and, weightiest of all, +those relating to Margaret’s future. She would now be the only woman +besides the servants, in the house; and it was growing less and less +likely that she would be ever able to take up the Religious Life again +in England. There seemed little reason for her remaining in the country, +unless indeed she threw aside the Religious habit altogether, and went +to live at Great Keynes as Mary preferred. Beatrice made an offer to +receive her in London for a while, but in this case again she would have +to wear secular dress. + +The evening before Beatrice left, the two sat and talked for a couple of +hours. Margaret was miserable; she cried a little, clung to Beatrice, +and then was ashamed of herself. + +“My dear child,” said the other. “It is in your hands. You can do as you +please.” + +“But I cannot,” sobbed the nun. “I cannot; I do not know. Let me come +with you, Beatrice.” + +Beatrice then settled down and talked to her. She told her of her duty +to her father for the present; she must remember that he was lonely now. +In any case she must not think of leaving home for another six months. +In the meantime she had to consider two points. First, did she consider +herself in conscience bound to Religion? What did the priest tell her? +If she did so consider herself, then there was no question; she must go +to Bruges and join the others. Secondly, if not, did she think herself +justified in leaving her father in the summer? If so, she might either +go to Great Keynes, or come up for at least a long visit to Charing. + +“And what do you think?” asked the girl piteously. + +“Do you wish me to tell you!” said Beatrice. + +Margaret nodded. + +“Then I think you should go to Bruges in July or August.” + +Margaret stared at her; the tears were very near her eyes again. + +“My darling; I should love to have you in London,” went on the other +caressing her. “Of course I should. But I cannot see that King Henry +and his notions make any difference to your vows. They surely stand. Is +it not so, my dear?” + +And so after a little more talk Margaret consented. Her mind had told +her that all along; it was her heart only that protested against this +final separation from her friend. + +Chris too agreed when she spoke to him a day or two later when Beatrice +had gone back. He said he had been considering his own case too; and +that unless something very marked intervened he proposed to follow Dom +Anthony abroad. They could travel together, he said. Finally, when the +matter was laid before their father he also consented. + +“I shall do very well,” he said. “Mary spoke to me of it; and Nicholas +has asked me to make my home at Great Keynes; so if you go, my son, with +Meg in the summer, I shall finish matters here, lease out the estate, +and Mr. Carleton and I shall betake ourselves there. Unless”--he +said--“unless Ralph should come to another mind.” + + * * * * * + +As the spring and early summer drew on, the news, as has been seen, was +not reassuring. + +In spite of the Six Articles of the previous year by which all vows of +chastity were declared binding before God, there was no hint of making +it possible for the thousands of Religious in England still compelled by +them to return to the Life in which such vows were tolerable. The +Religious were indeed dispensed from obedience and poverty by the civil +authority; it was possible for them to buy, inherit, and occupy +property; but a recognition of their corporate life was as far as ever +away. It was becoming plainer every day that those who wished to pursue +their vocation must do so in voluntary exile; and letters were already +being exchanged between the brother and sister at home and the +representatives of their respective communities on the Continent. + +Then suddenly on the eleventh of June there arrived the news of +Cromwell’s fall and of all that it involved to Ralph. + +They were at dinner when it came. + +There was a door suddenly thrust open at the lower end of the hall; and +a courier, white with dust and stiff with riding, limped up the matting +and delivered Beatrice’s letter. It was very short. + +“Come,” she had written. “My Lord of Essex is arrested. He is in the +Tower. Mr. Ralph, too, is there for refusing to inform against him. He +has behaved gallantly.” + +There followed a line from Mistress Jane Atherton, her aunt, offering +rooms in her own house. + + * * * * * + +A wild confusion fell upon the household. Men ran to and fro, women +whispered and sobbed in corners under shadow of the King’s displeasure +that lay on the house, the road between the terrace and the stable +buzzed with messengers, ordering and counter-ordering, for it was not +certain at first that Margaret would not go. A mounted groom dashed up +for instructions and was met by Sir James in his riding-cloak on the +terrace who bade him ride to Great Keynes with the news, and entreat Sir +Nicholas Maxwell to come up to London and his wife to Overfield; there +was not time to write. Sir James’s own room was in confusion; his +clothes lay tumbled on the ground and a distraught servant tossed them +this way and that; Chris was changing his habit upstairs, for it would +mean disaster to go to town as a monk. Margaret was on her knees in +chapel, silent and self-controlled, but staring piteously at the +compassionate figure of the great Mother who looked down on her with Her +Son in Her arms. The huge dog under the chapel-cloister lifted his head +and bayed in answer, as frantic figures fled across the court before +him. And over all lay the hot June sky, and round about the deep +peaceful woods. + +A start was made at three o’clock. + +Sir James was already in his saddle, as Chris ran out; an unfamiliar +figure in his plain priest’s cloak and cap and great riding boots +beneath. A couple of grooms waited behind, and another held the monk’s +horse. Margaret was on the steps, white and steadied by prayer; and the +chaplain stood behind with a strong look in his eyes as they met those +of his patron. + +“Take care of her, father; take care of her. Her sister will be here +to-night, please God. Oh! God bless you, my dear! Pray for us all. Jesu +keep us all! Chris, are you mounted?” + +Then they were off; and the white dust rose in clouds about them. + + * * * * * + +It was between eight and nine as they rode up the north bank of the +river from London Bridge to Charing. + +It had been a terrible ride, with but few words between the two, and +long silences that were the worst of all; as, blotting out the rich +country and the deep woods and the meadows and heathery hills on either +side of the road through Surrey, visions moved and burned before them, +such as the King’s vengeance had made possible to the imagination. From +far away across the Southwark fields Chris had seen the huddled +buildings of the City, the princely spire that marked them, and had +heard the sweet jangling of the thousand bells that told the Angelus; +but he had thought of little but of that high gateway under which they +must soon pass, where the pikes against the sky made palpable the +horrors of his thought. He had given one swift glance up as he went +beneath; and then his heart sickened as they went on, past the houses +and St. Thomas’s chapel with gleams of the river seen beneath. Then as +he looked his breath came sharp; far down there eastwards, seen for a +moment, rose up the sombre towers where Ralph lay, and the saints had +suffered. + +The old Religious Houses, stretching in a splendid line upwards, from +the Augustinian priory near the river-bank, along the stream that flowed +down from Ludgate, caught the last rays of sunlight high against the +rich sky as the riders went along towards Charing between the +sedge-brinked tide and the slope of grass on their right; and the monk’s +sorrowful heart was overlaid again with sorrow as he looked at them, +empty now and desolate where once the praises of God had sounded day and +night. + +They stopped beneath the swinging sign of an inn, with Westminster +towers blue and magical before them, to ask for Mistress Atherton’s +house, and were directed a little further along and nearer to the +water’s edge. + +It was a little old house when they came to it, built on a tiny private +embankment that jutted out over the flats of the river-bank; of plaster +and timber with overhanging storeys and windows beneath the roof. It +stood by itself, east of the village, and almost before the jangle of +the bell had died away, Beatrice herself was at the door, in her +house-dress, bare-headed; with a face at once radiant and constrained. + +She took them upstairs immediately, after directing the men to take the +horses, when they had unloaded the luggage, back to the inn where they +had enquired the way: for there was no stable, she said, attached to the +house. + +Chris came behind his father as if in a dream through the dark little +hall and up the two flights on to the first landing. Beatrice stopped at +a door. + +“You can say what you will,” she said, “before my aunt. She is of our +mind in these matters.” + +Then they were in the room; a couple of candles burned on a table before +the curtained window; and an old lady with a wrinkled kindly face +hobbled over from her chair and greeted the two travellers. + +“I welcome you, gentlemen,” she said, “if a sore heart may say so to +sore hearts.” + +There was no news of Nicholas, they were told; he had not been heard of. + + * * * * * + +They heard the story so far as Beatrice knew it; but it was softened for +their ears. She had found Ralph, she said, hesitating what to do. He had +been plainly bewildered by the sudden news; they had talked a while; and +then he had handed her the papers to burn. The magistrate sent by the +Council had arrived to find the ashes still smoking. He had questioned +Ralph sharply, for he had come with authority behind him; and Ralph had +refused to speak beyond telling him that the bundles lying on the floor +were all the papers of my Lord Essex that were in his possession. They +had laid hands on these, and then searched the room. A quantity of +ashes, Beatrice said, had fallen from behind a portrait over the hearth +when they had shifted it. Then the magistrate had questioned her too, +enquired where she lived, and let her go. She had waited at the corner +of the street, and watched the men come out. Ralph walked in the centre +as a prisoner. She had followed them to the river; had mixed with the +crowd that gathered there; and had heard the order given to the +wherryman to pull to the Tower. That was all that she knew. + +“Thank God for your son, sir. He bore himself gallantly.” + +There was a silence as she ended. The old man looked at her wondering +and dazed. It was so sad, that the news scarcely yet conveyed its +message. + +“And my Lord Essex?” he said. + +“My Lord is in the Tower too. He was arrested at the Council by the Duke +of Norfolk.” + +The old lady intervened then, and insisted on their going down to +supper. It would be ready by now, she said, in the parlour downstairs. + +They supped, themselves silent, with Beatrice leaning her arms on the +table, and talking to them in a low voice, telling them all that was +said. She did not attempt to prophesy smoothly. The feeling against +Cromwell, she said, passed all belief. The streets had been filled with +a roaring crowd last night. She had heard them bellowing till long after +dark. The bells were pealed in the City churches hour after hour, in +triumph over the minister’s fall. + +“The dogs!” she said fiercely. “I never thought to say it, but my heart +goes out to him.” + +Her spirit was infectious. Chris felt a kind of half-joyful recklessness +tingle in his veins, as he listened to her talk, and watched her black +eyes hot with indignation and firm with purpose. What if Ralph were +cast? At least it was for faithfulness--of a kind. Even the father’s +face grew steadier; that piteous trembling of the lower lip ceased, and +the horror left his eyes. It was hard to remain in panic with that girl +beside them. + +They had scarcely done supper when the bell of the outer door rang +again, and a moment later Nicholas was with them, flushed with hard +riding. He strode into the room, blinking at the lights, and tossed his +riding whip on to the table. + +“I have been to the Lieutenant of the Tower,” he said; “I know him of +old. He promises nothing. He tells me that Ralph is well-lodged. Mary is +gone to Overfield. God damn the King!” + +He had no more news to give. He had sent off his wife at once on +receiving the tidings, and had started half an hour later for London. He +had been ahead of them all the way, it seemed; but had spent a couple of +hours first in trying to get admittance to the Tower, and then in +interviewing the Lieutenant; but there was no satisfaction to be gained +there. The utmost he had wrung from him was a promise that he would see +him again, and hear what he had to say. + +Then Nicholas had to sup and hear the whole story from the beginning; +and Chris left his father to tell it, and went up with Beatrice to +arrange about rooms. + +Matters were soon settled with the old lady; Nicholas and Chris were to +sleep in one room, and Sir James in another. Two servants only could +be accommodated in the house; the rest were to put up at the inn. +Beatrice went off to give the necessary orders. + +Mistress Jane Atherton and Chris had a few moments together before the +others came up. + +“A sore heart,” said the old lady again, “but a glad one too. Beatrice +has told me everything.” + +“I am thankful too,” said Chris softly. “I wonder if my father +understands.” + +“He will, father, he will. But even if he does not--well, God knows +all.” + +It was evident when Sir James came upstairs presently that he did not +understand anything yet, except that Beatrice thought that Ralph had +behaved well. + +“But it is to my Lord Essex--who has been the worker of all the +mischief--that my son is faithful. Is that a good thing then?” + +“Why, yes,” said Chris. “You would not have him faithless there too?” + +“But would he not be on God’s side at last, if he were against +Cromwell?” + +The old man was still too much bewildered to understand explanations, +and his son was silent. + + * * * * * + +Chris could not sleep that night, and long after Nicholas lay deep in +his pillow, with open mouth and tight eyes, the priest was at the window +looking out over the river where the moon hung like a silver shield +above Southwark. The meadows beyond the stream were dim and colourless; +here and there a roof rose among trees; and straight across the broad +water to his feet ran a path of heaving glory, where the strong ripple +tossed the silver surface that streamed down upon it from the moon. + +London lay round him as quiet as Overfield, and Chris remembered with a +stir at his heart his moonlight bathe all those years ago in the lake at +home, when he had come back hot from hunting and had slipped down with +the chaplain after supper. Then the water had seemed like a cool restful +gulf in the world of sensation; the moon had not been risen at first; +only the stars pricked above and below in air and water. Then the moon +had come up, and a path of splendour had smitten the surface into sight. +He had swum up it, he remembered, the silver ripple washing over his +shoulders as he went. + +And now those years of monastic peace and storm had come and gone, +sifting and penetrating his soul, washing out from it little by little +the heats and passions with which he had plunged. As he looked back on +himself he was astonished at his old complacent smallness. His figure +appeared down that avenue of years, a tiny passionate thing, +gesticulating, feverish, self-conscious. He remembered his serene +certainty that he was right and Ralph wrong in every touch of friction +between them, his own furious and theatrical outburst at the death of +the Carthusians, his absurd dignity on later occasions. Even in those +first beginnings of peace when the inner life had begun to well up and +envelop him he had been narrow and self-centred; he had despised the +common human life, not understanding that God’s Will was as energetic in +the bewildering rush of the current as in the quiet sheltered +back-waters to which he himself had been called. He had been awakened +from that dream by the fall of the Priory, and that to which he opened +his eyes had been forced into his consciousness by the months at home, +when he had had that astringent mingling of the world and the spirit, of +the interpenetration of the inner by the outer. And now for the first +time he stood as a balanced soul between the two, alight with a tranquil +grace within, and not afraid to look at the darkness without. He was +ready now for either life, to go back to the cloister and labour there +for the world at the springs of energy, or to take his place in the new +England and struggle at the tossing surface. + +He stood here now by the hurrying turbulent stream, a wider and more +perilous gulf than that that had lain before him as he looked at the +moonlit lake at Overfield and yet over it brooded the same quiet shield +of heaven, gilding the black swift flowing forces with the promise of a +Presence greater than them all. + +He stood there long, staring and thinking. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A RELIEF-PARTY + + +The days that followed were very anxious and troubled ones for Ralph’s +friends at Charing. They were dreadful too from their very +uneventfulness. + +On the morning following their arrival Chris went off to the Temple to +consult a lawyer that the Lieutenant had recommended to Nicholas, and +brought him back with him an hour later. The first need to be supplied +was their lack of knowledge as to procedure; and the four men sat +together until dinner, in the parlour on the first floor looking over +the sunlit river; and discussed the entire situation. + +The lawyer, Mr. Herries, a shrewd-faced Northerner, sat with his back to +the window, fingering a quill horizontally in his lean brown fingers and +talking in short sentences, glancing up between them, with patient +silences as the others talked. He seemed the very incarnation of the +slow inaction that was so infinitely trying to these anxious souls. + +The three laymen did not even know the crime with which Ralph was +charged, but they soon learnt that the technical phrase for it was +misprision of treason. + +“Mr. Torridon was arrested, I understand,” said the lawyer, “by order of +Council. He would have been arrested in any case. He was known to be +privy to my Lord Essex’s schemes. You inform me that he destroyed +evidence. That will go against him if they can prove it.” + +He drew the quill softly through his lips, and then fell to fingering it +again, as the others stared at him. + +“However,” went on Mr. Herries, “that is not our affair now. There will +be time for that. Our question is, when will he be charged, and how? My +Lord Essex may be tried by a court, or attainted in Parliament. I should +suppose the latter. Mr. Torridon will be treated in the same way. If it +be the former, we can do nothing but wait and prepare our case. If it be +the latter, we must do our utmost to keep his name out of the bill.” + +He went on to explain his reasons for thinking that a bill of attainder +would be brought against Cromwell. It was the customary method, he said, +for dealing with eminent culprits, and its range had been greatly +extended by Cromwell himself. At this moment three Catholics lay in the +Tower, attainted through the statesman’s own efforts, for their supposed +share in a conspiracy to deliver up Calais to the invaders who had +threatened England in the previous year. Feeling, too, ran very high +against Cromwell; the public would be impatient of a long trial; and a +bill of attainder would give a readier outlet to the fury against him. + +This then was the danger; but they could do nothing, said the lawyer, to +avert it, until they could get information. He would charge himself with +that business, and communicate with them as soon as he knew. + +“And then?” asked Chris, looking at him desperately, for the cold +deliberate air of Mr. Herries gave him a terrible sense of the +passionless process of the law. + +“I was about to speak of that,” said the lawyer. “If it goes as I think +it will, and Mr. Torridon’s name is suggested for the bill, we must +approach the most powerful friends we can lay hold on, to use their +influence against his inclusion. Have you any such, sir?” he added, +looking at Sir James sharply over the quill. + +The old man shook his head. + +“I know no one,” he said. + +The lawyer pursed his lips. + +“Then we must do the best we can. We can set aside at once all of my +Lord Essex’s enemies--and--and he has many now. Two names come to my +mind. Master Ralph Sadler--the comptroller; and my Lord of Canterbury.” + +“Ah!” cried Chris, dropping his hand, “my Lord of Canterbury! My brother +has had dealings with him.” + +Sir James straightened himself in his chair. + +“I will ask no favour of that fellow,” he said sternly. + +The lawyer looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. + +“Well, sir,” he said, “if you will not you will not. But I cannot +suggest a better. He is in high favour with his Grace; they say he has +already said a word for my Lord Essex--not much--much would be too much, +I think; but still ’twas something. And what of Master Sadler?” + +“I know nothing of him,” faltered the old man. + +There was silence a moment. + +“Well, sir,” said Mr. Herries, “you can think the matter over. I am for +my Lord of Canterbury; for the reasons I have named to you. But we can +wait a few days. We can do nothing until the method of procedure is +known.” + +Then he went; promising to let them know as soon as he had information. + + * * * * * + +Rumours began to run swiftly through the City. It was said, though +untruly at that time, that Cromwell had addressed a letter to the King +at Henry’s own request, explaining his conduct, utterly denying that he +had said certain rash words attributed to him, and that His Majesty was +greatly affected by it. There was immense excitement everywhere; a crowd +assembled daily outside Westminster Hall; groups at every corner of the +streets discussed the fallen minister’s chances; and shouts were raised +for those who were known to be his enemies, the Duke of Norfolk, Rich, +and others--as they rode through to the Palace. + +Meanwhile Ralph’s friends could do little. Nicholas rode down once or +twice to see the Lieutenant of The Tower, and managed to extract a +promise that Ralph should hear of their presence in London; but he could +not get to see him, or hear any news except that he was in good health +and spirits, and was lodged in a private cell. + +Then suddenly one afternoon a small piece of news arrived from Mr. +Herries to the effect that Cromwell was to be attainted; and anxiety +became intense as to whether Ralph would be included. Sir James could +eat nothing at supper, but sat crumbling his bread, while Beatrice +talked almost feverishly in an attempt to distract him. Finally he rose +and went out, and the others sat on, eyeing one another, anxious and +miserable. + +In desperation Nicholas began to talk of his visit to the Tower, of the +Lieutenant’s timidity, and his own insistence; and they noticed nothing, +till the door was flung open, and the old man stood there, his eyes +bright and his lips trembling with hope. He held a scrap of paper in his +hand. + +“Listen,” he cried as the others sprang to their feet. + +“A fellow has just come from Mr. Herries with this”--he lifted the paper +and read,--“Mr. Torridon’s name is not in the bill. I will be with you +to-morrow.” + +“Thank God!” said Chris. + + * * * * * + +There was another long discussion the following morning. Mr. Herries +arrived about ten o’clock to certify his news; and the four sat till +dinner once again, talking and planning. There was not the same +desperate hurry now; the first danger was passed. + +There was only one thing that the lawyer could do, and that was to +repeat his advice to seek the intercession of the Archbishop. He +observed again that while Cranmer had the friendship of the fallen +minister, he had not in any sense been involved in his fall; he was +still powerful with the King, and of considerable weight with the +Council in consequence. He was likely therefore to be both able and +willing to speak on behalf of Cromwell’s agent. + +“But I would advise nothing to be done until the bill of attainder has +come before Parliament. We do not know yet how far Mr. Torridon’s action +has affected the evidence. From what you say, gentlemen, and from what I +have heard elsewhere, I should think that the papers Mr. Torridon +destroyed are not essential to a conviction. My Lord’s papers at his own +house are sufficient.” + +But they had some difficulty in persuading Sir James to consent to ask a +favour of the Archbishop. In his eyes, Cranmer was beyond the pale of +decency; he had lived with two women, said the old man, whom he called +his wives, although as a priest he was incapable of marriage; he had +violated his consecration oath; he had blessed and annulled the frequent +marriages of the King with equal readiness; he was a heretic confessed +and open on numberless points of the Catholic Faith. + +Mr. Herries pointed out with laborious minuteness that this was beside +the question altogether. He did not propose that Sir James Torridon +should go to the Archbishop as to a spiritual superior, but as to one +who chanced to have great influence;--if he were a murderer it would +make no difference to his advice. + +Chris broke in with troubled eyes. + +“Indeed, sir,” he said to his father, “you know how I am with you in +all that you say; and yet I am with Mr. Herries too. I do not +understand--” + +“God help us,” cried the old man. “I do not know what to do.” + +“Will you talk with Mistress Beatrice?” asked Chris. + +Sir James nodded. + +“I will do that,” he said. + + * * * * * + +The next day the bill was passed; and the party in the house at Charing +sat sick at heart within doors, hearing the crowds roaring down the +street, singing and shouting in triumph. Every cry tore their hearts; +for was it not against Ralph’s master and friend that they rejoiced? As +they sat at supper a great battering broke out at the door that looked +on to the lane; and they sprang up to hear a drunken voice bellowing at +them to come out and shout for liberty. Nicholas went crimson with +anger; and he made a movement towards the hall, his hand on his hilt. + +“Ah! sit down, Nick,” said the monk. “The drunken fool is away again.” + +And they heard the steps reel on towards Westminster. + + * * * * * + +It was not until a fortnight later that they went at last to Lambeth. + +Sir James had been hard to persuade; but Beatrice had succeeded at last. +Nicholas had professed himself ready to ask a favour of the devil +himself under the circumstances; and Chris himself continued to support +the lawyer’s opinion. He repeated his arguments again and again. + +Then it was necessary to make an appointment with the Archbishop; and a +day was fixed at last. My Lord would see them, wrote a secretary, at +two o’clock on the afternoon of July the third. + +Beatrice sat through that long hot afternoon in the window-seat of the +upstairs parlour, looking out over the wide river below, conscious +perhaps for the first time of the vast weight of responsibility that +rested on her. + +She had seen them go off in a wherry, the father and son with Nicholas +in the stern, and the lawyer facing them on the cross-bench; they had +been terribly silent as they walked down to the stairs; had stood +waiting there without a word being spoken but by herself, as the wherry +made ready; and she had talked hopelessly, desperately, to relieve the +tension. Then they had gone off. Sir James had looked back at her over +his shoulder as the boat put out; and she had seen his lips move. She +had watched them grow smaller and smaller as they went, and then when a +barge had come between her and them, she had gone home alone to wait for +their return, and the tidings that they would bring. + +And she, in a sense was responsible for it all. If it had not been for +her visit to Ralph, he would have handed the papers over to the +authorities; he would be at liberty now, no doubt, as were Cromwell’s +other agents; and, as she thought of it, her tortured heart asked again +and again whether after all she had done right. + +She went over the whole question, as she sat there, looking out over the +river towards Lambeth, fingering the shutter, glancing now and again at +the bent old figure of her aunt in her tall chair, and listening to the +rip of the needle through the silk. Could she have done otherwise? Was +her interference and advice after all but a piece of mad chivalry, +unnecessary and unpractical? + +And yet she knew that she would do it again, if the same circumstances +arose. It would be impossible to do otherwise. Reason was against it; +Mr. Herries had hinted as much with a quick lifting of his bushy +eyebrows as she had told him the story. It would have made no difference +to Cromwell--ah! but she had not done it for that; it was for the sake +of Ralph himself; that he might not lose the one opportunity that came +to him of making a movement back towards the honour he had forfeited. + +But it was no less torture to think of it all, as she sat here. She had +faced the question before; but now the misery she had watched during +these last three weeks had driven it home. Day by day she had seen the +old father’s face grow lined and haggard as the suspense gnawed at his +heart; she had watched him at meals--had seen him sit in bewildered +grief, striving for self-control and hope--had seen him, as the light +faded in the parlour upstairs, sink deeper into himself; his eyes hidden +by his hand, and his grey pointed beard twitching at the trembling of +his mouth. Once or twice she had met his eyes fixed on hers, in a +questioning stare, and had known what was in his heart--a simple, +unreproachful wonder at the strange events that had made her so +intimately responsible for his son’s happiness. + +She thought of Margaret too, as she sat there; of the poor girl who had +so rested on her, believed in her, loved her. There she was now at +Overfield, living in a nightmare of suspense, watching so eagerly for +the scanty letters, disappointed every time of the good news for which +she hoped.... + + * * * * * + +The burden was an intolerable one. Beatrice was scarcely conscious of +where she sat or for what she waited. She was living over again every +detail of her relations with Ralph. She remembered how she had seen him +at first at Chelsea; how he had come out with Master More from the door +of the New Building and across the grass. She had been twisting a +grass-ring then as she listened to the talk, and had tossed it on to the +dog’s back. Then, day by day she had met him; he had come at all hours; +and she had watched him, for she thought she had found a man. She +remembered how her interest had deepened; how suddenly her heart had +leapt that evening when she came into the hall and found him sitting in +the dark. Then, step by step, the friendship had grown till it had +revealed its radiant face at the bitterness of Chris’s words in the +house at Westminster. Then her life had become magical; all the world +cried “Ralph” to her; the trumpets she heard sounded to his praise; the +sunsets had shone for him and her. Then came the news of the Visitors’ +work; and her heart had begun to question her insistently; the questions +had become affirmation; and in one passionate hour she had gone to him, +scourged him with her tongue, and left him. She had seen him again once +or twice in the years that followed; had watched him from a window hung +with tapestries in Cheapside, as he rode down beside the King; and had +not dared to ask herself what her heart so longed to tell her. Then had +come the mother’s question; and the falling of the veils. + +Then he had called her; she never doubted that; as she sat alone in her +room one evening. It had come, thin and piteous;--“Beatrice, Beatrice.” +He needed her, and she had gone, and meddled with his life once more. + +And he lay in the Tower.... + + * * * * * + +“Beatrice, my child.” + +She turned from the window, her eyes blind with tears; and in a moment +was kneeling at her aunt’s side, her face buried in her lap, and felt +those kindly old hands passing over her hair. She heard a murmur over +her head, but scarcely caught a word. There was but one thing she +needed, and that-- + +Then she knelt suddenly upright listening, and the caressing hand was +still. + +“Beatrice, my dear, Beatrice.” + + * * * * * + +There were footsteps on the stairs outside, eager and urgent. The girl +rose to her feet, and stood there, swaying a little with a restrained +expectation. + +Then the door was open, and Chris was there, flushed and radiant, with +the level evening light full on his face. + +“It is all well,” he cried, “my Lord will take us to the King.” + + + + +CHAPTER X + +PLACENTIA + + +The river-front of Greenwich House was a magnificent sight as the four +men came up to it one morning nearly three weeks later. The long +two-storied row of brick buildings which Henry had named Placentia, with +their lines of windows broken by the two clusters of slender towers, and +porticos beneath, were fronted by broad platforms and a strip of turf +with steps leading down to the water, and at each of these entrances +there continually moved brilliant figures, sentries with the sunlight +flashing on their steel caps and pike-points, servants in the royal +livery, watermen in their blue and badges. + +Here and there at the foot of the steps rocked gaudy barges, a mass of +gilding and colour, with broad low canopies at the stern, and flags +drooping at the prow; wherries moved to and fro, like water-beetles, +shooting across from bank to bank with passengers, above and below the +palace, or pausing with uplifted oars as the stream swept them down, for +the visitors to stare and marvel at the great buildings. Behind rose up +the green masses of trees against the sloping park. And over all lay the +July sky, solemn flakes of cloud drifting across a field of intense +blue. + +There had been a delay in the fulfilment of the Archbishop’s promise; at +one time he himself was away in the country on affairs, at another time +the King was too much pressed, Cranmer reported, to have such a matter +brought before him; and then suddenly a messenger had come across from +Lambeth with a letter, bidding them present themselves at Greenwich on +the following morning; for the day following that had been fixed for +Cromwell’s execution, and the Archbishop hoped that the King would be +ready to hear a word on behalf of the agent whose loyalty had failed to +save his master. + + * * * * * + +The boatman suddenly backed water with his left-hand oar, took a stroke +or two with his right, glancing over his shoulder; and the boat slid up +to the foot of the steps. + +A couple of watermen were already waiting there, in the Archbishop’s +livery, and steadied the boat for the four gentlemen to step out; and a +moment later the four were standing on the platform, looking about them. + +They were at one of the smaller entrances to the palace, up-stream. A +hundred yards further down was the royal entrance, canopied and +carpeted, with the King’s barge rocking at the foot, a number of +servants coming and going on the platform, and the great state windows +overlooking all; but here they were in comparative quiet. A small +doorway with its buff and steel-clad sentry before it opened on their +right into the interior of the palace. + +One of the watermen saluted the party. + +“Master Torridon?” he said. + +Chris assented. + +“My Lord bade me take you through to him, sir, as soon as you arrived.” + +He went before them to the door, said a word to the guard, and then the +party passed on through the little entrance-hall into the interior. The +corridor was plainly and severely furnished with matting under-foot, +chairs here and there set along the wainscot, pieces of stuff with +crossed pikes between hanging on the walls; through the bow windows +they caught a glimpse now and again of a little court or two, a +shrubbery and a piece of lawn, and once a vista of the park where Henry +in his younger days used to hold his May-revels, a gallant and princely +figure all in green from cap to shoes, breakfasting beneath the trees. + +Continually, as they went, first in the corridor and then through the +waiting rooms at the end, they passed others going to and fro, servants +hurrying on messages, leisurely and magnificent persons with their hats +on, pages standing outside closed doors; and twice they were asked their +business. + +“For my Lord of Canterbury,” answered the waterman each time. + +It seemed to Chris that they must have gone an immense distance before +the waterman at last stopped, motioning them to go on, and a page in +purple livery stepped forward from a door. + +“For my Lord of Canterbury,” said the waterman for the last time. + +The page bowed, turned, and threw open the door. + +They found themselves in a square parlour, carpeted and hung with +tapestries from floor to ceiling. A second door opened beyond, in the +window side, into another room. A round table stood in the centre, with +brocaded chairs about it, and a long couch by the fireplace. Opposite +rose up the tall windows through which shone the bright river with the +trees and buildings on the north bank beyond. + +They had hardly spoken a word to one another since they had left +Charing, for all that was possible had been said during the weeks of +waiting for the Archbishop’s summons. + +Cranmer had received them kindly, though he had not committed himself +beyond promising to introduce them to the King, and had expressed no +opinion on the case. + +He had listened to them courteously, had nodded quietly as Chris +explained what it was that Ralph had done, and then almost without +comment had given his promise. It seemed as if the Archbishop could not +even form an opinion, and still less express one, until he had heard +what his Highness had to say. + + * * * * * + +Chris walked to the window and the lawyer followed him. + +“Placentia!” said Mr. Herries, “I do not wonder at it. It is even more +pleasing from within.” + +He stood, a prim, black figure, looking out at the glorious view, the +shining waterway studded with spots of colour, the long bank of the +river opposite, and the spires of London city lying in a blue heat-haze +far away to the left. + +Chris stared at it too, but with unseeing eyes. It seemed as if all +power of sensation had left him. The suspense of the last weeks had +corroded the surfaces of his soul, and the intensity to which it was now +rising seemed to have paralysed what was left. He found himself +picturing the little house at Charing where Beatrice was waiting, and, +he knew, praying; and he reminded himself that the next time he saw her +he would know all, whether death or life was to be Ralph’s sentence. The +solemn quiet and the air of rich and comfortable tranquillity which the +palace wore, and which had impressed itself on his mind even in the +hundred yards he had walked in it, gave him an added sense of what it +was that lay over his brother, the huge passionless forces with which he +had become entangled. + +Then he turned round. His father was sitting at the table, his head on +his hand; and Nicholas was staring round the grave room with the +solemnity of a child, looking strangely rustic and out of place in these +surroundings. + +It was very quiet as Chris leaned against the window-shutter, in his +secular habit, with his hands clasped behind his back, and looked. Once +a footstep passed in the corridor outside, and the floor vibrated +slightly to the tread; once a horn blew somewhere far away; and from the +river now and again came the cry of a waterman, or the throb of oars in +rowlocks. + +Sir James looked up once, opened his lips as if to speak; and then +dropped his head on to his hand again. + +The waiting seemed interminable. + +Chris turned round to the window once more, slipped his breviary out of +his pocket, and opened it. He made the sign of the cross and began-- + +“_In nomine Patris et Filii...._” + +Then the second door opened; he turned back abruptly; there was a rustle +of silk, and the Archbishop came through in his habit and gown. + +Chris bowed slightly as the prelate went past him briskly towards the +table where Sir James was now standing up, and searched his features +eagerly for an omen. There was nothing to be read there; his smooth +large-eyed face was smiling quietly as its manner was, and his wide lips +were slightly parted. + +“Good-day, Master Torridon; you are in good time. I am just come from +His Highness, and will take you to him directly.” + +Chris saw his father’s face blanch a little as he bowed in return. +Nicholas merely stared. + +“But we have a few minutes,” went on the Archbishop. “Sir Thomas +Wriothesly is with him. Tell me again sir, what you wish me to say.” + +Sir James looked hesitatingly to the lawyer. + +“Mr. Herries,” he said. + +Cranmer turned round, and again made that little half-deprecating bow to +the priest and the lawyer. Mr. Herries stepped forward as Cranmer sat +down, clasping his hands so that the great amethyst showed on his +slender finger. + +“It is this, my Lord,” he said, “it is as we told your Lordship at +Lambeth. This gentleman desires the King’s clemency towards Mr. Ralph +Torridon, now in the Tower. Mr. Torridon has served--er--Mr. Cromwell +very faithfully. We wish to make no secret of that. He destroyed certain +private papers--though that cannot be proved against him, and you will +remember that we were doubtful whether his Highness should be informed +of that--” + +Sir James broke in suddenly. + +“I have been thinking of that, my Lord. I would sooner that the King’s +Grace knew everything. I have no wish that that should be kept from +him.” + +The Archbishop who had been looking with smiling attention from one to +the other, now himself broke in. + +“I am glad you think that, sir. I think so myself. Though it cannot be +proved as you say, it is far best that His Grace should know all. Indeed +I think I should have told him in any case.” + +“Then, my Lord, if you think well,” went on Mr. Herries, “you might lay +before his Grace that this is a free and open confession. Mr. Torridon +did burn papers, and important ones; but they would not have served +anything. Master Cromwell was cast without them.” + +“But Mr. Torridon did not know that?” questioned the Archbishop blandly. + +“Yes, my Lord,” cried Sir James, “he must have known--that my Lord +Cromwell--” + +The Archbishop lifted his hand delicately. + +“Master Cromwell,” he corrected. + +“Master Cromwell,” went on the old man, “he must have known that Mr. +Cromwell had others, more important, that would be certainly found and +used against him.” + +“Then why did he burn them? You understand, sir, that I only wish to +know what I have to say to his Grace.” + +“He burned them, my Lord, because he could not bear that his hand should +be lifted against his master. Surely that is but loyal and good!” + +The Archbishop nodded quietly three or four times. + +“And you desire that his Grace will take order to have Mr. Torridon +released?” + +“That is it, my Lord,” said the lawyer. + +“Yes, I understand. And can you give any pledge for Mr. Torridon’s good +behaviour?” + +“He has served Mr. Cromwell,” answered the lawyer, “very well for many +years. He has been with him in the matter of the Religious Houses; he +was one of the King’s Visitors, and assisted in the--the destruction of +Lewes priory; and that, my Lord, is a sufficient--” + +Sir James gave a sudden sob. + +“Mr. Herries, Mr. Herries--” + +Cranmer turned to him smiling. + +“I know what you feel, sir,” he said. “But if this is true--” + +“Why, it is true! God help him,” cried the old man. + +“Then that is what we need, sir; as you said just now. Yes, Mr. +Herries?” + +The lawyer glanced at the old man again. + +“That is sufficient guarantee, my Lord, that Mr. Ralph Torridon is no +enemy of his Grace’s projects.” + +“I cannot bear that!” cried Sir James. + +Nicholas, who had been looking awed and open-mouthed from one to the +other, took him by the arm. + +“You must, father,” he said. “It--it is devilish; but it is true. Chris, +have you nothing?” + +The monk came forward a step. + +“It is true, my Lord,” he said. “I was a monk of Lewes myself.” + +“And you have conformed,” put in the Archbishop swiftly. + +“I am living at home peaceably,” said Chris; “it is true that my brother +did all this, but--but my father wishes that it should not be used in +his cause.” + +“If it is true,” said the Archbishop, “it is best to say it. We want +nothing but the bare truth.” + +“But I cannot bear it,” cried the old man again. + +Chris came round behind the Archbishop to his father. + +“Will you leave it, father, to my Lord Archbishop? My Lord understands +what we think.” + +Sir James looked at him, dazed and bewildered. + +“God help us! Do you think so, Chris?” + +“I think so, father. My Lord, you understand all?” + +The Archbishop bowed again slightly. + +“Then, my Lord, we will leave it all in your hands.” + +There was a tap at the door. + +The Archbishop rose. + +“That is our signal,” he said. “Come, gentlemen, his Grace will be ready +immediately.” + +Mr. Herries sprang to the door and opened it, bowing as the Archbishop +went through, followed by Sir James and Nicholas. He and Chris followed +after. + + * * * * * + +There was a kind of dull recklessness in the monk’s heart as he went +through. He knew that he was in more peril than any of the others, and +yet he did not fear it. The faculty of fear had been blunted, not +sharpened, by his experiences; and he passed on towards the King’s +presence, almost without a tremor. + +The room was empty, except for a page by the further door, who opened it +as the party advanced; and beyond was a wide lobby, with doors all +round, and a staircase on the right as they came out. The Archbishop +made a little motion to the others as he went up, gathering his skirts +about him, and acknowledging with his disengaged hand the salute of the +sentry that stood in the lobby. + +At the top of the stairs was a broad landing; then a corridor through +which they passed, and on. They turned to the left, and as they went it +was apparent that they were near the royal apartments. There were thick +leather rugs lying here and there; along the walls stood magnificent +pieces of furniture, inlaid tables with tall dragon-jars upon them, +suits of Venetian armour elaborately worked in silver, and at the door +of every room that opened on the corridor there was standing a sentry or +a servant, who straightened themselves at the sight of the Archbishop. +He carefully acknowledged each salutation, and nodded kindly once or +twice. + +There was a heavy odour in the air, warm and fragrant, as of mingled +stuffs and musk, which even the wide windows set open towards the garden +on the right hand did not wholly obliterate. + +For the first time since leaving Charing, Chris’s heart quickened. The +slow stages of approach to the formidable presence had begun to do their +work; if he had seen the King at once he would not have been moved; if +he had had an hour longer, he would have recovered from his emotion; but +this swift ordered approach, the suggestiveness of the thick carpets +and furniture, the sight of the silent figures waiting, the musky smell +in the air, all combined now to work upon him; he began to fancy that he +was drawing nearer the presence of some great carrion-beast that had +made its den here, that was guarded by these discreet servitors, and to +which this smooth prelate, in the rôle of the principal keeper, was +guiding him. Any of these before him might mark the sanctuary of the +labyrinth, where the creature lurked; one might open, and a savage face +look out, dripping blood and slaver. + +A page threw back a door at last, and they passed through; but again +there was a check. It was but one more waiting room. The dozen persons, +folks of all sorts, a lawyer, a soldier, and others stood up and bowed +to the prelate. + +Then the party sat down near the further door in dead silence, and the +minutes began to pass. + +There were cries from the river once or twice as they waited; once a +footstep vibrated through the door, and twice a murmur of voices sounded +and died again. + +Then suddenly a hand was laid on the handle from the other side, and the +Archbishop rose, with Sir James beside him. + +There was still a pause. Then a voice sounded loud and near, and there +was a general movement in the room as all rose to their feet. The door +swung open and the Garter King-at-Arms came through, bland and smiling, +his puffed silk sleeves brushing against the doorpost as he passed. A +face like a mask, smooth and expressionless, followed him, and nodded to +the Archbishop. + +Cranmer turned slightly to his party, again made that little movement, +and went straight through. + +Chris followed with Mr. Herries. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE KING’S HIGHNESS + + +As Chris knelt with the others, and the door closed behind him, he was +aware of a great room with a tall window looking on to the river on his +left, tapestry-hung walls, a broad table heaped with papers in the +centre, a high beamed ceiling, and the thick carpet under his knees. + +For a moment he did not see the King. The page who had beckoned them in +had passed across the room, and Chris’s eyes followed him out through an +inner door in the corner. + +Then, still on his knees, he turned his eyes to see the Archbishop going +towards the window, and up the step that led on to the dais that +occupied the floor of the oriel. + +Then he saw the King. + + * * * * * + +A great figure was seated opposite the side door at which they had +entered on the broad seat that ran round the three sides of the window. +The puffed sleeves made the shoulders look enormous; a gold chain lay +across them, with which the gross fingers were playing. Beneath, the +vast stomach swelled out into the slashed trunks, and the scarlet legs +were crossed one over the other. On the head lay a broad plumed velvet +cap, and beneath it was the wide square face, at once jovial and solemn, +with the narrow slits of eyes above, and the little pursed mouth fringed +by reddish hair below, that Chris remembered in the barge years before. +The smell of musk lay heavy in the air. + +Here was the monstrous carrion-beast then at last, sunning himself and +waiting. + + * * * * * + +So the party rested a moment or two, while the Archbishop went across to +the dais; he knelt again and then stood up and said a word or two +rapidly that Chris could not hear. + +Henry nodded, and turned his bright narrow eyes on to them; and then +made a motion with his hand. The Archbishop turned round and repeated +the gesture; and Chris rose in his place as did the others. + +“Master Torridon, your Grace,” explained the Archbishop, with a +deferential stoop of his shoulders. “Your Grace will remember--” + +The King nodded abruptly, and thrust his hand out. + +Chris touched his father behind. + +“Go forward,” he whispered; “kiss hands.” + +The old man went forward a hesitating step or two. The Archbishop +motioned sharply, and Sir James advanced again up to the dais, sank +down, and lifted the hand to his lips, and fell back for the others. + +When Chris’s turn came, and he lifted the heavy fingers, he noticed for +a moment a wonderful red stone on the thumb, and recognised it. It was +the Regal of France that he had seen years before at his visit to St. +Thomas’s shrine at Canterbury. In a flash, too, he remembered Cromwell’s +crest as he had seen it on the papers at Lewes--the demi-lion holding up +the red-gemmed ring. + +Then he too had fallen back, and the Archbishop was speaking. + +“Your Grace will remember that there is a Mr. Ralph Torridon in the +Tower--an agent of Mr. Cromwell’s--” + +The King’s face moved slightly, but he said nothing. + +--“Who is awaiting trial for destroying evidence. It is that, at least, +your Grace, that is asserted against him. But it has not been proved. +Master Torridon here tells me, your Highness, that it cannot be proved, +but that he wishes to acknowledge it freely on his son’s behalf.” + +Henry’s eyes shot back again at the old man, ran over the others, and +settled again on Cranmer’s face, who was standing beside him with his +back to the window. + +“He is here to plead for your Grace’s clemency. He wishes to lay before +your Grace that his son erred through over-faithfulness to Mr. +Cromwell’s cause; and above all that the evidence so destroyed has not +affected the course of justice--” + +“God’s Body!” jarred in the harsh voice suddenly, “it has not. Nor shall +it.” + +Cranmer waited a moment with downcast eyes; but the King was silent +again. + +“Master Torridon has persuaded me to come with him to your Grace to +speak for him. He is not accustomed--” + +“And who are these fellows?” + +Chris felt those keen eyes running over him. + +“This is Master Nicholas Maxwell,” explained the Archbishop, indicating +him. “Master Torridon’s son-in-law; and this, Mr. Herries--” + +“And the priest?” asked the King. + +“The priest is Sir Christopher Torridon, living with his father at +Overfield.” + +“Ha! has he always lived there then?” + +“No, your Grace,” said Cranmer smoothly, “he was a monk at Lewes until +the dissolution of the house.” + +“I have heard somewhat of his name,” mused Henry. “What is it, sir, that +I have heard of you?” + +“It was perhaps Mr. Ralph Torridon’s name that your Grace--” began +Cranmer. + +“Nay, nay, it was not. What was it, sir?” + +Chris’s heart was beating in his ears like a drum now. It had come, +then, that peril that had always been brooding on the horizon, and which +he had begun to despise. He had thought that there could be no danger in +his going to the King; it was so long since Lewes had fallen, and his +own part had been so small. But his Grace’s memory was good, it seemed! +Danger was close to him, incarnate in that overwhelming presence. He +said nothing, but stood awaiting detection. + +“It is strange,” said Henry. “I have forgot. Well, my Lord?” + +“I have told your Grace all,” explained the Archbishop. “Mr. Ralph +Torridon has not yet been brought to trial, and his father hopes that +your Grace will take into consideration these two things: that it was a +mistake of over-faithfulness that his son committed; and that it has not +hindered the course of justice.” + +“Well, well,” said Henry, “and that sounds to be in reason. We have none +too much of either faithfulness or justice in these days. And there is +no other charge against the fellow?” + +“There is no other charge, your Grace.” + +There fell a complete silence for a moment or two. + +Chris glanced up at his father, his own heart uplifted by hope, and saw +the old man’s face trembling with it too. The wrinkled eyes were full of +tears, and his lips quivered; and Chris could feel the short cloak that +hung against him shaking at his hand. Nicholas’s crimson face showed a +mingling of such emotion and solemnity that Chris was seized with an +internal hysterical spasm; but it suddenly died within him as he +brought his eyes round, and saw that the King was staring at him +moodily.... + +The Archbishop’s voice broke in again. + +“Are we to understand, your Grace, that your Grace’s clemency is +extended to Mr. Ralph Torridon?” + +“Eh! then,” said the King peevishly, “hold your tongue, my Lord. I am +trying to remember. Where is Michael?” + +“Shall I call him, your Grace?” + +“Nay, then; let the lawyer ring the bell!” + +Mr. Herries sprang to the table at the King’s gesture, and struck the +little hand-bell that stood there. The door where the page had +disappeared five minutes before opened silently, and the servant stood +there. + +“Michael,” said the King, and the page vanished. + +There was an uncomfortable silence. Cranmer stood back a little with an +air of patient deference, and his quick eyes glanced up now and again at +the party before him. There was a certain uneasiness in his manner, as +Chris could see; but the monk presently dropped his eyes again, as he +saw that the King was once more looking at him keenly, with tight pursed +lips, and a puzzled look on his forehead. + +The thoughts began to race through Chris’s brain. He found himself +praying with desperate speed that Michael, whoever he was, might not +know; and that the King might not remember; and meanwhile through +another part of his being ran the thought of the irony of his situation. +Here he was, come to plead for his brother’s life, and on the brink of +having to plead for his own. The quiet room increased his sense of the +irony. It seemed so safe and strong and comfortable, up here in the rich +room, with the tall window looking on to the sunlit river, in a palace +girt about with guards; and yet the very security of it was his danger. +He had penetrated into the stronghold of the great beast that ruled +England: he was within striking distance of those red-stained claws and +teeth. + +Then suddenly the creature stirred and snarled. + +“I know it now, sir. You were one of the knaves that would not sign the +surrender of Lewes.” + +Chris lifted his eyes and dropped them again. + +“God’s Body,” said the King, “and you come here!” + +Again there was silence. + +Chris saw his father half turn towards him with a piteous face, and +perceived that the lawyer had drawn a little away. + +The King turned abruptly to Cranmer. + +“Did you know this, my Lord?” + +“Before God, I did not!”--but his voice shook as he answered. + +Chris was gripping his courage, and at last spoke. + +“We were told it was a free-will act, your Grace.” + +Henry said nothing to this. His eyes were rolling up and down the monk’s +figure, with tight, thoughtful lips. Cranmer looked desperately at Sir +James. + +“I did not know that, your Grace,” he said again. “I only knew that this +priest’s brother had been very active in your Grace’s business.” + +Henry turned sharply. + +“Eh?” he said. + +Sir James’s hands rose and clasped themselves instinctively. Cranmer +again looked at him almost fiercely. + +“Mr. Ralph Torridon was one of the Visitors,” explained the Archbishop +nervously. + +“And this fellow a monk!” cried the King. + +“They must have met at Lewes, your Grace.” + +“Ah! my Lord,” cried Sir James suddenly. “I entreated you--” + +Henry turned on him suddenly. + +“Tell us the tale, sir. What is all this?” + +Sir James took a faltering step forward, and then suddenly threw out his +hands. + +“Ah! your Grace, it is a bitter tale for a father to tell. It is true, +all of it. My son here was a monk at Lewes. He would not sign the +surrender. I--I approved him for it. I--I was there when my son Ralph +cast him out--” + +“God’s blood!” cried the King with a beaming face. “The one brother cast +the other out!” + +Chris saw the Archbishop’s face suddenly lighten as he watched the King +sideways. + +“But I cannot bear that he should be saved for that!” went on the old +man piteously. “He was a good servant to your Grace, but a bad one to +our Lord--” + +The Archbishop drew a swift breath of horror, and his hands jerked. But +Henry seemed not to hear; his little mouth had opened in a round hole of +amazed laughter, and he was staring at the old man without hearing him. + +“And you were there?” he said. “And your wife? And your aunts and +sisters?” + +“My wife is dead,” cried the old man. “Your Grace--” + +“And on which side was she?” + +“She was--was on your Grace’s side.” + +Henry threw himself back in his chair. + + * * * * * + +For one moment Chris did not know whether it was wrath or laughter that +shook him. His face grew crimson, and his narrow eyes disappeared into +shining slits; his fat hands were on his knees, and his great body +shook. From his round open mouth came silent gusts of quick breath, and +he began to sway a little from side to side. + +Across the Archbishop’s face came a deferential and sympathetic smile, +and he looked quickly and nervously from the King to the group and back +again. Sir James had fallen back a pace at the King’s laughter, and +stood rigid and staring. Chris took a step close to him and gripped his +hand firmly. + +There was a footstep behind, and the King leaned forward again, wiping +the tears away with his sleeve. + +“Oh, Michael, Michael!” he sobbed, “here is a fine tale.” + +A dark-dressed man stepped forward from behind, and stood expectant. + +“God! What a happy family!” said the King. “And this fellow here?” + +He motioned towards Nicholas, with a feeble gesture. He was still weak +with laughter. + +The young squire moved forward a step, rigid and indignant. + +“I am against your Grace,” he said sharply. + +Henry grew suddenly grave. + +“Eh! that is no way to speak,” he said. + +“It is the only way I can speak,” said Nicholas, “if your Grace desires +the truth.” + +The King looked at him a moment; but the humour still shone in his eyes. + +“Well, well. It is the truth I want. Michael, I sent for you to know +about the priest here; but I know now. And is it true that his brother +in the Tower--Ralph Torridon--was one of the Visitors?” + +The man pursed his lips a moment. He was standing close to Chris, a +little in front of him. + +“Yes, your Majesty.” + +“Oh! well. We must let him out, I suppose--if there is nothing more +against him. You shall tell me presently, Michael.” + +The Archbishop looked swiftly across at the party. + +“Then your Grace extends--” + +“Well, Michael, what is it?” interrupted the King. + +“It is a matter your Majesty might wish to hear in private,” said the +stranger. + +“Oh, step aside, my Lord. And you, gentlemen.” + +The King motioned down to the further end of the room, as Michael came +forward. + +The Archbishop stepped off the low platform, and led the way down the +floor; and the others followed. + + * * * * * + +Chris was in a whirl of bewilderment. He could see the King’s great face +interested and attentive as the secretary said something in his ear, and +then suddenly light up with amusement again. + +“Not a word, not a word,” whispered Henry harshly. “Very good, Michael.” + +The secretary then whispered once more. Chris could hear the sharp +sibilants, but no word. The King nodded once more, and the man stepped +down off the dais. + +“Prepare the admission, then,” said the King after him. + +The secretary bowed as he turned and went out of the room once more. + +Henry beckoned. + +“Come, gentlemen.” + +He watched them with a solemn joviality as they came up, the Archbishop +in front, the father and son together, and the two others behind. + +“You are a sad crew,” began the King, eyeing them pleasantly, and +sitting forward with a hand on either knee, “and I am astonished, my +Lord of Canterbury, at your companying with them. But we will have +mercy, and remember your son’s services, Master Torridon, in the past. +That alone will excuse him. Remember that. That alone. He is the +stronger man, if he turned out the priest there. And I remember your son +very well, too; and will forgive him. But I shall not employ him again. +And his forgiveness shall cover yours, Master Priest; but you must be +off--you must be off, sir,” he barked suddenly, “out of these realms in +a week. We will have no more treason from you.” + +The fierce overpowering personality flared out as he spoke, and Chris +felt his heart beat sick at the force of it. + +“And you two gentlemen,” went on the King, still smouldering, “you two +had best hold your tongues. We will not hear such talk in our presence +or out of it. But we will excuse it now. There, sir, have I said +enough?” + +Sir James dropped abruptly on his knees. + +“Oh! God bless your Grace!” he began, with the tears running down. + +Henry made an abrupt gesture. + +“You shall go to your son,” he said, “and see how he fares, and tell him +this. And she shall have the order of release presently, from me or +another.” + +Again the little mouth creased and twitched with amusement. + +“And I hope he will be happy with his mother. You may tell him that from +me.” + +The Archbishop looked up. + +“Mistress Torridon is dead, your Grace,” he said softly and +questioningly. + +“Oh, well,” said the King; and thrust out his hand to be kissed. + + * * * * * + +Chris did not know how they got out of the room. They kissed hands +again; the old man muttered out his thanks; but he seemed bewildered by +the rush of events, and the supreme surprise. Chris, as he backed away +from the presence, saw for the last time those narrow royal eyes fixed +on him, still bright with amusement and expectancy, and the great +red-fringed cheeks creased about the tiny mouth with an effort to keep +back laughter. Why was the King laughing, he wondered? + +They waited a few minutes in the ante-room for the order that the +Archbishop had whispered to them should be sent out immediately. They +said nothing to one another--but the three sat close, looking into one +another’s eyes now and again in astonishment and joy, while Mr. Herries +stood a little apart solemn and happy at the importance of the rôle he +had played in the whole affair, and disdaining even to look at the rest +of the company who sat on chairs and watched the party. + +The secretary came to them in a few minutes, and handed them the order. + +“My Lord of Canterbury is detained,” he said; “he bade me tell you +gentlemen that he could not see you again.” + +Sir James was standing up and examining the order. + +“For four?” he said. + +“Why, yes,” said the secretary, and glanced at the four men. + +Chris put his hand on his father’s arm. + +“It is all well,” he whispered, “say nothing more. It will do for +Beatrice.” + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE TIDINGS AT THE TOWER + + +They debated as they stood on the steps in the sunlight five minutes +later, as to whether they should go straight to the Tower, or back to +Charing and take Beatrice with them. They spoke softly to one another, +as men that have come out from darkness to light, bewildered by the +sense of freedom and freshness that lay round them. Instead of the +musk-scented rooms, the formidable dominating presence, the suspense and +the terror, the river laughed before them, the fresh summer breeze blew +up it, and above all Ralph was free, and that, not only of his prison, +but of his hateful work. It had all been done in those few sentences; +but as yet they could not realise it; and they regarded it, as they +regarded the ripples at their feet, the lapping wherry, and far-off +London city, as a kind of dazzling picture which would by and by be +found to move and live. + +The lawyer congratulated them, and they smiled back and thanked him. + +“If you will put me to shore at London Bridge,” said Mr. Herries--“I +have a little business I might do there--that is, if you will be going +so far.” + +Chris looked at his father, whose arm he was holding. + +“We must take her with us,” he said. “She has earned it.” + +Sir James nodded, dreamily, and turned to the boat. + +“To the London Bridge Stairs first,” he said. + + * * * * * + +There was a kind of piquant joy in their hearts as they crept up past +the Tower, and saw its mighty walls and guns across the water. He was +there, but it was not for long. They would see him that day, and +to-morrow--to-morrow at the latest, they would all leave it together. + +There were a hundred plans in the old man’s mind, as he leaned gently +forward and back to the motion of the boat and stared at the bright +water. Ralph and he should live at Overfield again; his son would surely +be changed by all that had come to him, and above all by his own +response to the demands of loyalty. They should learn to understand one +another better now--better than ever before. The hateful life lay behind +them of distrust and contempt; Ralph would come back to his old self, +and be again as he had been ten years back before he had been dazzled +and drugged by the man who was to die next day. Then he thought of that +man, and half-pitied him even then; those strong walls held nothing but +terror for him--terror and despair; the scaffold was already going up on +Tower Hill--and as the old man thought of it he leaned forward and tried +to see over the wharf and under the trees where the rising ground lay; +but there was nothing to be seen--the foliage hid it. + +Chris, also silent beside him, was full of thoughts. He would go abroad +now, he knew, with Margaret, as they had intended. The King’s order was +the last sign of God’s intention for him. He would place Margaret with +her own sisters at Bruges, and then himself go on to Dom Anthony and +take up the life again. He knew he would meet some of his old brethren +in Religion--Dom Anthony had written to say that three or four had +already joined him at Cluny; the Prior--he knew--had turned his back for +ever on the monastic life, and had been put into a prebendal stall at +Lincoln. + +And meanwhile he would have the joy of knowing that Ralph was free of +his hateful business; the King would not employ him again; he would live +at home now, and rule Overfield well: he and his father together. Ah! +and what if Beatrice consented to rule it with him! Surely now--He +turned and looked at his father as he thought of it, and their eyes met. + +Chris leaned a little closer. + +“Beatrice!” he said. “What if she--?” + +The old man nodded tenderly, and his drawn eyes shone in his face. + +“Oh! Chris--I was thinking that--” + +Then Nicholas came out of his maze. + +Ever since his entrance into the palace, except when he had flared out +at the King, he had moved and stood and sat in a solemn bewilderment. +The effect of the changed atmosphere had been to paralyse his simple and +sturdy faculties; and his face had grown unintelligent during the +process. More than once Chris had been seized with internal laughter, in +spite of the tragedy; the rustic squire was so strangely incongruous +with the situation. But he awoke now. + +“God bless me!” he said wonderingly. “It is all over and done. God--” + +Chris gave a short yelp of laughter. + +“Dear Nick,” he said, “yes. God bless you indeed! You spoke up well!” + +“Did I do right, sir,” said the other to Sir James, “I could not help +it. I--” + +“Oh! Nick,” said the old man, and leaned forward and put his hand on his +knee. + +Nicholas preened himself as he sat there; he would tell Mary how he had +bearded his Majesty, and what a diplomatist was her husband. + +“You did very well, sir,” put in Mr. Herries ironically. “You terrified +his Grace, I think.” + +Chris glanced at the lawyer; but Nicholas took it all with the greatest +complacency; tilted his hilt a little forward, smoothed his doublet, and +sat smiling and well-pleased. + +They reached the Stairs presently and put Mr. Herries ashore. + +“I will be at your house to-morrow, sir,” he said, “when you go to take +Mr. Ralph out of prison. The order will be there by the morning, I make +no doubt.” + +He bowed and smiled and moved off, a stiff figure deliberately picking +its way up the oozy steps to the crowded street overhead. + + * * * * * + +Beatrice’s face was at the window as they came up the tide half-an-hour +later. Chris stood up in the wherry, when he saw it, and waved his cap +furiously, and the face disappeared. + +She was at the landing stage before they reached it, a slender brilliant +figure in her hood and mantle, with her aunt beside her. Chris stood up +again and cried between his hands across the narrowing space that all +was well; and her face was radiant as the boat slipped up to the side, +and balanced there with the boatman’s hand on the stone edging. + +“It is all well,” said Chris again as he stood by her a moment later. +“He is to go free, and we are to tell him.” + +He dared not look at her; but he was aware that she stood very still and +rigid, and that her eyes were on his father’s. + +“Oh! Mistress Beatrice--” + +Chris began to understand it all a little better, a few minutes later, +as the boat was once again on its way downstream. He and Nicholas had +moved to the bows of the wherry, and the girl and the old man sat alone +in the stern. + +They were all very silent at first; Chris leaned on his elbow and stared +out at the sliding banks, the trees on this side and that, the great +houses with their high roofs and towers behind, and their stone steps in +front, the brilliant glare on the water, the hundreds of boats--great +barges flashing jewels from their dozen blades, spidery wherries making +this way and that; and his mind was busy weaving pictures. He saw it all +now; there had been that in Beatrice’s face during the moment he had +looked at her, that was more than sympathy. In the shock of that great +joy the veils had fallen, and her soul had looked out through her black +tearful eyes. + +There was little doubt now as to what would happen. It was not for their +sake alone, or for Ralph’s, that she had looked like that; she had not +said one word, but he knew what was unspoken. + +As they passed under London Bridge he turned a little and looked across +the boatman’s shoulder at the two as they sat there in the stern, and +what he saw confirmed him. The old man had flung an arm along the back +of the seat, and was leaning a little forward, talking in a low voice, +his face showing indeed the lines and wrinkles that had deepened more +than ever during these last weeks, but irradiated with an extraordinary +joy. And the girl was beside him, smiling with downcast eyes, turning a +quick look now and again as she sat there. Chris could see her scarlet +lips trembling, and her hands clasped on her knee, shifting a little now +and again as she listened. It was a strange wooing; the father courting +for the son, and the woman answering the son through the father; and +Chris understood what was the answer that she was giving. + +Nicholas was watching it too; and presently the two in the stern looked +up suddenly; first Beatrice and then Sir James, and their eyes flashed +joy across and across as the four souls met. + + * * * * * + +Five minutes later again they were at the Tower Stairs. + +Mr. Morris, who had been sent on by Mistress Jane Atherton when she had +heard the news, was there holding his horse by the bridle; and behind +him had collected a little crowd of idlers. He gave the bridle to one of +them, and came down the steps to help them out of the boat. + +“You have heard?” said Chris as he stepped out last. + +“Yes, father,” said the servant. + +Chris looked at him; and his mask-like face too seemed strangely lighted +up. There was still across his cheek the shadow of a mark as of an old +whip-cut. + +As they passed up the steps they became aware that the little crowd that +had waited at the top was only the detached fringe of a multitude that +had assembled further up the slope. It stretched under the trees as far +as they could see to right and left, from the outer wall of the Tower on +the one side, to where the rising ground on the left was hidden under +the thick foliage in the foreground. There was a murmur of talking and +laughter, the ringing of hand-bells, the cracking of whips and the cries +of children. The backs of the crowd were turned to the steps: there was +plainly something going on higher up the slope, and it seemed somewhat +away to the left. + +For a moment Chris did not understand, and he turned to Morris. + +“What is it?” he asked. + +“The scaffold,” said the servant tersely. + +At the same moment high above the murmur of the crowd came the sound of +heavy resounding blows, as of wood on wood. + +Then Chris remembered; and for one moment he sickened as he walked. His +father turned and looked over his shoulder as he went with Beatrice in +front, and his eyes were eloquent. + +“I had forgotten,” said Chris softly. “God help him!” + + * * * * * + +They turned in towards the right almost immediately to the low outer +gate of the fortress; and those for the first time remembered that the +order they carried was for four only. + +Nicholas instantly offered to wait outside and let Morris go in. Morris +flatly refused. There was a short consultation, and then Nicholas went +up to the sentry on guard with the order in his hand. + +The man looked at it, glanced at the party, and then turned and knocked +with his halberd on the great door behind, and in a minute or two an +officer came out in his buff and feathers. He took the order and ran his +eyes over it. + +Nicholas explained. + +The officer looked at him a moment without answering. + +“And the lady too?” he said. + +“Why, yes,” said Nicholas. + +“The lady wishes--” then he broke off. “You will have to see the +Lieutenant,” he went on. “I can let you all through to his lodgings.” + +They passed in with a yeoman to conduct them under the low heavy +vaulting and through to the open way beyond. On their right was the wall +between them and the river, and on their left the enormous towers and +battlements of the inner court. + +Chris walked with Morris behind, remembering the last time he was here +with the Prior all those years before. They had walked silently then, +too, but for another reason. + +They passed the low Traitor’s Gate on their right; Chris glanced at the +green lapping water beneath it as he went--Ralph had landed there--and +turned up the steep slope to the left under the gateway of the inner +court; and in a minute or two more were at the door of the Lieutenant’s +lodgings. + +There seemed a strange suggestiveness in the silence and order of the +wide ward that lay before them. The great White Tower dominated the +whole place on the further side, huge and menacing, pierced by its +narrow windows set at wide intervals; on the left, the row of towers +used as prisons diminished in perspective down to where the wall turned +at right angles and ran in behind the keep; and the great space enclosed +by the whole was almost empty. There were soldiers on guard here and +there at the doorways; a servant hurried across the wide sunlit ground, +and once, as they waited, a doctor in his short gown came out of one +door and disappeared into another. + +And here they waited for an answer to their summons, silent and happy in +their knowledge. The place held no terrors for them. + +The soldier knocked again impatiently, and again stood aside. + +Chris saw Nicholas sidle up to the man with something of the same awe on +his face that had been there an hour ago. + +“My Lord--Master Cromwell?” he heard him whisper, correcting himself. + +The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder. + +“There,” he said. + +There were three soldiers, Chris noticed, standing at the foot of one of +the Towers a little distance off. It was there, then, that Thomas +Cromwell, wool-carder, waited for death, hearing, perhaps, from his +window the murmur of the crowd beyond the moat, and the blows of mallet +on wood as his scaffold went up. + +Then the door opened, and after a word or two the soldier motioned them +in. + + * * * * * + +Again they had to wait. + +The Lieutenant, they were told, had been called away. He was expected +back presently. + +They sat down, still in silence, in the little ground-floor parlour. It +was a pleasant little room, with a wide hearth, and two windows looking +on to the court. + +But the suspense was not like that of the morning. Now they knew how it +must end. There would be a few minutes more, long perhaps to Ralph, as +he sat in his cell somewhere not far from them, knowing nothing of the +pardon that was on its way; and then the door would open, where day by +day for the last six weeks the gaoler had come and gone; and the faces +he knew would be there, and it would be from their lips that he would +hear the message. + +The old man and the girl still sat together in the window-seat, silent +now like the others. They had had their explanations in the boat, and +each knew what was in the other’s heart. Chris and Nicholas stood by the +hearth, Mr. Morris by the door; and there was not the tremor of a doubt +in any of them as to what the future held. + +Chris looked tranquilly round the room, at the little square table in +the centre, the four chairs drawn close to it, with their brocade +panels stained and well-worn showing at the back, the dark ceiling, the +piece of tapestry that hung over the side-table between the doors--it +was a martial scene, faded and discoloured, with ghostly bare-legged +knights on fat prancing horses all in inextricable conflict, a great +battleaxe stood out against the dusky foliage of an autumn tree; and a +stag with his fore feet in the air, ramped in the foreground, looking +over his shoulder. It was a ludicrously bad piece of work, picked up no +doubt by some former Lieutenant who knew more of military than artistic +matters, and had hung there--how long? Chris wondered. + +He found himself criticising it detail by detail, comparing it with his +own designs in the antiphonary; he had that antiphonary still at home; +he had carried it off from Lewes, when Ralph--Ralph!--had turned him +out. He had put it up into a parcel on the afternoon of the spoilers’ +arrival. He would show it to Ralph again now--in a day or two at +Overfield; they would laugh over it together; and he would take it with +him abroad, and perhaps finish it there. God’s work is not so easily +hindered after all. + +But all the while, the wandering stream of his thought was lighted and +penetrated by the radiant joy of his heart. It was all true, not a +dream! + +He glanced again at the two in the window-seat. + +His father was looking out of the lattice; but Beatrice raised her eyes +to his, and smiled at him. + +Sir James stood up. + +“The Lieutenant is coming,” he said. + +A moment later there were steps in the flagged passage; and a murmur of +voices. The soldier who had brought them to the lodgings was waiting +there with the order of admission, and was no doubt explaining the +circumstances. + +Then the door opened suddenly; and a tall soldierly-looking man, +grey-haired and clean-shaven, in an officer’s dress, stood there, with +the order in his hand, as the two in the window-seat rose to meet him. + +“Master Torridon,” he said abruptly. + +Sir James stepped forward. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“You have come to see Mr. Ralph Torridon whom we have here?” + +“Yes, sir--my son.” + +Nicholas stepped forward, and the Lieutenant nodded at him. + +“Yes, sir,” said the officer to him, “I could not admit you before--” he +stopped, as if embarrassed, and turned to Beatrice. + +“And this lady too?” + +“Yes, Master Lieutenant,” said the old man. + +“But--but--I do not understand--” + +He looked at the radiant faces before him, and then dropped his eyes. + +“I suppose--you have not heard then?” + +Chris felt his heart leap, and then begin to throb furiously and +insistently. What had happened? Why did the man look like that? Why did +he not speak? + +The Lieutenant came a step forward and put his hand on the table. He was +looking strangely from face to face. + +Outside the court was very still. The footstep that had passed on the +flagstones a minute before had ceased; and there was no sound but the +chirp of a bird under the eaves. + +“You have not heard then?” said the Lieutenant again. + +“Oh! for God’s sake--” cried the old man suddenly. + +“I have just come from your son,” said the other steadily. “You are only +just in time. He is at the point of death.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE RELEASE + + +It was morning, and they still sat in Ralph’s cell. + + * * * * * + +The attendant had brought in stools and a tall chair with a broken back, +and these were grouped round the low wooden bed; the old man in the +chair on one side, from where he could look down on his son’s face, with +Beatrice beside him, Chris and Nicholas on the other side. Mr. Morris +was everywhere, sitting on a form by the door, in and out with food and +medicine, at his old master’s bedside, lifting his pillow, turning him +in bed, holding his convulsive hands. + +He had been ill six days, the Lieutenant told them. The doctor who had +been called in from outside named the disease _phrenitis_. It was +certain that he would not recover; and a message to that effect had been +sent across on the morning before, with the usual reports to Greenwich. + +They had supped as they sat--silently--on what the gaoler brought; and +had slept by turns in the tall chair, wakening at a sound from the bed; +at the movement of the light across the floor as Morris slipped to and +fro noiselessly; at the chirp of the birds and the noises of the +stirring City as the daylight broadened on the wall, and the narrow +window grew bright and luminous. + +And now the morning was high, and they were waiting for the end. + + * * * * * + +A little table stood by the door, white-covered, with two candles, +guttering now in their sockets, and a tall crucifix, ivory and black, +lifting its arms in the midst. Before it stood two veiled vessels. + +“He will speak before he passes,” the doctor had told them the evening +before; “I do not know whether he will be able to receive Viaticum.” + + * * * * * + +Chris raised himself a little in his chair--he was stiff with leaning +elbows on knees; and he stretched out his feet softly; looking down +still at the bed. + +His brother lay with his back to him; the priest could see the black +hair, longer than Court fashion allowed now, the brown sinewy neck +beneath; and one arm outlined over his hip beneath the piled clothes. +The fingers were moving a little, contracting and loosening, contracting +and loosening; and he could hear the long slow breaths. + +Beyond sat Beatrice, upright and quiet, one hand in her lap, and the +other holding the father’s. The old man was bowed with his head on his +other hand, as he had been for the last hour, his back bent forward with +the burden, and his feet crossed before him. + +From outside the noises grew louder as the morning advanced. There had +been the sound of continual coming and going since it was light. Wheels +had groaned and rattled up out of the distance and ceased abruptly; and +the noise of hoofs had been like an endless patter over the +stone-paving. And now, as the hours passed a murmur had been increasing, +a strange sound like the wind in dry trees, as the huge crowd gathered. + +Beatrice raised her eyes suddenly. + +The fortress itself which had been quiet till now seemed to awaken +abruptly. + +The sound seemed to come to them up the stairs, but they had learnt +during those hours that all sounds from within came that way. There was +a trumpet-note or two, short and brazen; a tramp of feet for a moment, +the throb of drums; then silence again; then the noise of moving +footsteps that came and went in an instant. And as the sound came, Ralph +stirred. + +He swayed slowly over on to his back; his breath came in little groans +that died to silence again as he subsided, and his arm drew out and lay +on the bedclothes. Chris could see his face now in sharp profile against +Beatrice’s dark skirt, white and sharp; the skin was tightly stretched +over the nose and cheekbones, his long thin lips were slightly open, +there was a painful frown on his forehead, and his eyes squinted +terribly at the ceiling. + +A contraction seized the priest’s throat as he watched; the face was at +once so august and so pitiable. + +The lips began to move again, as they had moved during the night; it +seemed as if the dying man were talking and listening. The eyelids +twitched a little; and once he made a movement as if to rise up. Chris +was down on his knees in a moment, holding him tenderly down; he felt +the thin hands come up and fumble with his own, and noticed lines deepen +between the flickering eyelids. Then the hands lay quiet. + +Chris lifted his eyes and saw his father’s face and Beatrice’s watching. +Something of the augustness of the dying man seemed to rest on the grey +bearded lips and solemn eyes that looked down. Beatrice’s face was +steady and tender, and as the priest’s eyes met hers, she nodded. + +“Yes, speak to him,” she said. + +Chris threw a hand across the bed and rested it on the wooden frame, and +then lowered himself softly till his mouth was at the other’s ear. + +“Ralph,” he said, “Ralph, do you hear me?” + +Then he raised his face a little and watched. + +The eyelids were rising slowly; but they dropped again; and there came a +little faint babbling from the writhing lips; but no words were +intelligible. Then they were silent. + +“He hears,” said Beatrice softly. + +The priest bent low again; and as he did so, from outside came a strange +sound, as of a long monstrous groan from a thousand throats. Again the +dying man stirred; his hand sought his brother’s arm and gripped it with +a kind of feeble strength; then dropped again on to the coverlet. + +Chris hesitated a moment, and again glanced up; and as he did so, there +was a sound on the stairs. He threw himself back on his heels and looked +round, as the doctor came in with Morris behind him. + +He was a stout ruddy man, and moved heavily across the floor; but Ralph +seemed not to hear it. + +The doctor came to the end of the bed, and stood staring down at the +dying man’s face, frowning and pursing his lips; Chris watched him +intently for some sign. Then he came round by Beatrice, leaned over the +bed, and took Ralph’s wrist softly into his fingers. He suddenly seemed +to remember himself, and turned his face abruptly over his shoulder to +Sir James. + +“There is a man come from the palace,” he whispered harshly. “I suppose +it is the pardon.” And Chris saw him arch his eyebrows and purse his +lips again. Then he bent over Ralph once more. + +Then again the doctor jerked his head towards the window behind and +spoke across to Chris. + +“They have him out there,” he said; “Master Cromwell, I mean.” + +Then he rose abruptly. + +“He cannot receive Viaticum; and he will not be able to make his +confession. I should shrive him at once, sir, and anoint him.” + +“At once?” whispered Chris. + +“The sooner the better,” said the doctor; “there is no telling.” + +Chris rose swiftly from his knees, and made a sharp sign to Morris. Then +he sank down once more, looking round, and lifted the purple stole from +the floor where he had laid it the evening before; and even as he did so +his soul revolted. + +He looked up at Beatrice. Would not she understand the unchivalry of the +act? But the will in her eyes compelled him.--Yes, yes! Who could set a +limit to mercy? + +He slipped the strip over his shoulders, and again bent down over his +brother, with one arm across the motionless body. Beatrice and Sir James +were on their knees by now. Nicholas was busy with Morris at the further +end of the room. The doctor was gone. + +There was a profound silence now outside as the priest bent lower and +lower till his lips almost touched the ear of the dying man; and every +word of the broken abrupt sentences was audible to all in the room. + +“Ralph--Ralph--dear brother. You are at the point of death. I must +shrive you. You have sinned very deeply against God and man. I shall +anoint you afterwards. Make an act of sorrow in your heart for all your +sins; it will stand for confession. Think of Jesu’s love, and of His +death on the bitter cross--the wounds that He bore for us in love. Give +me a sign if you can that you repent.” + +Chris spoke rapidly, and leaned back a moment. Now he was terrified of +waiting--he did not know how long it would be; but for an intent instant +he stared down on the shadowed face. + +Again the eyelids flickered; the lips formed words, and ceased again. + +The priest glanced up, scarcely knowing why; and then again lowered +himself that if it were possible Ralph might hear. + +Then he spoke, with a tense internal effort as if to drive the grace +home.... + +“_Ego te absolvo ab omnibus censuris et peccatis, in nomine Patris_--” +He raised himself a little and lifted his hand, moving it sideways +across and down as he ended--“_et Filii et Spiritus Sancti_.” + + * * * * * + +The priest rose up once more, his duty driving his emotion down; he did +not dare to look across at the two figures beyond the bed, or even to +question himself again as to what he was doing. + +The two men at the further end of the room were waiting now; they had +lifted the candles and crucifix off the table, and set them on the bench +by the side. + +Chris went swiftly across the room, dropped on one knee, rose again, +lifted the veiled vessel that stood in the centre, with the little linen +cloth beneath, and set it all down on the bench. He knelt again, went a +step aside back to the table, lifted the other vessel, and signed with +his head. + +The two men grasped the ends of the table, and carried it across the +floor to the end of the bed. Chris followed and set down the sacred oils +upon it. + +“The cross and one candle,” he whispered sharply. + +A minute later he was standing by the bed once more. + +“_Oremus_--” he began, reading rapidly off the book that Beatrice held +steadily beneath his eyes. + +“_Almighty Everlasting God, Who through blessed James Thy Apostle, hast +spoken, saying, Is any sick among you, let him call the priests of the +Church_--” (The lips of the dying man were moving again at the sound of +the words; was it in protest or in faith?)--“... _that what is done +without through our ministry, may be wrought within spiritually by Thy +divine power, and invisibly by Thy healing; through our Lord Jesus +Christ. Amen._” + +The lips were moving faster than ever on the pillow; the head was +beginning to turn from side to side, and the mouth lay open. + +“_Usquequo, Domine_” ... began Beatrice. + +Chris dipped his thumb in the vessel, and sank swiftly on to his knees. + +“_Per istam sanctam Unctionem_”--“_through this holy unction_....” + +(The old man leaned suddenly forward on to his knees, and steadied that +rolling head in his two hands; and Chris signed firmly on the eyelids, +pressing them down and feeling the fluttering beneath his thumb as he +did so.) + +“... _And His most loving mercy, may the Lord forgive thee whatsoever +thou hast sinned through sight._” + +Ah! that was done--dear God! those eyes that had drooped and sneered, +that had looked so greedily on treasure--their lids shone now with the +loving-kindness of God. + +Chris snatched a morsel of wool that Morris put forward from behind, +wiped the eyelids, and dropped the fragment into the earthen basin at +his side. + +“_Per istam sanctam Unctionem_....” + +And the ears were anointed--the ears that had listened to Layton’s +filth, to Cromwell’s plotting; and to the cries of the oppressed. + +The nostrils; the lips that had lied and stormed and accused against +God’s people, compressed now in his father’s fingers--they seemed to +sneer even now, and to writhe under the soft oil; the hands that had +been laid on God’s portion, that had torn the vessels from the altar and +the cloth of gold from the treasury--those too were signed now, and lay +twitching on the coverlet. + +The bed clothes at the foot of the wooden framework were lifted and laid +back as Chris passed round to the end, and the long feet, icy cold, were +lying exposed side by side. + +_Per Istam sanctam Unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, indulgeat +tibi Domimus quidquid peccasti per incessum pedum. Amen._ + +Then they too were sealed with pardon, the feet that had been so swift +and unwearied in the war with God, that had trodden the sanctuary in His +despite, and trampled down the hearts of His saints--they too were +signed now with the mark of Redemption and lay again under the folded +coverlet at the end of their last journey. + +A convulsion tore at the priest’s heart. + + * * * * * + +Then suddenly in the profound silence outside there broke out an +indescribable clamour, drowning in an instant the murmur of prayers +within. It seemed as if the whole world of men were there, and roaring. +The sound poured up through the window, across the moat; the boards of +the flooring vibrated with the sound. There was the throb of drums +pulsating through the long-drawn yell, the screams of women, the barking +of dogs; and a moment later, like some devilish benediction, the bells +of Barking Church pealed out, mellow and jangling, in an exultation of +blood. + +Ralph struggled in his bed; his hands rose clutching at his throat, +tearing open his shirt before Beatrice’s fingers could reach them. The +breath came swift and hoarse through his open teeth, and his eyelids +flickered furiously. Then they opened, and his face grew quiet, as he +looked out across the room. + +“My--my Lord!” he said. + +THE END. +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 16375 *** diff --git a/16375-h/16375-h.htm b/16375-h/16375-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..91f8882 --- /dev/null +++ b/16375-h/16375-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,17466 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The King’s Achievement | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> /* <![CDATA[ */ + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} +.p0 {text-indent: 0em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; width: 60%;} +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 4px; } +.x-ebookmaker table {width: 95%;} + +.tdl {text-align: left; vertical-align: top;} +.tdc {text-align: center; vertical-align: top;} +.tdr {text-align: right; vertical-align: top;} + + +.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} + +.right {text-align: right; text-indent: 0em;} + +/* Poetry */ + +.poetry { + display: block; + text-align: left; + margin-left: 0 + } +/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry in browsers */ +/* .poetry {display: inline-block;} */ +/* large inline blocks don't split well on paged devices */ +@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } + +.x-ebookmaker .poetry { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 5% + } + +.xbig {font-size: 2em;} +.big {font-size: 1.3em;} +.small {font-size: 0.8em;} + +abbr[title] { + text-decoration: none; +} + + /* ]]> */ </style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 16375 ***</div> + + + + +<h1>THE KING’S ACHIEVEMENT</h1> + +<p class="center p2">By <span class="big">Robert Hugh Benson</span><br>Author of “By What Authority?” “The Light Invisible,” +“A Book of the Love of Jesus,” etc.</p> + +<p class="center p2"><i>Non minus principi turpia sunt multa supplicia, quam medico multa +funera.</i><br>(Sen. de clem. 1, 24, 1.)</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><i>I must express my gratitude once more to the Rev. Dom Bede Camm, +O.S.B., as well as to the Very Rev. Mgr. Barnes, who have done me great +service in revising proofs and making suggestions; to the Rev. E. +Conybeare, who very kindly provided the coins for the cover-design of +the book; to my mother and sister, to Eustace Virgo, Esq., to Dr. +Ross-Todd, and to others, who have been extremely kind in various ways +during the writing of this book in the summer and autumn of 1904.</i></p> + +<p><i>I must also express my great indebtedness to the Right Rev. Abbot +Gasquet, O.S.B., both on account of his invaluable books, which I have +used freely, and for his personal kindness in answering my questions.</i></p> + +<p class="right">ROBERT HUGH BENSON</p> + +<p><i>The Catholic Rectory, +Cambridge, +July 14, 1905.</i></p> + +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr><td class="tdc">BOOK I.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdc">THE KING’S WILL.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">CHAPTER</td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">I. A DECISION</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">II. A FORETASTE OF PEACE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">III. THE ARRIVAL AT LEWES</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV. A COMMISSION</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">V. MASTER MORE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI. RALPH’S INTERCESSION</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII. A MERRY PRISONER</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII. A HIGHER STEP</a></td></tr><tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX. LIFE AT LEWES</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">X. THE ARENA</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI. A CLOSING-IN</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII. A RECOVERY</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII. PRISONER AND PRINCE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV. THE SACRED PURPLE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV. THE KING’S FRIEND</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdc">BOOK II.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdc">THE KING’S TRIUMPH.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdc">PART I.—THE SMALLER HOUSES.</td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_2I">I. AN ACT OF FAITH</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_2II">II. THE BEGINNING OF THE VISITATION</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_2III">III. A HOUSE OF LADIES</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_2IV">IV. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_2V">V. FATHER AND SON</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_2VI">VI. A NUN’S DEFIANCE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_2VII">VII. ST. PANCRAS PRIORY</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_2VIII">VIII. RALPH’S RETURN</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_2IX">IX. RALPH’S WELCOME</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdc">PART II—THE FALL OF LEWES.</td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_3I">I. INTERNAL DISSENSION</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_3II">II. SACERDOS IN AETERNUM</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_3III">III. THE NORTHERN RISING</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_3IV">IV. THE DESTRUCTION OF THE SEAL</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_3V">V. THE SINKING SHIP</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_3VI">VI. THE LAST STAND</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_3VII">VII. AXES AND HAMMERS</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdc">BOOK III.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdc">THE KING’S GRATITUDE.</td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_4I">I. A SCHEME</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_4II">II. A DUEL</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_4III">III. A PEACE-MAKER</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_4IV">IV. THE ELDER SON</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_4V">V. THE MUMMERS</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_4VI">VI. A CATASTROPHE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_4VII">VII. A QUESTION OF LOYALTY</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_4VIII">VIII. TO CHARING</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_4IX">IX. A RELIEF-PARTY</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_4X">X. PLACENTIA</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_4XI">XI. THE KING’S HIGHNESS</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_4XII">XII. THE TIDINGS AT THE TOWER</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> +<a href="#CHAPTER_4XIII">XIII. THE RELEASE</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center big">BENEFICO—IGNOTO<br> +HVNC—LIBRVM<br> +D.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center xbig">THE KING’S ACHIEVEMENT</p> +</div> + +<h2 id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I<br><span class="small">A DECISION</span></h2> + + + +<p>Overfield Court lay basking in warm June sunshine. The western side of +the great house with its new timber and plaster faced the evening sun +across the square lawns and high terrace; and the woods a couple of +hundred yards away cast long shadows over the gardens that lay beyond +the moat. The lawns, in their broad plateaux on the eastern side +descended by steps, in cool shadow to the lake that formed a +quarter-circle below the south-eastern angle of the house; and the +mirrored trees and reeds on the other side were broken, circle after +circle, by the great trout that were rising for their evening meal. The +tall front of the house on the north, formed by the hall in the centre +with the kitchen at its eastern end and the master’s chamber on the +western, was faced by a square-towered gatehouse through which the +straight drive leading into the main road approached the house under a +lime-avenue; and on the south side the ground fell away again rapidly +below the chapel and the morning-room, in copse and garden and wild +meadow bright with buttercups and ox-eye daisies, down to the lake again +and the moat that ran out of it round the entire domain.</p> + +<p>The cobbled courtyard in the centre of the house, where the tall leaded +pump stood, was full of movement. Half a dozen trunks lay there that +had just been carried in from the luggage-horses that were now being led +away with patient hanging heads towards the stables that stood outside +the gatehouse on the right, and three or four dusty men in livery were +talking to the house-servants who had come out of their quarters on the +left. From the kitchen corner came a clamour of tongues and dishes, and +smoke was rising steadily from the huge outside chimney that rose beyond +the roofs.</p> + +<p>Presently there came clear and distinct from the direction of the +village the throb of hoofs on the hard road; and the men shouldered the +trunks, and disappeared, staggering, under the low archway on the right, +beside which the lamp extinguisher hung, grimy with smoke and grease. +The yard dog came out at the sound of the hoofs, dragging his chain +after him, from his kennel beneath the little cloister outside the +chapel, barked solemnly once or twice, and having done his duty lay down +on the cool stones, head on paws, watching with bright eyes the door +that led from the hall into the Court. A moment later the little door +from the masters chamber opened; and Sir James Torridon came out and, +giving a glance at the disappearing servants, said a word or two to the +others, and turned again through the hall to meet his sons.</p> + +<p>The coach was coming up the drive round toward the gatehouse, as he came +out on the wide paved terrace; and he stood watching the glitter of +brasswork through the dust, the four plumed cantering horses in front, +and the bobbing heads of the men that rode behind; and there was a grave +pleased expectancy on his bearded face and in his bright grey eyes as he +looked. His two sons had met at Begham, and were coming home, Ralph from +town sites a six months’ absence, and Christopher from Canterbury, +where he had been spending a week or two in company with Mr. Carleton, +the chaplain of the Court. He was the more pleased as the house had been +rather lonely in their absence, since the two daughters were both from +home, Mary with her husband, Sir Nicholas Maxwell, over at Great Keynes, +and Margaret at her convent education at Rusper: and he himself had had +for company his wife alone.</p> + +<p>She came out presently as the carriage rolled through the archway, a +tall dignified figure of a woman, finely dressed in purple and black, +and stood by him, silently, a yard or two away, watching the carriage +out of steady black eyes. A moment later the carriage drew up at the +steps, and a couple of servants ran down to open the door.</p> + +<p>Ralph stepped out first, a tall man like both his parents, with a face +and slow gait extraordinarily like his mother’s, and dressed in the same +kind of rich splendour, with a short silver-clasped travelling cloak, +crimson hose, and plumed felt cap; and his face with its pointed black +beard had something of the same steady impassivity in it; he was +flicking the dust from his shoulder as he came up the steps on to the +terrace.</p> + +<p>Christopher followed him, not quite so tall as the other, and a good ten +years younger, with the grey eyes of his father, and a little brown +beard beginning to sprout on his cheeks and chin.</p> + +<p>Ralph turned at the top of the steps</p> + +<p>“The bag,” he said shortly; and then turned again to kiss his parents’ +hands; as Christopher went back to the carriage, from which the priest +was just stepping out. Sir James asked his son about the journey.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” he said; and then added, “Christopher was late at Begham.”</p> + +<p>“And you are well, my son?” asked his mother, as they turned to walk up +to the house.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes!” he said again.</p> + +<p>Sir James waited for Christopher and Mr. Carleton, and the three +followed the others a few yards behind.</p> + +<p>“You saw her?” said his father.</p> + +<p>Christopher nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, “I must speak to you, sir, before I tell the others.”</p> + +<p>“Come to me when you are dressed, then. Supper will be in an hour from +now;” and he looked at his son with a kind of sharp expectancy.</p> + +<p>The courtyard was empty as they passed through, but half a dozen +servants stood crowded in the little flagged passage that led from it +into the kitchen, and watched Ralph and his mother with an awed interest +as they came out from the hall. Mr. Ralph had come down from the heart +of life, as they knew; had been present at the crowning of Anne Boleyn a +week before, had mixed with great folks; and what secrets of State might +there not be in that little strapped bag that his brother carried behind +him?</p> + +<p>When the two first had disappeared, the servants broke into talk, and +went back to the kitchen.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Lady Torridon, with her elder son and the chaplain, had to wait a few +minutes on the dais in the hall an hour later, before the door under the +musicians’ gallery opened, and the other two came in from the master’s +chamber. Sir James looked a little anxious as he came across the clean +strewed rushes, past the table at the lower end where the household sat, +but Christopher’s face was bright with excitement. After a word or two +of apology they moved to their places. Mr. Carleton said grace, and as +they sat down the door behind from the kitchen opened, and the servants +came through with the pewter dishes.</p> + +<p>Ralph was very silent at first; his mother sat by him almost as silent +as himself; the servants sprang about noiseless and eager to wait on +him; and Sir James and the chaplain did most of the conversation, +pleasant harmless talk about the estate and the tenants; but as supper +went on, and the weariness of the hot journey faded, and the talk from +the lower tables grew louder, Ralph began to talk a little more freely.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, “the crowning went well enough. The people were quiet +enough. She looked very pretty in her robes; she was in purple velvet, +and her gentlemen in scarlet. We shall have news of her soon.”</p> + +<p>Sir James looked up sharply at his son. They were all listening +intently; and even a servant behind Ralph’s chair paused with a silver +jug.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Ralph again with a tranquil air, setting down his Venetian +glass; “God has blessed the union already.”</p> + +<p>“And the King?” asked his father, from his black velvet chair in the +centre.</p> + +<p>There fell a deeper silence yet as that name was mentioned. Henry +dominated the imagination of his subjects to an extraordinary degree, no +less in his heavy middle-age than in the magnificent strength and +capacity of his youth.</p> + +<p>But Ralph answered carelessly enough. He had seen the King too often.</p> + +<p>“The King looked pleased enough; he was in his throne. He is stouter +than when I saw him last. My Lord of Canterbury did the crowning; Te +Deum was sung after, and then solemn mass. There was a dozen abbots, I +should think, and my Lords of York and London and Winchester with two or +three more. My Lord of Suffolk bore the crown.”</p> + +<p>“And the procession?” asked his father again.</p> + +<p>“That, too, was well enough. There came four chariots after the Queen, +full of ancient old ladies, at which some of the folks laughed. And then +the rest of them.”</p> + +<p>They talked a few minutes about the coronation, Sir James asking most of +the questions and Ralph answering shortly; and presently Christopher +broke in—</p> + +<p>“And the Lady Katharine—” he began.</p> + +<p>“Hush, my son,” said his father, glancing at Ralph, who sat perfectly +still a moment before answering.</p> + +<p>“Chris is always eager about the wrong thing,” he said evenly; “he is +late at Begham, and then asks me about the Princess Dowager. She is +still alive, if you mean that.”</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon looked from one to the other.</p> + +<p>“And Master Cromwell?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Master Cromwell is well enough. He asked me to give you both his +respects. I left him at Hackney.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The tall southern windows of the hall, above the pargetted plaster, had +faded through glowing ruby and blue to dusk before they rose from the +table and went down and through the passage into the little parlour next +the master’s chamber, where they usually took their dessert. This part +of the house had been lately re-built, but the old woodwork had been +re-used, and the pale oak panels, each crowned by an elaborate foliated +head, gave back the pleasant flicker of the fire that burned between the +polished sheets of Flemish tiles on either side of the hearth. A great +globe stood in the corner furthest from the door, with a map of England +hanging above it. A piece of tapestry hung over the mantelpiece, +representing Diana bending over Endymion, and two tall candles in brass +stands burned beneath. The floor was covered with rushes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carleton, who had come with them as far as the door, according to +custom, was on the point of saying-good-night, when Sir James called him +back.</p> + +<p>“Come in, father,” he said, “we want you to-night. Chris has something +to tell us.”</p> + +<p>The priest came in and sat down with the others, his face in shadow, at +the corner of the hearth.</p> + +<p>Sir James looked across at his younger son and nodded; and Chris, his +chin on his hand, and sitting very upright on the long-backed settle +beside the chaplain, began rather nervously and abruptly.</p> + +<p>“I—I have told Ralph,” he said, “on the way here and you, sir; but I +will tell you again. You know I was questioning whether I had a vocation +to the religious life; and I went, with that in my mind, to see the Holy +Maid. We saw her, Mr. Carleton and I; and—and I have made up my mind I +must go.”</p> + +<p>He stopped, hesitating a little, Ralph and his mother sat perfectly +still, without a word or sign of either sympathy or disapproval. His +father leaned forward a little, and smiled encouragingly.</p> + +<p>“Go on, my son.”</p> + +<p>Chris drew a breath and leaned back more easily.</p> + +<p>“Well, we went to St. Sepulchre’s; and she could not see us for a day or +two. There were several others staying with us at the monastery; there +was a Carthusian from Sheen—I forget his name.”</p> + +<p>“Henry Man,” put in the chaplain.</p> + +<p>“—And some others,” went on Chris, “all waiting to see her. Dr. Bocking +promised to tell us when we could see her; and he came to us one morning +after mass, and told us that she was in ecstasy, and that we were to +come at once. So we all went to the nuns’ chapel, and there she was on +her knees, with her arms across her breast.”</p> + +<p>He stopped again. Ralph cleared his throat, crossed his legs, and drank +a little wine.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” said the knight questioningly.</p> + +<p>“Well—she said a great deal,” went on Chris hurriedly.</p> + +<p>“About the King?” put in his mother who was looking at the fire.</p> + +<p>“A little about the King,” said Chris, “and about holy things as well. +She spoke about heaven; it was wonderful to hear her; with her eyes +burning, and such a voice; and then she spoke low and deep and told us +about hell, and the devil and his torments; and I could hardly bear to +listen; and she told us about shrift, and what it did for the soul; and +the blessed sacrament. The Carthusian put a question or two to her, and +she answered them: and all the while she was speaking her voice seemed +to come from her body, and not from her mouth; and it was terrible to +see her when she spoke of hell; her tongue lay out on her cheek, and her +eyes grew little and afraid.”</p> + +<p>“Her tongue in her cheek, did you say?” asked Ralph politely, without +moving.</p> + +<p>Chris flushed, and sat back silent. His father glanced quickly from one +to the other.</p> + +<p>“Tell us more, Chris,” he said. “What did she say to you?”</p> + +<p>The young man leaned forward again.</p> + +<p>“I wish, Ralph—” he began.</p> + +<p>“I was asking—” began the other.</p> + +<p>“There, there,” said Sir James. “Go on, Chris.”</p> + +<p>“Well, after a while Dr. Bocking brought me forward; and told her to +look at me; and her eyes seemed to see something beyond me; and I was +afraid. But he told me to ask her, and I did. She said nothing for a +while; and then she began to speak of a great church, as if she saw it; +and she saw there was a tower in the middle, and chapels on either side, +and tombs beside the high altar; and an image, and then she stopped, and +cried out aloud ‘Saint Pancras pray for us’—and then I knew.”</p> + +<p>Chris was trembling violently with excitement as he turned to the priest +for corroboration. Mr. Carleton nodded once or twice without speaking.</p> + +<p>“Then I knew,” went on Chris. “You know it was what I had in my mind; +and I had not spoken a word of Lewes, or of my thought of going there.”</p> + +<p>“Had you told any?” asked his father.</p> + +<p>“Only Dr. Bocking. Then I asked her, was I to go there; but she said +nothing for a while; and her eyes wandered about; and she began to speak +of black monks going this way and that; and she spoke of a prior, and of +his ring; it was of gold, she said, with figures engraved on it. You +know the ring the Prior wears?” he added, looking eagerly at his father.</p> + +<p>Sir James nodded.</p> + +<p>“I know it,” he said. “Well?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I asked her again, was I to go there; and then she looked at me +up and down; I was in my travelling suit; but she said she saw my cowl +and its hanging sleeves, and an antiphoner in my hands; and then her +face grew dreadful and afraid again, and she cried out and fell forward; +and Dr. Bocking led us out from the chapel.”</p> + +<p>There was a long silence as Chris ended and leaned back again, taking +up a bunch of raisins. Ralph sighed once as if wearied out, and his +mother put her hand on his sleeve. Then at last Sir James spoke.</p> + +<p>“You have heard the story,” he said, and then paused; but there was no +answer. At last the chaplain spoke from his place.</p> + +<p>“It is all as Chris said,” he began, “I was there and heard it. If the +woman is not from God, she is one of Satan’s own; and it is hard to +think that Satan would tell us of the sacraments and bid us use them +greedily, and if she is from God—” he stopped again.</p> + +<p>The knight nodded at him.</p> + +<p>“And you, sweetheart?” he said to his wife.</p> + +<p>She turned to him slowly.</p> + +<p>“You know what I think,” she said. “If Chris believes it, he must go, I +suppose.”</p> + +<p>“And you, Ralph?”</p> + +<p>Ralph raised himself in his chair.</p> + +<p>“Do you wish me to say what I think?” he asked deliberately, “or what +Chris wishes me to say? I will do either.”</p> + +<p>Chris made a quick movement of his head; but his father answered for +him.</p> + +<p>“We wish you to say what you think,” he said quietly.</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” said Ralph, “it is this. I cannot agree with the father. I +think the woman is neither of God nor Satan; but that she speaks of her +own heart, and of Dr. Bocking’s. I believe they are a couple of +knaves—clever knaves, I will grant, though perhaps the woman is +something of a fool too; for she deceives persons as wise even as Mr. +Carleton here by speaking of shrift and the like; and so she does the +priests’ will, and hopes to get gain for them and herself. I am not +alone in thinking this—there are many in town who think with me, and +holy persons too.”</p> + +<p>“Is Master Cromwell one of them?” put in Chris bitterly.</p> + +<p>Ralph raised his eyebrows a little.</p> + +<p>“There is no use in sneering,” he said, “but Master Cromwell is one of +them. I suppose I ought not to speak of this; but I know you will not +speak of it again; and I can tell you of my own knowledge that the Holy +Maid will not be at St. Sepulchre’s much longer.”</p> + +<p>His father leaned forward.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean—” he began.</p> + +<p>“I mean that His Grace is weary of her prophesyings. It was all very +well till she began to meddle with matters of State; but His Grace will +have none of that. I can tell you no more. On the other hand if Chris +thinks he must be a monk, well and good; I do not think so myself; but +that is not my affair; but I hope he will not be a monk only because a +knavish woman has put out her tongue at him, and repeated what a knavish +priest has put into her mouth. But I suppose he had made up his mind +before he asked me.”</p> + +<p>“He has made up his mind,” said his father, “and will hold to it unless +reason is shown to the contrary; and for myself I think he is right.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, then,” said Ralph; and leaned back once more.</p> + +<p>The minutes passed away in silence for a while; and then Ralph asked a +question or two about his sisters.</p> + +<p>“Mary is coming over to hunt to-morrow with her husband,” said Sir +James. “I have told Forrest to be here by nine o’clock. Shall you come +with us?”</p> + +<p>Ralph yawned, and sipped his Bordeaux.</p> + +<p>“I do not know,” he said, “I suppose so.”</p> + +<p>“And Margaret is at Rusper still,” went on the other. “She will not be +here until August.”</p> + +<p>“She, too, is thinking of Religion,” put in Lady Torridon impassively.</p> + +<p>Ralph looked up lazily.</p> + +<p>“Indeed,” he said, “then Mary and I will be the only worldlings.”</p> + +<p>“She is very happy with the nuns,” said his father, smiling, “and a +worldling can be no more than that; and perhaps not always as much.”</p> + +<p>Ralph smiled with one corner of his mouth.</p> + +<p>“You are quite right, sir,” he said.</p> + +<p>The bell for evening prayers sounded out presently from the turret in +the chapel-corner, and the chaplain rose and went out.</p> + +<p>“Will you forgive me, sir,” said Ralph, “if I do not come this evening? +I am worn out with travelling. The stay at Begham was very troublesome.”</p> + +<p>“Good-night, then, my son. I will send Morris to you immediately.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, after prayers,” said Ralph. “I need not deprive God of his prayers +too.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Lady Torridon had gone out silently after the chaplain, and Sir James +and Chris walked across the Court together. Overhead the summer night +sky was clear and luminous with stars, and the air still and fragrant. +There were a few lights here and there round the Court, and the tall +chapel windows shone dimly above the little cloister. A link flared +steadily on its iron bracket by the door into the hall, and threw waves +of flickering ruddy light across the cobble-stones, and the shadow of +the tall pump wavered on the further side.</p> + +<p>Sir James put his hand tenderly on Chris’ shoulder.</p> + +<p>“You must not be angry at Ralph, my son,” he said. “Remember he does not +understand.”</p> + +<p>“He should not speak like that,” said Chris fiercely. “How dare he do +so?”</p> + +<p>“Of course he should not; but he does not know that. He thinks he is +advising you well. You must let him alone, Chris. You must remember he +is almost mad with business. Master Cromwell works him hard.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The chapel was but dimly lighted as Chris made his way up to the high +gallery at the west where he usually knelt. The altar glimmered in the +dusk at the further end, and only a couple of candles burned on the +priest’s kneeling stool on the south side. The rest was dark, for the +house hold knew compline by heart; and even before Chris reached his +seat he heard the blessing asked for a quiet night and a perfect end. It +was very soothing to him as he leaned over the oak rail and looked down +on the dim figures of his parents in their seat at the front, and the +heads of the servants below, and listened to the quiet pulsation of +those waves of prayer going to and fro in the dusk, beating, as a summer +tide at the foot of a cliff against those white steps that rose up to +the altar where a single spark winked against the leaded window beneath +the silk-shrouded pyx. He had come home full of excitement and joy at +his first sight of an ecstatic, and at the message that she had seemed +to have for him, and across these heightened perceptions had jarred the +impatience of his brother in the inn at Begham and in the carriage on +their way home, and above all his sharp criticism and aloofness in the +parlour just now. But he became quieter as he knelt now; the bitterness +seemed to sink beneath him and to leave him alone in a world of +peaceful glory—the world of mystic life to which his face was now set, +illuminated by the words of the nun. He had seen one who could see +further than he himself; he had looked upon eyes that were fixed on +mysteries and realms in which he indeed passionately believed, but which +were apt to be faint and formless sometimes to the weary eyes of faith +alone; and as a proof that these were more than fancies she had told him +too of what he could verify—of the priory at Lewes which she had never +visited, and even the details of the ring on the Prior’s finger which he +alone of the two had seen. And then lastly she had encouraged him in his +desires, had seen him with those same wide eyes in the habit that he +longed to wear, going about the psalmody—the great <i>Opus Dei</i>—to which +he longed to consecrate his life. If such were not a message from God to +him for what further revelation could he hope?</p> + +<p>And as for Ralph’s news and interests, of what value were they? Of what +importance was it to ask who sat on the Consort’s throne, or whether she +wore purple velvet or red? These were little matters compared with those +high affairs of the soul and the Eternal God, of which he was already +beginning to catch glimpses, and even the whispers that ran about the +country places and of which Ralph no doubt could tell him much if he +chose, of the danger that threatened the religious houses, and of +Henry’s intentions towards them—even these were but impotent cries of +the people raging round the throne of the Anointed.</p> + +<p>So he knelt here now, pacified and content again, and thought with +something of pity of his brother dozing now no doubt before the parlour +fire, cramped by his poor ideals and dismally happy in his limitations.</p> + +<p>His father, too, was content down below in the chapel. He himself had +at one time before his marriage looked towards the religious life; and +now that it had turned out otherwise had desired nothing more than that +he should be represented in that inner world of God’s favourites by at +least one of his children. His daughter Margaret had written a week +earlier to say that her mind was turning that way, and now Christopher’s +decision had filled up the cup of his desires. To have a priest for a +son, and above all one who was a monk as well was more than he had dared +to hope, though not to pray for; if he could not be one himself, at +least he had begotten one—one who would represent him before God, bring +a blessing on the house, and pray and offer sacrifice for his soul until +his time should be run out and he see God face to face. And Ralph would +represent him before men and carry on the line, and hand on the house to +a third generation—Ralph, at whom he had felt so sorely puzzled of +late, for he seemed full of objects and ambitions for which the father +had very little sympathy, and to have lost almost entirely that delicate +relation with home that was at once so indefinable and so real. But he +comforted himself by the thought that his elder son was not wholly +wasting time as so many of the country squires were doing round about, +absorbed in work that a brainless yeoman could do with better success. +Ralph at least was occupied with grave matters, in Cromwell’s service +and the King’s, and entrusted with high secrets the issue of which both +temporal and eternal it was hard to predict. And, no doubt, the knight +thought, in time he would come back and pick up the strands he had +dropped; for when a man had wife and children of his own to care for, +other businesses must seem secondary; and questions that could be +ignored before must be faced then.</p> + +<p>But he thought with a little anxiety of his wife, and wondered whether +his elder son had not after all inherited that kind of dry rot of the +soul, in which the sap and vigour disappear little by little, leaving +the shape indeed intact but not the powers. When he had married her, +thirty-five years before, she had seemed to him an incarnate mystery of +whose key he was taking possession—her silence had seemed pregnant with +knowledge, and her words precious pieces from an immeasurable treasury; +and then little by little he had found that the wide treasury was empty, +clean indeed and capacious, but no more, and above all with no promise +of any riches as yet unperceived. Those great black eyes, that high +forehead, those stately movements, meant nothing; it was a splendid +figure with no soul within. She did her duty admirably, she said her +prayers, she entertained her guests with the proper conversation, she +could be trusted to behave well in any circumstances that called for +tact or strength; and that was all. But Ralph would not be like that; he +was intensely devoted to his work, and from all accounts able in its +performance; and more than that, with all his impassivity he was capable +of passion; for his employer Sir Thomas Cromwell was to Ralph’s eyes, +his father had begun to see, something almost more than human. A word +against that master of his would set his eyes blazing and his voice +trembling; and this showed that at least the soul was not more than +sleeping, or its powers more than misdirected.</p> + +<p>And meanwhile there was Chris; and at the thought the father lifted his +eyes to the gallery, and saw the faint outline of his son’s brown head +against the whitewash.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br><span class="small">A FORETASTE OF PEACE</span></h2></div> + + +<p>It was not until the party was riding home the next day that Sir +Nicholas Maxwell and his wife were informed of Chris’ decision.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>They had had a fair day’s sport in the two estates that marched with one +another between Overfield and Great Keynes, and about fifteen stags had +been killed as well as a quantity of smaller game.</p> + +<p>Ralph had ridden out after the party had left, and had found Sir +Nicholas at the close of the afternoon just as the last drive was about +to take place; and had stepped into his shelter to watch the finish. It +was a still, hot afternoon, and the air over the open space between the +copse in which they stood and the dense forest eighty yards away danced +in the heat.</p> + +<p>Ralph nodded to his brother-in-law, who was flushed and sunburnt, and +then stood behind, running his eyes up and down that sturdy figure with +the tightly-gaitered legs set well apart and the little feathered cap +that moved this way and that as the sportsman peered through the +branches before him. Once he turned fierce eyes backwards at the whine +of one of the hounds, and then again thrust his hot dripping face into +the greenery.</p> + +<p>Then very far away came a shout, and a chorus of taps and cries followed +it, sounding from a couple of miles away as the beaters after sweeping +a wide circle entered the thick undergrowth on the opposite side of the +wood. Sir Nicholas’ legs trembled, and he shifted his position a little, +half lifting his strong spliced hunting bow as he did so.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes there was silence about them except for the distant +cries, and once for the stamp of a horse behind them. Then Sir Nicholas +made a quick movement, and dropped his hands again; a single rabbit had +cantered out from the growth opposite, and sat up with cocked ears +staring straight at the deadly shelter. Then another followed; and again +in a sudden panic the two little furry bodies whisked back into cover.</p> + +<p>Ralph marvelled at this strange passion that could set a reasonable man +twitching and panting like the figure in front of him. He himself was a +good rider, and a sufficiently keen hunter when his blood was up; but +this brother-in-law of his seemed to live for little else. Day after +day, as Ralph knew, from the beginning of the season to the end he was +out with his men and hounds, and the rest of the year he seemed to spend +in talking about the sport, fingering and oiling his weapons through +long mornings, and elaborating future campaigns, in which the quarries’ +chances should be reduced to a minimum.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>On a sudden Sir Nicholas’s figure stiffened and then relaxed. A doe had +stepped out noiselessly from the cover, head up and feet close together, +sniffing up wind—and they were shooting no does this month. Then again +she moved along against the thick undergrowth, stepping delicately and +silently, and vanished without a sound a hundred yards along to the +left.</p> + +<p>The cries and taps were sounding nearer now, and at any moment the game +might appear. Sir Nicholas shifted his position again a little, and +simultaneously the scolding voice of a blackbird rang out in front, and +he stopped again. At the same moment a hare, mad with fright, burst out +of the cover, making straight for the shelter. Sir Nicholas’ hands rose, +steady now the crisis had come; and Ralph leaning forward touched him on +the shoulder and pointed.</p> + +<p>A great stag was standing in the green gloom within the wood eighty +yards away, with a couple of does at his flank. Then as a shout sounded +out near at hand, he bolted towards the shelter in a line that would +bring him close to it. Ralph crouched down, for he had left his bow with +his man an hour earlier, and one of the hounds gave a stifled yelp as +Nicholas straightened himself and threw out his left foot. Either the +sound or the movement startled the great brown beast in front, and as +the arrow twanged from the string he checked and wheeled round, and went +off like the wind, untouched. A furious hiss of the breath broke from +Nicholas, and he made a swift sign as he turned to his horse; and in a +moment the two lithe hounds had leapt from the shelter and were flying +in long noiseless leaps after the disappearing quarry; the does, +confused by the change of direction, had whisked back into cover. A +moment later Nicholas too was after the hounds, his shoulders working +and his head thrust forward, and a stirrup clashed and jingled against +the saddle.</p> + +<p>Ralph sat down on the ground smiling. It gave him a certain pleasure to +see such a complete discomfiture; Nicholas was always so amusingly angry +when he failed, and so full of reasons.</p> + +<p>The forest was full of noises now; a crowd of starlings were protesting +wildly overhead, there were shouts far away and the throb of hoofs, and +the ground game was pouring out of the undergrowth and dispersing in +all directions. Once a boar ran past, grumbling as he went, turning a +wicked and resentful eye on the placid gentleman in green who sat on the +ground, but who felt for his long dirk as he saw the fury on the brute’s +face and the foam on the tusks. But the pig thought discretion was best, +and hurried on complaining. More than one troop of deer flew past, the +does gathered round their lord to protect him, all swerving together +like a string of geese as they turned the corner of the shelter and +caught sight of Ralph; but the beaters were coming out now, whistling +and talking as they came, and gathering into groups of two or three on +the ground, for the work was done, and it had been hot going.</p> + +<p>Mary Maxwell appeared presently on her grey horse, looking slender and +dignified in her green riding-suit with the great plume shading her +face, and rode up to Ralph whom she had seen earlier in the afternoon.</p> + +<p>“My husband?” she enquired looking down at Ralph who was lying with his +hat over his eyes.</p> + +<p>“He left me just now,” said her brother, “very hot and red, after a stag +which he missed. That will mean some conversation to-night, Minnie.”</p> + +<p>She smiled down at him.</p> + +<p>“I shall agree with him, you know,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Of course you will; it is but right. And I suppose I shall too.”</p> + +<p>“Will you wait for him? Tell him we are going home by the mill. It is +all over now.”</p> + +<p>Ralph nodded, and Mary moved off down the glade to join the others.</p> + +<p>Ralph began to wonder how Nicholas would take the news of Chris’ +decision. Mary, he knew very well, would assent to it quietly as she +did to all normal events, even though they were not what she would have +wished; and probably her husband would assent too, for he had a great +respect for a churchman. For himself his opinions were divided and he +scarcely knew what he thought. From the temporal point of view Chris’ +step would be an advantage to him, for the vow of poverty would put an +end to any claims upon the estate on the part of the younger son; but +Ralph was sufficiently generous not to pay much attention to this. From +the social point of view, no great difference would be made; it was as +respectable to have a monk for a brother as a small squire, and Chris +could never be more than this unless he made a good marriage. From the +spiritual point of view—and here Ralph stopped and wondered whether it +was very seriously worth considering. It was the normal thing of course +to believe in the sublimity of the religious life and its peculiar +dignity; but the new learning was beginning to put questions on the +subject that had very considerably affected the normal view in Ralph’s +eyes. In that section of society where new ideas are generated and to +which Ralph himself belonged, there were very odd tales being told; and +it was beginning to be thought possible that monasticism had +over-reached itself, and that in trying to convert the world it had +itself been converted by the world. Ralph was proud enough of the honour +of his family to wonder whether it was an unmixed gain that his own +brother should join such ranks as these. And lastly there were the facts +that he had learnt from his association with Cromwell that made him +hesitate more than ever in giving Chris his sympathy. He had been +thinking these points over in the parlour the night before when the +others had left him, and during the day in the intervals of the sport; +and he was beginning to come to the conclusion that all things +considered he had better just acquiesce in the situation, and neither +praise nor blame overmuch.</p> + +<p>It was a sleepy afternoon. The servants had all gone by now, and the +horn-blowings and noises had died away in the direction of the mill; +there was no leisure for stags to bray, as they crouched now far away in +the bracken, listening large-eyed and trumpet-eared for the sounds of +pursuit; only the hum of insect life in the hot evening sunshine filled +the air; and Ralph began to fall asleep, his back against a fallen +trunk.</p> + +<p>Then he suddenly awakened and saw his brother-in-law, black against the +sky, looking down at him, from the saddle.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Ralph, not moving.</p> + +<p>Nicholas began to explain. There were a hundred reasons, it seemed, for +his coming home empty-handed; and where were his men?</p> + +<p>“They are all gone home,” said Ralph, getting up and stretching himself. +“I waited for you. It is all over.”</p> + +<p>“You understand,” said Nicholas, putting his horse into motion, and +beginning to explain all over again, “you understand that it had not +been for that foul hound yelping, I should have had him here. I never +miss such a shot; and then when we went after him—”</p> + +<p>“I understand perfectly, Nick,” said Ralph. “You missed him because you +did not shoot straight, and you did not catch him because you did not go +fast enough. A lawyer could say no more.”</p> + +<p>Nicholas threw back his head and laughed loudly, for the two were good +friends.</p> + +<p>“Well, if you will have it,” he said, “I was a damned fool. There! A +lawyer dare not say as much—not to me, at any rate.”</p> + +<p>Ralph found his man half a mile further on coming to meet him with his +horse, and he mounted and rode on with Nicholas towards the mill.</p> + +<p>“I have something to tell you,” he said presently. “Chris is to be a +monk.”</p> + +<p>“Mother of God!” cried Nicholas, half checking his horse, “and when was +that arranged?”</p> + +<p>“Last night,” went on Ralph. “He went to see the Holy Maid at St. +Sepulchre’s, and it seems that she told him he had a vocation; so there +is an end of it.”</p> + +<p>“And what do you all think of it?” asked the other.</p> + +<p>“Oh! I suppose he knows his business.”</p> + +<p>Nicholas asked a number of questions, and was informed that Chris +proposed to go to Lewes in a month’s time. He was already twenty-three, +the Prior had given his conditional consent before, and there was no +need for waiting. Yes, they were Cluniacs; but Ralph believed that they +were far from strict just at present. It need not be the end of Chris so +far as this world was concerned.</p> + +<p>“But you must not say that to him,” he went on, “he thinks it is heaven +itself between four walls, and we shall have a great scene of farewell. +I think I must go back to town before it takes place: I cannot do that +kind of thing.”</p> + +<p>Nicholas was not attending, and rode on in silence for a few yards, +sucking in his lower lip.</p> + +<p>“We are lucky fellows, you and I,” he said at last, “to have a monk to +pray for us.”</p> + +<p>Ralph glanced at him, for he was perfectly grave, and a rather intent +and awed look was in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“I think a deal of that,” he went on, “though I cannot talk to a +churchman as I should. I had a terrible time with my Lord of Canterbury +last year, at Oxford. He was not a hunter like this one, and I knew not +what else to speak of.”</p> + +<p>Ralph’s eyes narrowed with amusement.</p> + +<p>“What did you say to him?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I forget,” said Nicholas, “and I hope my lord did. Mary told me I +behaved like a fool. But this one is better, I hear. He is at Ashford +now with his hounds.”</p> + +<p>They talked a little more about Chris, and Ralph soon saw on which side +Nicholas ranged himself. It was an unfeigned pleasure to this hunting +squire to have a monk for a brother-in-law; there was no knowing how +short purgatory might not be for them all under the circumstances.</p> + +<p>It was evident, too, when they came up with the others a couple of miles +further on, that Nicholas’s attitude towards the young man had undergone +a change. He looked at him with a deep respect, refrained from +criticising his bloodless hands, and was soon riding on in front beside +him, talking eagerly and deferentially, while Ralph followed with Mary +and his father.</p> + +<p>“You have heard?” he said to her presently.</p> + +<p>“Father has just told me,” she said. “We are very much pleased—dear +Chris!”</p> + +<p>“And then there is Meg,” put in her father.</p> + +<p>“Oh! Meg; yes, I knew she would. She is made for a nun.”</p> + +<p>Sir James edged his horse in presently close to Ralph, as Mary went in +front through a narrow opening in the wood.</p> + +<p>“Be good to him,” he said. “He thinks so much of you.”</p> + +<p>Ralph glanced up and smiled into the tender keen eyes that were looking +into his own.</p> + +<p>“Why, of course, sir,” he said.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was an immense pleasure to Chris to notice the difference in +Nicholas’s behaviour towards him. There was none of that loud and +cheerful rallying that stood for humour, no criticisms of his riding or +his costume. The squire asked him a hundred questions, almost nervously, +about the Holy Maid and himself, and what had passed between them.</p> + +<p>“They say the Host was carried to her through the air from Calais, +Chris, when the King was there. Did you hear her speak of that?”</p> + +<p>Chris shook his head.</p> + +<p>“There was not time,” he said.</p> + +<p>“And then there was the matter of the divorce—” Nicholas turned his +head slightly; “Ralph cannot hear us, can he? Well—the matter of the +divorce—I hear she denounced that, and would have none of it, and has +written to the Pope, too.”</p> + +<p>“They were saying something of the kind,” said Chris, “but I thought it +best not to meddle.”</p> + +<p>“And what did she say to you?”</p> + +<p>Chris told him the story, and Nicholas’s eyes grew round and fixed as he +listened; his mouth was a little open, and he murmured inarticulate +comments as they rode together up from the mill.</p> + +<p>“Lord!” he said at last, “and she said all that about hell. God save us! +And her tongue out of her mouth all the while! And did you see anything +yourself? No devils or angels?”</p> + +<p>“I saw nothing,” said Chris. “I just listened, but she saw them.”</p> + +<p>“Lord!” said Nicholas again, and rode on in profound silence.</p> + +<p>The Maxwells were to stay to supper at the Court; and drive home +afterwards; so there was no opportunity for Chris to go down and bathe +in the lake as he usually did in summer after a day’s hunting, for +supper was at seven o’clock, and he had scarcely more than time to +dress.</p> + +<p>Nicholas was very talkative at supper, and poured out all that Chris had +told him, with his usual lack of discretion; for the other had already +told the others once all the details that he thought would interest +them.</p> + +<p>“They were talking about the divorce,” he broke out, and then stopped +and eyed Ralph craftily; “but I had better not speak of that here—eh, +Chris?”</p> + +<p>Ralph looked blandly at his plate.</p> + +<p>“Chris did not mention that,” he said. “Tell us, Nick.”</p> + +<p>“No, no,” cried Nicholas. “I do not want you to go with tales to town. +Your ears are too quick, my friend. Then there was that about the Host +flying from Calais, eh, Chris? No, no; you said you had heard nothing of +that.”</p> + +<p>Chris looked up and his face was a little flushed.</p> + +<p>“No, Nick,” he said.</p> + +<p>“There seems to have been a great deal that Chris did not tell us—” +began Ralph.</p> + +<p>Sir James glanced swiftly from his seat under the canopy.</p> + +<p>“He told us all that was needed,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Aha!” broke out Nicholas again, “but the Holy Maid said that the King +would not live six months if he—”</p> + +<p>Chris’s face was full of despair and misery, and his father interrupted +once more.</p> + +<p>“We had better not speak of that, my son,” he said to Nicholas. “It is +best to leave such things alone.”</p> + +<p>Ralph was smiling broadly with tight lips by now.</p> + +<p>“By my soul, Nick, you are the maddest wind-bag I have ever heard. All +our heads might go for what you have said to-night. Thank God the +servants are gone.”</p> + +<p>“Nick,” cried Mary imploringly, “do hold your tongue.”</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon looked from one to the other with serene amusement, and +there was an odd pause such as generally fell when she showed signs of +speaking. Her lips moved but she said nothing, and ran her eyes over the +silver flagons before her.</p> + +<p>When the Maxwells had gone at last, and prayers were over, Chris slipped +across the Court with a towel, and went up to the priest’s room over the +sacristy. Mr. Carleton looked up from his lamp and rose.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Chris,” he said, “I will come. The moon will be up soon.”</p> + +<p>They went down together through the sacristy door on to the level +plateaux of lawns that stretched step after step down to the dark lake. +The sky was ablaze with stars, and in the East there was a growing light +in the quarter where the moon was at its rising. The woods beyond the +water were blotted masses against the sky; and the air was full of the +rich fragrance of the summer night. The two said very little, and the +priest stopped on the bank as Chris stepped out along the little boarded +pier that ran out among the rushes into deep water. There was a scurry +and a cry, and a moor-hen dashed out from under cover, and sped across +the pond, scattering the silver points that hung there motionless, +reflected from the heaven overhead.</p> + +<p>Chris was soon ready, and stood there a moment, a pale figure in the +gloom, watching the shining dots rock back again in the ripples to +motionlessness. Then he lifted his hands and plunged.</p> + +<p>It seemed to him, as he rose to the surface again, as if he were +swimming between two sides. As he moved softly out across the middle, +and a little ripple moved before him, the water was invisible. There was +only a fathomless gulf, as deep below as the sky was high above, pricked +with stars. As he turned his head this way and that the great trees, +high overhead, seemed less real than those two immeasurable spaces above +and beneath. There was a dead silence everywhere, only broken by the +faint suck of the water over his shoulder, and an indescribably sweet +coolness that thrilled him like a strain of music. Under its influence, +again, as last night, the tangible, irritating world seemed to sink out +of his soul; here he was, a living creature alone in a great silence +with God, and nothing else was of any importance.</p> + +<p>He turned on his back, and there was the dark figure on the bank +watching him, and above it the great towered house, with its half-dozen +lighted windows along its eastern side, telling him of the world of men +and passion.</p> + +<p>“Look,” came the priest’s voice, and he turned again, and over the +further bank, between two tall trees, shone a great silver rim of the +rising moon. A path of glory was struck now across the black water, and +he pleased himself by travelling up it towards the remote splendour, +noticing as he went how shadows had sprung into being in that moment, +and how the same light that made the glory made the dark as well. His +soul seemed to emerge a stage higher yet from the limits in which the +hot day and the shouting and the horns and the crowded woods had +fettered it. How remote and little seemed Ralph’s sneers and Nicholas’s +indiscretions and Mary’s pity! Here he moved round in a cooler and +serener mood. That keen mood, whether physical or spiritual he did not +care to ask, made him inarticulate as he walked up with the priest ten +minutes later. But Mr. Carleton seemed to understand.</p> + +<p>“There are some things besides the divorce best not talked about,” he +said, “and I think bathing by starlight is one of them.”</p> + +<p>They passed under the chapel window presently, and Chris noticed with an +odd sensation of pleasure the little translucent patch of colour between +the slender mullions thrown by the lamp within—a kind of reflex or +anti-type of the broad light shining over the water.</p> + +<p>“Come up for a while,” went on the priest, as they reached the +side-entrance, “if you are not too tired.”</p> + +<p>The two went through the sacristy-door, locking it behind them, and up +the winding stairs in the turret at the corner to the priest’s chamber. +Chris threw himself down, relaxed and happy, in the tall chair by the +window, where he could look out and see the moon, clear of the trees +now, riding high in heaven.</p> + +<p>“That was a pity at supper,” said the priest presently, as he sat at the +table. “I love Sir Nicholas and think him a good Christian, but he is +scarcely a discreet one.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me, father,” broke out Chris, “what is going to happen?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Carleton looked at him smiling. He had a pleasant ugly face, with +little kind eyes and sensitive mouth.</p> + +<p>“You must ask Mr. Ralph,” he said, “or rather you must not. But he knows +more than any of us.”</p> + +<p>“I wish he would not speak like that.”</p> + +<p>“Dear lad,” said the priest, “you must not feel it like that. Remember +our Lord bore contempt as well as pain.”</p> + +<p>There was silence a moment, and then Chris began again. “Tell me about +Lewes, father. What will it be like?”</p> + +<p>“It will be bitterly hard,” said the priest deliberately. “Christ Church +was too bitter for me, as you know. I came out after six months, and the +Cluniacs are harder. I do not know if I lost my vocation or found it; +but I am not the man to advise you in either case.”</p> + +<p>“Ralph thinks it is easy enough. He told me last night in the carriage +that I need not trouble myself, and that monks had a very pleasant time. +He began to tell me some tale about Glastonbury, but I would not hear +it.”</p> + +<p>“Ah,” said the chaplain regretfully, “the world’s standard for monks is +always high. But you will find it hard enough, especially in the first +year. But, as I said, I am not the man to advise you—I failed.”</p> + +<p>Chris looked at him with something of pity in his heart, as the priest +fingered the iron pen on the table, and stared with pursed lips and +frowning forehead. The chaplain was extraordinarily silent in public, +just carrying on sufficient conversation not to be peculiar or to seem +morose, but he spoke more freely to Chris, and would often spend an hour +or two in mysterious talk with Sir James. Chris’s father had a very +marked respect for the priest, and had had more than one sharp word with +his wife, ten years before when he had first come to the house, and had +found Lady Torridon prepared to treat her chaplain with the kind of +respect that she gave to her butler. But the chaplain’s position was +secured by now, owing in a large measure to his own tact and +unobtrusiveness, and he went about the house a quiet, sedate figure of +considerable dignity and impressiveness, performing his duties +punctually and keeping his counsel. He had been tutor to both the sons +for a while, to Ralph only for a few months, but to Chris since his +twelfth birthday, and the latter had formed with him a kind of peaceful +confederacy, often looking in on him at unusual hours, always finding +him genial, although very rarely confidential. It was to Mr. Carleton, +too, that Chris owed his first drawings to the mystical life of prayer; +there was a shelf of little books in the corner by the window of the +priest’s room, from which he would read to the boy aloud, first +translating them into English as he went, and then, as studies +progressed, reading the Latin as it stood; and that mysteriously +fascinating world in which great souls saw and heard eternal things and +talked familiarly with the Saviour and His Blessed Mother had first +dawned on the boy there. New little books, too, appeared from time to +time, and the volumes had overflowed their original home; and from that +fact Christopher gathered that the priest, though he had left the +external life of Religion, still followed after the elusive spirit that +was its soul.</p> + +<p>“But tell me,” he said again, as the priest laid the pen down and sat +back in his chair, crossing his buckled feet beneath the cassock; “tell +me, why is it so hard? I am not afraid of the discipline or the food.”</p> + +<p>“It is the silence,” said the priest, looking at him.</p> + +<p>“I love silence,” said Chris eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you love an hour or two, or there would be no hope of a vocation +for you. But I do not think you will love a year. However, I may be +wrong. But it is the day after day that is difficult. And there is no +relaxation; not even in the infirmary. You will have to learn signs in +your novitiate; that is almost the first exercise.”</p> + +<p>The priest got up and fetched a little book from the corner cupboard.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” he said, and then began to read aloud the instructions laid +down for the sign-language of novices; how they were to make a circle in +the air for bread since it was round, a motion of drinking for water, +and so forth.</p> + +<p>“You see,” he said, “you are not even allowed to speak when you ask for +necessaries. And, you know, silence has its peculiar temptations as well +as its joys. There is accidie and scrupulousness and contempt of +others, and a host of snares that you know little of now.”</p> + +<p>“But—” began Chris.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; it has its joys, and gives a peculiar strength.”</p> + +<p>Chris knew, of course, well enough by now in an abstract way what the +Religious discipline would mean, but he wished to have it made more +concrete by examples, and he sat long with the chaplain asking him +questions. Mr. Carleton had been, as he said, in the novitiate at +Canterbury for a few months, and was able to tell him a good deal about +the life there; but the differences between the Augustinians and the +Cluniacs made it impossible for him to go with any minuteness into the +life of the Priory at Lewes. He warned him, however, of the tendency +that every soul found in silence to think itself different from others, +and of so peculiar a constitution that ordinary rules did not apply to +it. He laid so much stress on this that the other was astonished.</p> + +<p>“But it is true,” said Chris, “no two souls are the same.”</p> + +<p>The priest smiled.</p> + +<p>“Yes, that is true, too; no two sheep are the same, but the sheep nature +is one, and you will have to learn that for yourself. A Religious rule +is drawn up for many, not for one; and each must learn to conform +himself. It was through that I failed myself; I remembered that I was +different from others, and forgot that I was the same.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Carleton seemed to take a kind of melancholy pleasure in returning +to what he considered his own failure, and Chris began to wonder whether +the thought of it was not the secret of that slight indication to +moroseness that he had noticed in him.</p> + +<p>The moon was high and clear by now, and Chris often leaned his cheek on +the sash as the priest talked, and watched that steady shining shield +go up the sky, and the familiar view of lawns and water and trees, +ghostly and mystical now in the pale light.</p> + +<p>The Court was silent as he passed through it near midnight, as the +household had been long in bed; the flaring link had been extinguished +two hours before, and the shadows of the tall chimneys lay black and +precise at his feet across the great whiteness on the western side of +the yard. Again the sense of the smallness of himself and his +surroundings, of the vastness of all else, poured over his soul; these +little piled bricks and stones, the lawns and woods round about, even +England and the world itself, he thought, as his mind shot out towards +the stars and the unfathomable spaces—all these were but very tiny +things, negligeable quantities, when he looked at them in the eternal +light. It was this thought, after all, that was calling him out of the +world, and had been calling him fitfully ever since his soul awoke eight +years ago, and knew herself and her God: and his heart expanded and grew +tremulous as he remembered once more that his vocation had been sealed +by a divine messenger, and that he would soon be gone out of this little +cell into the wide silent liberty of the most dear children of God.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br><span class="small">THE ARRIVAL AT LEWES</span></h2></div> + + +<p>Ralph relented as the month drew on, and was among those who wished +Chris good-bye on the afternoon of the July day on which he was to +present himself at Lewes. The servants were all drawn up at the back of +the terrace against the hall, watching Ralph, even more than his +departing brother, with the fascinated interest that the discreet and +dignified friend of Cromwell always commanded. Ralph was at his best on +such occasions, genial and natural, and showed a pleasing interest in +the girths of the two horses, and the exact strapping of the couple of +bags that Chris was to take with him. His own man, too, Mr. Morris, who +had been with him ever since he had come to London, was to ride with +Chris, at his master’s express wish; stay with him in the guest-house +that night, and return with the two horses and a precise report the next +morning.</p> + +<p>“You have the hares for my Lord Prior,” he said impressively, looking at +the game that was hanging head downwards from the servant’s saddle. +“Tell him that they were killed on Tuesday.”</p> + +<p>Sir James and his younger son were walking together a few yards away in +deep talk; and Lady Torridon had caused a chair to be set for her at the +top of the terrace steps where she could at once do her duty as a +mother, and be moderately comfortable at the same time. She hardly spoke +at all, but looked gravely with her enigmatic black eyes at the horses’ +legs and the luggage, and once held up her hand to silence a small dog +that had begun to yelp with excitement.</p> + +<p>“They must be going,” said Ralph, when all was ready; and at the same +moment Chris and his father came up, Sir James’s arm thrown over his +son’s shoulders.</p> + +<p>The farewells were very short; it was impossible to indulge in sentiment +in the genial business-atmosphere generated by Ralph, and a minute later +Chris was mounted. Sir James said no more, but stood a little apart +looking at his son. Lady Torridon smiled rather pleasantly and nodded +her head two or three times, and Ralph, with Mr. Carleton, stood on the +gravel below, his hand on Chris’s crupper, smiling up at him.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye, Chris,” he said, and added with an unusual piety, “God keep +you!”</p> + +<p>As the two horses passed through the gatehouse, Chris turned once again +with swimming eyes, and saw the group a little re-arranged. Sir James +and Ralph were standing together, Ralph’s arm thrust through his +father’s; Mr. Carleton was still on the gravel, and Lady Torridon was +walking very deliberately back to the house.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The distance to Lewes was about fourteen miles, and it was not until +they had travelled some two of them, and had struck off towards Burgess +Hill that Chris turned his head for Mr. Morris to come up.</p> + +<p>It was very strange to him to ride through that familiar country, where +he had ridden hundreds of times before, and to know that this was +probably the last time that he would pass along those lanes, at least +under the same circumstances. It had the same effect on him, as a death +in the house would have; the familiar things were the same, but they +wore a new and strange significance. The few men and children he passed +saluted him deferentially as usual, and then turned fifty yards further +on and stared at the young gentleman who, as they knew, was riding off +on such an errand, and with such grave looks.</p> + +<p>Mr. Morris came up with an eager respectfulness at Chris’s sign, keeping +a yard or two away lest the swinging luggage on his own horse should +discompose the master, and answered a formal question or two about the +roads and the bags, which Chris put to him as a gambit of conversation. +The servant was clever and well trained, and knew how to modulate his +attitude to the precise degree of deference due to his master and his +master’s relations; he had entered Ralph’s service from Cromwell’s own +eight years before. He liked nothing better than to talk of London and +his experiences there, and selected with considerable skill the topics +that he knew would please in each case. Now he was soon deep on the +subject of Wolsey, pausing respectfully now and again for corroboration, +or to ask a question the answer to which he knew a good deal better than +Chris himself.</p> + +<p>“I understand, sir, that the Lord Cardinal had a wonderful deal of +furniture at York House: I saw some of it at Master Cromwell’s; his +grace sent it to him, at least, so I heard. Is that so, sir?”</p> + +<p>Chris said he did not know.</p> + +<p>“Well, I believe it was so, sir; there was a chair there, set with +agates and pearl, that I think I heard Mr. Ralph say had come from +there. Did you ever see my lord, sir?”</p> + +<p>Chris said he had seen him once in a narrow street at Westminster, but +the crowd was so great he could not get near.</p> + +<p>“Ah! sir; then you never saw him go in state. I remember once seeing +him, sir, going down to Hampton Court, with his gentlemen bearing the +silver pillars before him, and the two priests with crosses. What might +the pillars mean, sir?”</p> + +<p>Again Chris confessed he did not know.</p> + +<p>“Ah, sir!” said Morris reflectively, as if he had received a +satisfactory answer. “And there was his saddle, Mr. Christopher, with +silver-gilt stirrups, and red velvet, set on my lord’s mule. And there +was the Red Hat borne in front by another gentleman. At mass, too, he +would be served by none under the rank of an earl; and I heard that he +would have a duke sometimes for his lavabo. I heard Mr. Ralph say that +there was more than a hundred and fifty carts that went with the Lord +Cardinal up to Cawood, and that was after the King’s grace had broken +with him, sir; and he was counted a poor man.”</p> + +<p>Chris asked what was in the carts.</p> + +<p>“Just his stuff, sir,” said Mr. Morris reverentially.</p> + +<p>The servant seemed to take a melancholy pleasure in recounting these +glories, but was most discreet about the political aspects of Wolsey, +although Chris tried hard to get him to speak, and he would neither +praise nor blame the fallen prelate; he was more frank, however, about +Campeggio, who as an Italian, was a less dangerous target.</p> + +<p>“He was not a good man, I fear, Mr. Christopher. They told some very +queer tales of him when he was over here. But he could ride, sir, Master +Maxwell’s man told me, near as well as my Lord of Canterbury himself. +You know they say, sir, that the Archbishop can ride horses that none of +his grooms can manage. But I never liked to think that a foreigner was +to be sent over to do our business for us, and more than ever not such +an one as that.”</p> + +<p>He proceeded to talk a good deal about Campeggio; his red silk and his +lace, his gout, his servants, his un-English ways; but it began to get a +little tiresome to Chris, and soon after passing through Ditchling, Mr. +Morris, having pointed across the country towards Fatton Hovel, and +having spoken of the ghost of a cow that was seen there with two heads, +one black and one white, fell gradually behind again, and Chris rode +alone.</p> + +<p>They were coming up now towards the downs, and the great rounded green +shoulders heaved high against the sky, gashed here and there by white +strips and patches where the chalk glared in the bright afternoon sun. +Ditchling beacon rose to their right, a hundred feet higher than the +surrounding hills, and the high country sloped away from it parallel +with their road, down to Lewes. The shadows were beginning to lie +eastwards and to lengthen in long blue hollows and streaks against the +clear green turf.</p> + +<p>Chris wondered when he would see that side of the downs again; his ride +was like a kind of farewell progress, and all that he looked on was +dearer than it had ever been before, but he comforted himself by the +thought of that larger world, so bright with revelation and so +enchanting in its mystery that lay before him. He pleased himself by +picturing this last journey as a ride through an overhung lane, +beautiful indeed, but dusky, towards shining gates beyond which lay +great tracts of country set with palaces alive with wonderful presences, +and watered by the very river of life.</p> + +<p>He did not catch sight of Lewes until he was close upon it, and it +suddenly opened out beneath him, with its crowded roofs pricked by a +dozen spires, the Norman castle on its twin mounds towering to his left, +a silver gleam of the Ouse here and there between the plaster and timber +houses as the river wound beneath its bridges, and beyond all the vast +masses of the Priory straight in front of him to the South of the town, +the church in front with its tall central tower, a huddle of convent +roofs behind, all white against the rich meadows that lay beyond the +stream.</p> + +<p>Mr. Morris came up as Chris checked his horse here.</p> + +<p>“See, Mr. Christopher,” he said, and the other turned to see the town +gallows on the right of the road, not fifty yards away, with a ragged +shape or two hanging there, and a great bird rising heavily and winging +its way into the west. Mr. Morris’s face bore a look of judicial +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“We are making a sweep of them,” he said, and as a terrible figure, all +rags and sores, with blind red eyes and toothless mouth rose croaking +and entreating from the ditch by the road, the servant pointed with +tight lips and solemn eyes to Hangman’s Acre. Chris fumbled in his +purse, threw a couple of groats on to the ground, and rode on down the +hill.</p> + +<p>His heart was beating fast as he went down Westgate Lane into the High +Street, and it quickened yet further as the great bells in the Priory +church began to jangle; for it was close on vesper time, and +instinctively he shook his reins to hasten his beast, who was picking +his way delicately through the filth and tumbled stones that lay +everywhere, for the melodious roar seemed to be bidding him haste and be +welcome. Mr. Morris was close beside him, and remarked on this and that +as they went, the spire of St. Ann’s away to the right, with St. +Pancras’s Bridge, a swinging sign over an inn with Queen Katharine’s +face erased, but plainly visible under Ann Boleyn’s, the tall mound +beyond the Priory crowned by a Calvary, and the roof of the famous +dove-cote of the Priory, a great cruciform structure with over two +thousand cells. But Christopher knew it all better than the servant, +and paid little attention, and besides, his excitement was running too +high. They came down at last through Antioch Street, Puddingbag Lane, +and across the dry bed of the Winterbourne, and the gateway was before +them.</p> + +<p>The bells had ceased by now, after a final stroke. Mr. Morris sprang off +his horse, and drew on the chain that hung by the smaller of the two +doors. There was a sound of footsteps and a face looked out from the +grating. The servant said a word or two; the face disappeared, and a +moment later there was the turning of a key, and one leaf of the +horse-entrance rolled back. Chris touched his beast with his heel, +passed through on to the paved floor, and sat smiling and flushed, +looking down at the old lay-brother, who beamed up at him pleasantly and +told him he was expected.</p> + +<p>Chris dismounted at once, telling the servant to take the horses round +to the stables on the right, and himself went across the open court +towards the west end of the church, that rose above him fifty feet into +the clear evening air, faced with marble about the two doors, and +crowned by the western tower and the high central spire beyond where the +bells hung. On the right lay the long low wall of the Cellarer’s +offices, with the kitchen jutting out at the lower end, and the +high-pitched refectory roof above and beyond it. The church was full of +golden light as he entered, darkening to dusk in the chapels on either +side, pricked with lights here and there that burned before the images, +and giving an impression of immense height owing to its narrowness and +its length. The air was full of rolling sound, sonorous and full, that +echoed in the two high vaults on this side and that of the high altar, +was caught in the double transepts, and lost in the chapels that opened +in a corona of carved work at the further end, for the monks were busy +at the <i>Opus Dei</i>, and the psalms rocked from side to side, as if the +nave were indeed a great ship ploughing its way to the kingdom of +heaven.</p> + +<p>There were a few seats at the western end, and into one of these +Christopher found his way, signing himself first from the stoup at the +door, and inclining before he went in. Then he leaned his chin on his +hands and looked eagerly.</p> + +<p>It was difficult to make out details clearly at the further end, for the +church was poorly lighted, and there was no western window; the glare +from the white roads, too, along which he had come still dazzled him, +but little by little, helped by his own knowledge of the place, he began +to see more clearly.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>High above him ran the lines of the clerestory, resting on the rounded +Norman arches, broken by the beam that held the mighty rood, with the +figures of St. Mary and St. John on either side; and beyond, yet higher, +on this side of the high altar, rose the lofty air of the vault ninety +feet above the pavement. To left and right opened the two western +transepts, and from where he knelt he could make out the altar of St. +Martin in the further one, with its apse behind. The image of St. +Pancras himself stood against a pillar with the light from the lamp +beneath flickering against his feet. But Christopher’s eyes soon came +back to the centre, beyond the screen, where a row of blackness on +either side in the stalls, marked where the monks rested back, and where +he would soon be resting with them. There were candles lighted at sparse +intervals along the book-rests, that shone up into the faces bent down +over the wide pages beneath; and beyond all rose the altar with two +steady flames crowning it against the shining halpas behind that cut it +off from the four groups of slender carved columns that divided the five +chapels at the extreme east. Half-a-dozen figures sat about the nave, +and Christopher noticed an old man, his white hair falling to his +shoulders, two seats in front, beginning to nod gently with sleep as the +soft heavy waves of melody poured down, lulling him.</p> + +<p>He began now to catch the words, as his ears grew accustomed to the +sound, and he, too, sat back to listen.</p> + +<p>“<i>Fiat pax in virtute tua: et abundantia in turribus tuis;” “Propter +fratres meos et proximos meos<i>:” came back the answer, “</i>loquebar pacem +de te<i>.” And once more: “</i>Propter domum Domini Dei nostri: quaesivi bona +tibi</i>.”</p> + +<p>Then there was a soft clattering roar as the monks rose to their feet, +and in double volume from the bent heads sounded out the <i>Gloria Patri</i>.</p> + +<p>It was overwhelming to the young man to hear the melodious tumult of +praise, and to remember that in less than a week he would be standing +there among the novices and adding his voice. It seemed to him as if he +had already come into the heart of life that he had felt pulsating round +him as he swam in the starlight a month before. It was this that was +reality, and the rest illusion. Here was the end for which man was made, +the direct praise of God; here were living souls eager and alert on the +business of their existence, building up with vibration after vibration +the eternal temple of glory in which God dwelt. Once he began to sing, +and then stopped. He would be silent here until his voice had been +authorized to join in that consecrated offering.</p> + +<p>He waited until all was over, and the two lines of black figures had +passed out southwards, and the sacristan was going round putting out +the lights; and then he too rose and went out, thrilled and excited, +into the gathering twilight, as the bell for supper began to sound out +from the refectory tower.</p> + +<p>He found Mr. Morris waiting for him at the entrance to the guest-house, +and the two went up the stairs at the porter’s directions into the +parlour that looked out over the irregular court towards the church and +convent.</p> + +<p>Christopher sat down in the window seat.</p> + +<p>Over the roofs opposite the sky was still tender and luminous, with rosy +light from the west, and a little troop of pigeons were wheeling over +the church in their last flight before returning home to their huge +dwelling down by the stream. The porter had gone a few minutes before, +and Christopher presently saw him returning with Dom Anthony Marks, the +guest-master, whom he had got to know very well on former visits. In a +fit of shyness he drew back from the window, and stood up, nervous and +trembling, and a moment later heard steps on the stairs. Mr. Morris had +slipped out, and now stood in the passage, and Chris saw him bowing with +a nicely calculated mixture of humility and independence. Then a black +figure appeared in the doorway, and came briskly through.</p> + +<p>“My dear Chris,” he said warmly, holding out his hands, and Chris took +them, still trembling and excited.</p> + +<p>They sat down together in the window-seat, and the monk opened the +casement and threw it open, for the atmosphere was a little heavy, and +then flung his arm out over the sill and crossed his feet, as if he had +an hour at his disposal. Chris had noticed before that extraordinary +appearance of ease and leisure in such monks, and it imperceptibly +soothed him. Neither would Dom Anthony speak on technical matters, but +discoursed pleasantly about the party at Overfield Court and the beauty +of the roads between there and Lewes, as if Chris were only come to pay +a passing visit.</p> + +<p>“Your horses are happy enough,” he said. “We had a load of fresh beans +sent in to-day. And you, Chris, are you hungry? Supper will be here +immediately. Brother James told the guest-cook as soon as you came.”</p> + +<p>He seemed to want no answer, but talked on genially and restfully about +the commissioners who had come from Cluny to see after their possessions +in England, and their queer French ways.</p> + +<p>“Dom Philippe would not touch the muscadel at first, and now he cannot +have too much. He clamoured for claret at first, and we had to give him +some. But he knows better now. But he says mass like a holy angel of +God, and is a very devout man in all ways. But they are going soon.”</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony fulfilled to perfection the ideal laid down for a +guest-master in the Custumal. He showed, indeed, the “cheerful +hospitality to guests” by which “the good name of the monastery was +enhanced, friendships multiplied, enmities lessened, God honoured, and +charity increased.” He recognised perfectly well the confused terror in +Christopher’s mind and his anxiety to make a good beginning, and +smoothed down the tendency to awkwardness that would otherwise have +shown itself. He had a happy tranquil face, with wide friendly eyes that +almost disappeared when he laughed, and a row of even white teeth.</p> + +<p>As he talked on, Christopher furtively examined his habit, though he +knew every detail of it well enough already. He had, of course, left his +cowl, or ample-sleeved singing gown, in the sacristy on leaving the +church, and was in his black frock girded with the leather belt, and +the scapular over it, hanging to the ground before and behind. His hood, +Christopher noticed, was creased and flat as if he were accustomed to +sit back at his ease. He wore strong black leather boots that just +showed beneath his habit, and a bunch of keys, duplicates of those of +the camerarius and cook, hung on his right side. He was tonsured +according to the Benedictine pattern, and his lips and cheeks were +clean-shaven.</p> + +<p>He noticed presently that Christopher was eyeing him, and put his hand +in friendly fashion on the young man’s knee.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, smiling, “yours is ready too. Dom Franklin looked it out +to-day, and asked me whether it would be the right size. But of the +boots I am not so sure.”</p> + +<p>There was a clink and a footstep outside, and the monk glanced out.</p> + +<p>“Supper is here,” he said, and stood up to look at the table—the +polished clothless top laid ready with a couple of wooden plates and +knives, a pewter tankard, salt-cellar and bread. There was a plain chair +with arms drawn up to it. The rest of the room, which Christopher had +scarcely noticed before, was furnished plainly and efficiently, and had +just that touch of ornament that was intended to distinguish it from a +cell. The floor was strewn with clean rushes; a couple of iron +candlesticks stood on the mantelpiece, and the white walls had one or +two religious objects hanging on them—a wooden crucifix opposite the +table, a framed card bearing an “Image of Pity” with an indulgenced +prayer illuminated beneath, a little statue of St. Pancras on a bracket +over the fire, and a clear-written copy of rules for guests hung by the +low oak door.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony nodded approvingly at the table, took up a knife and rubbed +it delicately on the napkin, and turned round.</p> + +<p>“We will look here,” he said, and went towards the second door by the +fire. Christopher followed him, and found himself in the bedroom, +furnished with the same simplicity as the other; but with an iron +bedstead in the corner, a kneeling stool beside it, with a little French +silver image of St. Mary over it, and a sprig of dried yew tucked in +behind. A thin leather-bound copy of the Little Office of Our Lady lay +on the sloping desk, with another book or two on the upper slab. Dom +Anthony went to the window and threw that open too.</p> + +<p>“Your luggage is unpacked, I see,” he said, nodding to the press beside +which lay the two trunks, emptied now by Mr. Morris’s careful hands.</p> + +<p>“There are some hares, too,” said Christopher. “Ralph has sent them to +my Lord Prior.”</p> + +<p>“The porter has them,” said the monk, “they look strangely like a +bribe.” And he nodded again with a beaming face, and his eyes grew +little and bright at his own humour.</p> + +<p>He examined the bed before he left the room again, turned back the +sheets and pressed them down, and the straw rustled drily beneath; +glanced into the sweating earthenware jug, refolded the coarse towel on +its wooden peg, and then smiled again at the young man.</p> + +<p>“Supper,” he said briefly.</p> + +<p>Christopher stayed a moment with a word of excuse to wash off the dust +of his ride from his hands and face, and when he came back into the +sitting-room found the candles lighted, the wooden shutters folded over +the windows, and a basin of soup with a roast pigeon steaming on the +table. The monk was standing, waiting for him by the door.</p> + +<p>“I must be gone, Chris,” he said, “but I shall be back before compline. +My Lord Prior will see you to-morrow. There is nothing more? Remember +you are at home now.”</p> + +<p>And on Christopher’s assurances that he had all he could need, he was +gone, leisurely and cheerfully, and his footsteps sounded on the stairs.</p> + +<p>Mr. Morris came up before Chris had finished supper, and as he silently +slipped away his plate and set another for the cheese, Chris remembered +with a nervous exultation that this would be probably the last time that +he would have a servant to wait on him. He was beginning to feel +strangely at home already; the bean soup was strong and savoury, the +beer cool; and he was pleasantly exercised by his ride. Mr. Morris, too, +in answer to his enquiries, said that he had been well looked after in +the servants’ quarters of the guest-house, and had had an entertaining +supper with an agreeable Frenchman who, it seemed, had come with the +Cluniac commissioners. Respect for his master and a sense of the +ludicrous struggled in Mr. Morris’s voice as he described the +foreigner’s pronunciation and his eloquent gestures.</p> + +<p>“He’s not like a man, sir,” he said, and shook with reminiscent +laughter.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was half an hour before Dom Anthony returned, and after hospitable +enquiries, sat down by Chris again in the wide window-seat and began to +talk.</p> + +<p>He told him that guests were not expected to attend the night-offices, +and that indeed he strongly recommended Chris doing nothing of the kind +at any rate that night; that masses were said at all hours from five +o’clock onwards; that prime was said at seven, and was followed by the +<i>Missa familiaris</i> for the servants and work-people of the house. +Breakfast would be ready in the guest-house at eight; the chapter-mass +would be said at the half-hour and after the daily chapter which +followed it had taken place, the Prior wished to see Christopher. The +high mass was sung at ten, and dinner would be served at eleven. He +directed his attention, too, to the card that hung by the door on which +these hours were notified.</p> + +<p>Christopher already knew that for the first three or four days he would +have to remain in the guest-house before any formal step was taken with +regard to him, but he said a word to Father Anthony about this.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the monk, “my Lord Prior will tell you about that. But you +will be here as a guest until Sunday, and on that day you will come to +the morning chapter to beg for admission. You will do that for three +days, and then, please God, you will be clothed as a novice.”</p> + +<p>And once more he looked at him with deep smiling eyes.</p> + +<p>Chris asked him a few more questions, and Dom Anthony told him what he +wished to know, though protesting with monastic etiquette that it was +not his province.</p> + +<p>“Dom James Berkely is the novice-master,” he said, “you will find him +very holy and careful. The first matter you will have to learn is how to +wear the habit, carry your hands, and to walk with gravity. Then you +will learn how to bow, with the hands crossed on the knees, so—” and he +illustrated it by a gesture—“if it is a profound inclination; and when +and where the inclinations are to be made. Then you will learn of the +custody of the eyes. It is these little things that help the soul at +first, as you will find, like—like—the bindings of a peach-tree, that +it may learn how to grow and bear its fruit. And the Rule will be given +you, and what a monk must have by rote, and how to sing. You will not be +idle, Chris.”</p> + +<p>It was no surprise to Christopher to hear how much of the lessons at +first were concerned with external behaviour. In his visits to Lewes +before, as well as from the books that Mr. Carleton had lent him, he had +learnt that the perfection of the Religious Life depended to a +considerable extent upon minutiæ that were both aids to, and the result +of, a tranquil and recollected mind, the acquirement of which was part +of the object of the monk’s ambition. The ideal, he knew, was the +perfect direction of every part of his being, of hands and eyes, as well +as of the great powers of the soul; what God had joined together man +must not put asunder, and the man who had every physical movement under +control, and never erred through forgetfulness or impulse in these +little matters, presumably also was master of his will, and retained +internal as well as external equanimity.</p> + +<p>The great bell began to toll presently for compline, and the +guest-master rose in the midst of his explanations.</p> + +<p>“My Lord Prior bade me thank you for the hares,” he said. “Perhaps your +servant will take the message back to Mr. Ralph to-morrow. Come.”</p> + +<p>They went down the stairs together and out into the summer twilight, the +great strokes sounding overhead in the gloom as they walked. Over the +high wall to the left shone a light or two from Lewes town, and beyond +rose up the shadowy masses of the downs over which Christopher had +ridden that afternoon. Over those hills, too, he knew, lay his old home. +As they walked together in silence up the paved walk to the west end of +the church, a vivid picture rose before the young man’s eyes of the +little parlour where he had sat last night—of his silent mother in her +black satin; his father in the tall chair, Ralph in an unwontedly easy +and genial mood lounging on the other side and telling stories of town, +of the chaplain with his homely, pleasant face, slipping silently out at +the door. That was the last time that all that was his,—that he had a +right and a place there. If he ever saw it again it would be as a guest +who had become the son of another home, with new rights and relations, +and at the thought a pang of uncontrollable shrinking pricked at his +heart.</p> + +<p>But at the door of the church the monk drew his arm within his own for a +moment and held it, and Chris saw the shadowed eyes under his brows rest +on him tenderly.</p> + +<p>“God bless you, Chris!” he said.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br><span class="small">A COMMISSION</span></h2></div> + + +<p>Within a few days of Christopher’s departure to Lewes, Ralph also left +Overfield and went back to London.</p> + +<p>He was always a little intolerant at home, and generally appeared there +at his worst—caustic, silent, and unsympathetic. It seemed to him that +the simple country life was unbearably insipid; he found there neither +wit nor affairs: to see day after day the same faces, to listen to the +same talk either on country subjects that were distasteful to him, or, +out of compliment to himself, political subjects that were unfamiliar to +the conversationalists, was a very hard burden, and he counted such +things as the price he must pay for his occasional duty visits to his +parents. He could not help respecting the piety of his father, but he +was none the less bored by it; and the atmosphere of silent cynicism +that seemed to hang round his mother was his only relief. He thought he +understood her, and it pleased him sometimes to watch her, to calculate +how she would behave in any little domestic crisis or incident that +affected her, to notice the slight movement of her lips and her eyelids +gently lowering and rising again in movements of extreme annoyance. But +even this was not sufficient compensation for the other drawbacks of +life at Overfield Court, and it was with a very considerable relief that +he stepped into his carriage at last towards the end of July, nodded and +smiled once more to his father who was watching him from the terrace +steps with a wistful and puzzled face, anxious to please, and heard the +first crack of the whip of his return journey.</p> + +<p>He had, indeed, a certain excuse for going, for a despatch-rider had +come down from London with papers for him from Sir Thomas Cromwell, and +it was not hard to assume a serious face and announce that he was +recalled by affairs; and there was sufficient truth in it, too, for one +of the memoranda bore on the case of Elizabeth Barton, the holy maid of +Kent, and announced her apprehension. Cromwell however, did not actually +recall him, but mentioned the fact of her arrest, and asked if he had +heard much said of her in the country, and what the opinion of her was +in that district.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The drive up to London seemed very short to him now; he went slowly +through the bundle of papers on which he had to report, annotating them +in order here and there, and staring out of the window now and again +with unseeing eyes. There were a dozen cases on which he was engaged, +which had been forwarded to him during his absence in the country—the +priest at High Hatch was reported to have taken a wife, and Cromwell +desired information about this; Ralph had ridden out there one day and +gossipped a little outside the parsonage; an inn-keeper a few miles to +the north of Cuckfield had talked against the divorce and the reigning +Consort; a mistake had been made in the matter of a preaching license, +and Cranmer had desired Cromwell to look into it; a house had been sold +in Cheapside on which Ralph had been told to keep a suspicious eye, and +he was asked his opinion on the matter; and such things as these +occupied his time fully, until towards four o’clock in the afternoon his +carriage rolled up to the horse-ferry at Lambeth, and he thrust the +papers back into his bag before stepping out.</p> + +<p>On arriving at his own little house in Westminster, the rent of which +was paid by his master, he left his other servants to carry up the +luggage, and set out himself again immediately with Morris in a hackney +carriage for Chancery Lane.</p> + +<p>As he went, he found himself for the hundredth time thinking of the +history of the man to whom he was going.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas Cromwell was beginning to rise rapidly from a life of +adventure and obscurity abroad. He had passed straight from the +Cardinal’s service to the King’s three years before, and had since then +been knighted, appointed privy-councillor, Master of the Jewel-house, +and Clerk of the Hanaper in the Court of Chancery. At the same time he +was actively engaged on his amazing system of espionage through which he +was able to detect disaffection in all parts of the country, and thereby +render himself invaluable to the King, who, like all the Tudors, while +perfectly fearless in the face of open danger was pitiably terrified of +secret schemes.</p> + +<p>And it was to this man that he was confidential agent! Was there any +limit to the possibilities of his future?</p> + +<p>Ralph found a carriage drawn up at the door and, on enquiry, heard that +his master was on the point of leaving; and even as he hesitated in the +entrance, Cromwell shambled down the stairs with a few papers in his +hand, his long sleeveless cloak flapping on each step behind him, and +his felt plumed cap on his head in which shone a yellow jewel.</p> + +<p>His large dull face, clean shaven like a priest’s, lighted up briskly as +he saw Ralph standing there, and he thrust his arm pleasantly through +his agent’s.</p> + +<p>“Come home to supper,” he said, and the two wheeled round and went out +and into the carriage. Mr. Morris handed the bag through the window to +his master, and stood bare-headed as the carriage moved off over the +newly laid road.</p> + +<p>It would have been a very surprising sight to Sir James Torridon to see +his impassive son’s attitude towards Cromwell. He was deferential, eager +to please, nervous of rebuke, and almost servile, for he had found his +hero in that tremendous personality. He pulled out his papers now, shook +them out briskly, and was soon explaining, marking and erasing. Cromwell +leaned back in his corner and listened, putting in a word of comment now +and again, or dotting down a note on the back of a letter, and watching +Ralph with a pleasant, oblique look, for he liked to see his people +alert and busy. But he knew very well what his demeanour was like at +other times, and had at first indeed been drawn to the young man by his +surprising insolence of manner and impressive observant silences.</p> + +<p>“That is very well, Mr. Torridon,” he said. “I will see to the license. +Put them all away.”</p> + +<p>Ralph obeyed, and then sat back too, silent indeed, but with a kind of +side-long readiness for the next subject; but Cromwell spoke no more of +business for the present, only uttering short sentences about current +affairs, and telling his friend the news.</p> + +<p>“Frith has been burned,” he said. “Perhaps you knew it. He was obstinate +to the end, my Lord Bishop reported. He threw Saint Chrysostom and Saint +Augustine back into their teeth. He gave great occasion to the funny +fellows. There was one who said that since Frith would have no +purgatory, he was sent there by my Lord to find out for himself whether +there be such a place or not. There was a word more about his manner of +going there, ‘Frith frieth,’ but ’twas not good. Those funny fellows +over-reach themselves. Hewet went with him to Smithfield and hell.”</p> + +<p>Ralph smiled, and asked how they took it.</p> + +<p>“Oh, very well. A priest bade the folk pray no more for Frith than for a +dog, but Frith smiled on him and begged the Lord to forgive him his +unkind words.”</p> + +<p>He was going on to tell him a little more about the talk of the Court, +when the carriage drove up to the house in Throgmorton Street, near +Austin Friars, which Cromwell had lately built for himself.</p> + +<p>“My wife and children are at Hackney,” he said as he stepped out. “We +shall sup alone.”</p> + +<p>It was a great house, built out of an older one, superbly furnished with +Italian things, and had a large garden at the back on to which looked +the windows of the hall. Supper was brought up almost immediately—a +couple of woodcocks and a salad—and the two sat down, with a pair of +servants in blue and silver to wait on them. Cromwell spoke no more word +of business until the bottle of wine had been set on the table, and the +servants were gone. And then he began again, immediately.</p> + +<p>“And what of the country?” he said. “What do they say there?” He took a +peach from the carved roundel in the centre of the table, and seemed +absorbed in its contemplation.</p> + +<p>Ralph had had some scruples at first about reporting private +conversations, but Cromwell had quieted them long since, chiefly by the +force of his personality, and partly by the argument that a man’s duty +to the State over-rode his duty to his friends, and that since only talk +that was treasonable would be punished, it was simpler to report all +conversations in general that had any suspicious bearing, and that he +himself was most competent to judge whether or no they should be +followed up. Ralph, too, had become completely reassured by now that no +injury would be done to his own status among his friends, since his +master had never yet made direct use of any of his information in such a +manner as that it was necessary for Ralph to appear as a public witness. +And again, too, he had pointed out that the work had to be done, and +that was better for the cause of justice and mercy that it should be +done by conscientious rather than by unscrupulous persons.</p> + +<p>He talked to him now very freely about the conversations in his father’s +house, knowing that Cromwell did not want more than a general specimen +sketch of public feeling in matters at issue.</p> + +<p>“They have great faith in the Maid of Kent, sir,” he said. “My +brother-in-law, Nicholas, spoke of her prophecy of his Grace’s death. It +is the devout that believe in her; the ungodly know her for a fool or a +knave.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Filii hujus saeculi prudentiores sunt</i>,”—quoted Cromwell gravely. +“Your brother-in-law, I should think, was a child of light.”</p> + +<p>“He is, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I should have thought so. And what else did you hear?”</p> + +<p>“There is a good deal of memory of the Lady Katharine, sir. I heard the +foresters talking one day.”</p> + +<p>“What of the Religious houses?”</p> + +<p>Ralph hesitated.</p> + +<p>“My brother Christopher has just gone to Lewes,” he said. “So I heard +more of the favourable side, but I heard a good deal against them, too. +There was a secular priest talking against them one day, with our +chaplain, who is a defender of them.”</p> + +<p>“Who was he?” asked Cromwell, with the same sharp, oblique glance.</p> + +<p>“A man of no importance, sir; the parson of Great Keynes.”</p> + +<p>“The Holy Maid is in trouble,” went on the other after a minute’s +silence. “She is in my Lord of Canterbury’s hands, and we can leave her +there. I suppose she will be hanged.”</p> + +<p>Ralph waited. He knew it was no good asking too much.</p> + +<p>“What she said of the King’s death and the pestilence is enough to cast +her,” went on Cromwell presently. “And Bocking and Hadleigh will be in +his hands soon, too. They do not know their peril yet.”</p> + +<p>They went on to talk of the friars, and of the disfavour that they were +in with the King after the unfortunate occurrences of the previous +spring, when Father Peto had preached at Greenwich before Henry on the +subject of Naboth’s vineyard and the end of Ahab the oppressor. There +had been a dramatic scene, Cromwell said, when on the following Sunday a +canon of Hereford, Dr. Curwin, had preached against Peto from the same +pulpit, and had been rebuked from the rood-loft by another of the +brethren, Father Elstow, who had continued declaiming until the King +himself had fiercely intervened from the royal pew and bade him be +silent.</p> + +<p>“The two are banished,” said Cromwell, “but that is not the end of it. +Their brethren will hear of it again. I have never seen the King so +wrathful. I suppose it was partly because the Lady Katharine so +cossetted them. She was always in the church at the night-office when +the Court was at Greenwich, and Friar Forrest, you know, was her +confessor. There is a rod in pickle.”</p> + +<p>Ralph listened with all his ears. Cromwell was not very communicative +on the subject of the Religious houses, but Ralph had gathered from +hints of this kind that something was preparing.</p> + +<p>When supper was over and the servants were clearing away, Cromwell went +to the window where the glass glowed overhead with his new arms and +scrolls—a blue coat with Cornish choughs and a rose on a fess between +three rampant lions—and stood there, a steady formidable figure, with +his cropped head and great jowl, looking out on to the garden.</p> + +<p>When the men had gone he turned again to Ralph.</p> + +<p>“I have something for you,” he said, “but it is greater than those other +matters—a fool could not do it. Sit down.”</p> + +<p>He came across the room to the fireplace, as Ralph sat down, and himself +took a chair by the table, lifting the baudkin cushion and settling it +again comfortably behind him.</p> + +<p>“It is this,” he said abruptly. “You know that Master More has been in +trouble. There was the matter of the gilt flagon which Powell said he +had taken as a bribe, and the gloves lined with forty pound. Well, he +disproved that, and I am glad of it, glad of it,” he repeated steadily, +looking down at his ring and turning it to catch the light. “But there +is now another matter—I hear he has been practising with the Holy Maid +and hearkening to her ravings, and that my Lord of Rochester is in it +too. But I am not sure of it.”</p> + +<p>Cromwell stopped, glanced up at Ralph a moment, and then down again.</p> + +<p>“I am not sure of it,” he said again, “and I wish to be. And I think you +can help me.”</p> + +<p>Ralph waited patiently, his heart beginning to quicken. This was a great +matter.</p> + +<p>“I wish you to go to him,” said his master, “and to get him into talk. +But I do not see how it can be managed.”</p> + +<p>“He knows I am in your service, sir,” suggested Ralph.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” said Cromwell a little impatiently, “that is it. He is no +fool, and will not talk. This is what I thought of. That you should go +to him from me, and feign that you are on his side in the matter. But +will he believe that?” he ended gloomily, looking at the other +curiously.</p> + +<p>There was silence for a minute, while Cromwell drummed his fingers +softly on the table. Then presently Ralph spoke.</p> + +<p>“There is this, sir,” he said. “I might speak to him about my brother +Chris who, as I told you, has gone to Lewes at the Maid’s advice, and +then see what Master More has to say.”</p> + +<p>Cromwell still looked at him.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, “that seems reasonable. And for the rest—well, I will +leave that in your hands.”</p> + +<p>They talked a few minutes longer about Sir Thomas More, and Cromwell +told the other what a quiet life the ex-Chancellor had led since his +resignation of office, of his house at Chelsea, and the like, and of the +decision that he had apparently come to not to mix any further in public +affairs.</p> + +<p>“There is thunder in the air,” he said, “as you know very well, and +Master More is no mean weather-prophet. He mis-liked the matter of the +Lady Katharine, and Queen Anne is no friend of his. I think he is wise +to be quiet.”</p> + +<p>Ralph knew perfectly well that this tolerant language did not represent +Cromwell’s true attitude towards the man of whom they were speaking, but +he assented to all that was said, and added a word or two about Sir +Thomas More’s learning, and of the pleasant manner in which he himself +had been received when he had once had had occasion to see him before.</p> + +<p>“He was throwing Horace at me,” said the other, with a touch of +bitterness, “the last time that I was there. I do not know which he +loves best, that or his prayers.”</p> + +<p>Again Ralph recognised an animus. Cromwell had suffered somewhat from +lack of a classical education.</p> + +<p>“But it is a good thing to love the classics and devotion,” he went on +presently with a sententious air, “they are solaces in time of trouble. +I have found that myself.”</p> + +<p>He glanced up at the other and down again.</p> + +<p>“I was caught saying our Lady matins one day,” he said, “when the +Cardinal was in trouble. I remember I was very devout that morning.”</p> + +<p>He went on to talk of Wolsey and of his relations with him, and Ralph +watched that heavy smooth face become reminiscent and almost +sentimental.</p> + +<p>“If he had but been wiser;” he said. “I have noticed again and again the +folly of wise men. There is always clay mixed with gold. I suppose +nothing but the fire that Frith denied can purge it out; and my lord’s +was ambition.”</p> + +<p>He wagged his head in solemn reprobation, and Ralph did not know whether +to laugh or to look grave. Then there fell a long silence, and Cromwell +again fell to fingering his signet-ring, taking it off his thumb and +rolling it on the smooth oak, and at last stood up with a brisker air.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “I have a thousand affairs, and my son Gregory is +coming here soon. Then you will see about that matter. Remember I wish +to know what Master More thinks of her, that—that I may know what to +think.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Ralph understood sufficiently clearly, as he walked home in the evening +light, what it was that his master wanted. It was no less than to catch +some handle against the ex-chancellor, though he had carefully abstained +from saying so. Ralph recognised the adroitness, and saw that while the +directions had been plain and easy to understand, yet that not one word +had been spoken that could by any means be used as a handle against +Cromwell. If anyone in England at that time knew how to wield speech it +was his master; it was by that weapon that he had prevailed with the +King, and still kept him in check; it was that weapon rashly used by his +enemies that he was continually turning against them, and under his +tutoring Ralph himself had begun to be practised in the same art.</p> + +<p>Among other causes, too, of his admiration for Cromwell, was the +latter’s extraordinary business capacity. There was hardly an affair of +any importance in which he did not have a finger at least, and most of +them he held in the palm of his hand, and that, not only in the mass but +in their minutest details. Ralph had marvelled more than once at the +minutiæ that he had seen dotted down on the backs of old letters lying +on his master’s table. Matters of Church and State, inextricably +confused to other eyes, were simple to this man; he understood +intuitively where the key of each situation lay, and dealt with them one +after another briefly and effectively. And yet with all this no man wore +an appearance of greater leisure; he would gossip harmlessly for an +hour, and yet by the end had said all that he wished to say, and +generally learnt, too, from his companion whoever he might be, all he +wished to learn. Ralph had watched him more than once at this business; +had seen delicate subjects introduced in a deft unsuspicious sentence +that roused no alarm, and had marvelled at his power to play with men +without their dreaming of what was going forward.</p> + +<p>And now it was Master More that was threatened. Ralph knew well that +there was far more behind the scenes than he could understand or even +perceive, and recognised that the position of Sir Thomas was more +significant than would appear, and that developments might be expected +to follow soon.</p> + +<p>For himself he had no shrinking from his task. He understood that +government was carried on by such methods, and that More himself would +be the first to acknowledge that in war many things were permissible +that would be outrageous in times of peace, and that these were times of +war. To call upon a friend, to eat his bread and salt, and talk +familiarly with him, and to be on the watch all the while for a weak +spot through which that friend might be wounded, seemed to Ralph, +trained now and perfected in Cromwell’s school, a perfectly legitimate +policy, and he walked homewards this summer evening, pleased with this +new mark of confidence, and anxious to acquit himself well in his task.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The house that Ralph occupied in Westminster was in a street to the west +of the Abbey, and stood back a little between its neighbours. It was a +very small one, of only two rooms in width and one in depth, and three +stories high; but it had been well furnished, chiefly with things +brought up from Overfield Court, to which Ralph had taken a fancy, and +which his father had not denied him. He lived almost entirely in the +first floor, his bedroom and sitting-room being divided by the narrow +landing at the head of the stairs that led up to the storey above, which +was occupied by Mr. Morris and a couple of other servants. The lower +storey Ralph used chiefly for purposes of business, and for interviews +which were sufficiently numerous for one engaged in so many affairs. +Cromwell had learnt by now that he could be trusted to say little and to +learn much, and the early acts of many little dramas that had ended in +tragedy had been performed in the two gravely-furnished rooms on the +ground floor. A good deal of the law-business, in its early stages, +connected with the annulling of the King’s marriage with Queen Katharine +had been done there; a great canonist from a foreign university had +explained there his views in broken English, helped out with Latin, to a +couple of shrewd-faced men, while Ralph watched the case for his master; +and Cromwell himself had found the little retired house a convenience +for meeting with persons whom he did not wish to frighten over much, +while Ralph and Mr. Morris sat alert and expectant on the other side of +the hall, with the door open, listening for raised voices or other signs +of a quarrel.</p> + +<p>The rooms upstairs had been furnished with considerable care. The floors +of both were matted, for the plan involved less trouble than the +continual laying of clean rushes. The sitting-room was panelled up six +feet from the floor, and the three feet of wall above were covered with +really beautiful tapestry that Ralph had brought up from Overfield. +There was a great table in the centre, along one side of which rested a +set of drawers with brass handles, and in the centre of the table was a +deep well, covered by a flap that lay level with the rest of the top. +Another table stood against the wall, on which his meals were served, +and the door of a cupboard in which his plate and knives were kept +opened immediately above it, designed in the thickness of the wall. +There were half-a-dozen chairs, two or three other pieces of furniture, +a backed settle by the fire and a row of bookshelves opposite the +windows; and over the mantelpiece, against the tapestry, hung a picture +of Cromwell, painted by Holbein, and rejected by him before it was +finished. Ralph had begged it from the artist who was on the point of +destroying it. It represented the sitter’s head and shoulders in +three-quarter face, showing his short hair, his shrewd heavy face, with +its double chin, and the furred gown below.</p> + +<p>Mr. Morris was ready for his master and opened the door to him.</p> + +<p>“There are some letters come, Mr. Ralph, sir,” he said. “I have laid +them on your table.”</p> + +<p>Ralph nodded, slipped off his thin cloak into his servant’s hands +without speaking, laid down his cane and went upstairs.</p> + +<p>The letters were very much what he expected, and dealt with cases on +which he was engaged. There was an entreaty from a country squire near +Epping Forest, whose hounds had got into trouble with the King’s +foresters that he would intercede for him to Cromwell. A begging letter +from a monk who had been ejected from his monastery for repeated +misconduct, and who represented himself as starving; Ralph lifted this +to his nostrils and it smelt powerfully of spirits, and he laid it down +again, smiling to himself. A torrent of explanation from a schoolmaster +who had been reported for speaking against the sacrament of the altar, +calling the saints to witness that he was no follower of Frith in such +detestable heresy. A dignified protest from a Justice of the Peace in +Kent who had been reproved by Cromwell, through Ralph’s agency, for +acquitting a sturdy beggar, and who begged that he might in future deal +with a responsible person; and this Ralph laid aside, smiling again and +promising himself that he would have the pleasure of granting the +request. An offer, written in a clerkly hand, from a fellow who could +not sign his name but had appended a cross, to submit some important +evidence of a treasonable plot, on the consideration of secrecy and a +suitable reward.</p> + +<p>A year ago such a budget would have given Ralph considerable pleasure, +and a sense of his own importance; but business had been growing on him +rapidly of late, as his master perceived his competence, and it gave him +no thrill to docket this one, write a refusal to that, a guarded answer +to another, and finally to open the well of his table and drop the +bundle in.</p> + +<p>Then he turned round his chair, blew out one candle carefully, and set +to thinking about Master Thomas More.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br><span class="small">MASTER MORE</span></h2></div> + + +<p>It was not until nearly a month later that Ralph made an opportunity to +call upon Sir Thomas More. Cromwell had given him to understand that +there was no immediate reason for haste; his own time was tolerably +occupied, and he thought it as well not to make a show of over-great +hurry. He wrote to Sir Thomas, explaining that he wished to see him on a +matter connected with his brother Christopher, and received a courteous +reply begging him to come to dinner on the following Thursday, the +octave of the Assumption, as Sir Thomas thought it proper to add.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was a wonderfully pleasant house, Ralph thought, as his wherry came +up to the foot of the garden stairs that led down from the lawn to the +river. It stood well back in its own grounds, divided from the river by +a wall with a wicket gate in it. There was a little grove of trees on +either side of it; a flock of pigeons were wheeling about the +bell-turret that rose into the clear blue sky, and from which came a +stroke or two, announcing the approach of dinner-time as he went up the +steps.</p> + +<p>There was a figure lying on its face in the shadow by the house, as +Ralph came up the path, and a small dog, that seemed to be trying to dig +the head out from the hands in which it was buried, ceased his +excavations and set up a shrill barking. The figure rolled over, and sat +up; the pleasant brown face was all creased with laughter; small pieces +of grass were clinging to the long hair, and Ralph, to his amazement, +recognised the ex-Lord Chancellor of England.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, sir,” said More, rising and shaking himself. “I had +no idea—you take me at a disadvantage; it is scarcely dignified”—and +he stopped, smiling and holding out one hand, while he stretched the +other deprecatingly, to quiet that insistent barking.</p> + +<p>Ralph had a sensation of mingled contempt and sympathy as he took his +hand.</p> + +<p>“I had the honour of seeing you once before, Master More,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes,” said More, “and I hope I cut a better figure last time, but +Anubis would take no refusal. But I am ashamed, and beg you will not +speak of it to Mrs. More. She is putting on a new coif in your honour.”</p> + +<p>“I will be discreet,” said Ralph, smiling.</p> + +<p>They went indoors almost immediately, when Sir Thomas had flicked the +grass sufficiently off his gown to escape detection, and straight +through to the hall where the table was laid, and three or four girls +were waiting.</p> + +<p>“Your mother is not here yet, I see,” said Sir Thomas, when he had made +Ralph known to his daughters, and the young man had kissed them +deferentially, according to the proper etiquette—“I will tell you +somewhat—hush—” and he broke off again sharply as the door from the +stairs opened, and a stately lady, with a rather solemn and +uninteresting face, sailed in, her silk skirts rustling behind her, and +her fresh coif stiff and white on her head. A middle-aged man followed +her in, looking a little dejected, and made straight across to where the +ladies were standing with an eagerness that seemed to hint at a sense of +escape.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Alice,” said Sir Thomas, “this is Mr. Ralph Torridon, of whom you +have heard me speak. I was fortunate enough to welcome him on the lawn +just now.”</p> + +<p>“I saw you, Mr. More,” said his wife with dignity, as she took Ralph’s +hand and said a word about the weather.</p> + +<p>“Then I will confess,” said Sir Thomas, smiling genially round, “I +welcomed Mr. Torridon with the back of my head, and with Anubis biting +my ears.”</p> + +<p>Ralph felt strangely drawn to this schoolboy kind of man, who romped +with dogs and lay on his stomach, and was so charmingly afraid of his +wife. His contempt began to melt as he looked at him and saw those wise +twinkling eyes, and strong humorous mouth, and remembered once more who +he was, and his reputation.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas said grace with great gravity and signed himself reverently +before he sat down. There was a little reading first of the Scriptures +and a commentary on it, and then as dinner went on Ralph began to attend +less and less to his hostess, who, indeed appeared wholly absorbed in +domestic details of the table and with whispering severely to the +servants behind her hand, and to listen and look towards the further end +where Sir Thomas sat in his tall chair, his flapped cap on his head, and +talked to his daughters on either side. Mr. Roper, the man who had come +in with Mrs. More, was sitting opposite Ralph, and seemed to be chiefly +occupied in listening too. A bright-looking tall girl, whom her father +had introduced by the name of Cecily, sat between Ralph and her father.</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” cried Sir Thomas, in answer to something that Ralph did +not catch, “nothing of the kind! It was Juno that screamed. Argus would +not condescend to it. He was occupied in dancing before the bantams.”</p> + +<p>Ralph lost one of the few remarks that Mrs. More addressed to him, in +wondering what this meant, and the conversation at the other end swept +round a corner while he was apologising. When he again caught the +current Sir Thomas was speaking of wherries.</p> + +<p>“I would love to row a wherry,” he said. “The fellows do not know their +fortune; they might lead such sweet meditative lives; they do not, I am +well aware, for I have never heard such blasphemy as I have heard from +wherrymen. But what opportunities are theirs! If I were not your father, +my darling, I would be a wherryman. <i>Si cognovisses et tu quae ad pacem +tibi</i>! Mr. Torridon, would you not be a wherryman if you were not Mr. +Torridon?”</p> + +<p>“I thought not this morning,” said Ralph, “as I came here. It seemed hot +rowing against the stream.”</p> + +<p>“It is part of the day’s work,” said More. “When I was Chancellor I +loved nothing more than a hot summer’s day in Court, for I thought of my +cool garden where I should soon be walking. I must show you the New +Building after dinner, Mr. Torridon.”</p> + +<p>Cecily and Margaret presently had a short encounter across the table on +some subject that Ralph did not catch, but he saw Margaret on the other +side flush up and bring her lips sharply together. Sir Thomas leapt into +the breach.</p> + +<p>“<i>Unde leves animae tanto caluere furore?</i>” he cried, and glanced up at +Ralph to see if he understood the quotation, as the two girls dropped +their eyes ashamed.</p> + +<p>“<i>Pugnavare pares, succubuere pares</i>,” said Ralph by a flash of +inspiration, and looking at the girls.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas’s eyes shone with pleasure.</p> + +<p>“I did not know you were such a treasure, Mr. Torridon. Now, Master +Cromwell could not have done that.”</p> + +<p>There fell a silence as that name was spoken, and all at the table eyed +Ralph.</p> + +<p>“He was saying as much to me the other day,” went on Ralph, excited by +his success. “He told me you knew Horace too well.”</p> + +<p>“And that my morals were corrupted by him,” went on More. “I know he +thinks that, but I had the honour of confuting him the other day with +regard to the flagon and gloves. Now, there is a subject for Martial, +Mr. Torridon. A corrupt statesman who has retired on his ill-gotten +gains disproves an accusation of bribery. Let us call him Atticus +‘Attice ... Attice’ ...—We might say that he put on the gloves lest his +forgers should be soiled while he drank from the flagon, or something of +the kind.”</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas’s eyes beamed with delight as he talked. To make an apt +classical quotation was like wine to him, but to have it capped +appropriately was like drunkenness. Ralph blessed his stars that he had +been so lucky, for he was no great scholar, and he guessed he had won +his host’s confidence.</p> + +<p>Dinner passed on quietly, and as they rose from table More came round +and took his guest by the arm.</p> + +<p>“You must come with me and see my New Building,” he said, “you are +worthy of it, Mr. Torridon.”</p> + +<p>He still held his arm affectionately as they walked out into the garden +behind the house, and as he discoursed on the joys of a country life.</p> + +<p>“What more can I ask of God?” he said. “He has given me means and tastes +to correspond, and what man can say more. I see visions, and am able to +make them realities. I dream of a dovecote with a tiled roof, and +straightway build it; I picture a gallery and a chapel and a library +away from the clack of tongues, and behold there it is. The eye cannot +say to the hand, ‘I have no need of thee.’ To see and dream without the +power of performance is heart-breaking. To perform without the gift of +imagination is soul-slaying. The man is blessed that hath both eye and +hand, tastes and means alike.”</p> + +<p>It was a very pleasant retreat that Sir Thomas More had built for +himself at the end of his garden, where he might retire when he wanted +solitude. There was a little entrance hall with a door at one corner +into the chapel, and a long low gallery running out from it, lined with +bookshelves on one side, and with an open space on the other lighted by +square windows looking into the garden. The polished boards were bare, +and there was a path marked on them by footsteps going from end to end.</p> + +<p>“Here I walk,” said More, “and my friends look at me from those shelves, +ready to converse but never to interrupt. Shall we walk here, Mr. +Torridon, while you tell me your business?”</p> + +<p>Ralph had, indeed, a touch of scrupulousness as he thought of his host’s +confidence, but he had learnt the habit of silencing impulses and of +only acting on plans deliberately formed; so he was soon laying bare his +anxiety about Chris, and his fear that he had been misled by the Holy +Maid.</p> + +<p>“I am very willing, Mr. More,” he said, “that my brother should be a +monk if it is right, but I could not bear he should be so against God’s +leading. How am I to know whether the maid’s words are of God or no?”</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas was silent a moment.</p> + +<p>“But he had thoughts of it before, I suppose,” he said, “or he would not +have gone to her. In fact, you said so.”</p> + +<p>Ralph acknowledged that this was so.</p> + +<p>“—And for several years,” went on the other.</p> + +<p>Again Ralph assented.</p> + +<p>“And his tastes and habits are those of a monk, I suppose. He is long +at his prayers, given to silence, and of a tranquil spirit?”</p> + +<p>“He is not always tranquil,” said Ralph. “He is impertinent sometimes.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes; we all are that. I was very impertinent to you at dinner in +trying to catch you with Martial his epigram, though I shall not offend +again. But his humour may be generally tranquil in spite of it. Well, if +that is so, I do not see why you need trouble about the Holy Maid. He +would likely have been a monk without that. She only confirmed him.”</p> + +<p>“But,” went on Ralph, fighting to get back to the point, “if I thought +she was trustworthy I should be the more happy.”</p> + +<p>“There must always be doubtfulness,” said More, “in such matters. That +is why the novitiate is so severe; it is to show the young men the worst +at once. I do not think you need be unhappy about your brother.”</p> + +<p>“And what is your view about the Holy Maid?” asked Ralph, suddenly +delivering his point.</p> + +<p>More stopped in his walk, cocked his head a little on one side like a +clever dog, and looked at his companion with twinkling eyes.</p> + +<p>“It is a delicate subject,” he said, and went on again.</p> + +<p>“That is what puzzles me,” said Ralph. “Will you not tell me your +opinion, Mr. More?”</p> + +<p>There was again a silence, and they reached the further end of the +gallery and turned again before Sir Thomas answered.</p> + +<p>“If you had not answered me so briskly at dinner, Mr. Torridon, do you +know that I should have suspected you of coming to search me out. But +such a good head, I think, cannot be allied with a bad heart, and I +will tell you.”</p> + +<p>Ralph felt a prick of triumph but none of remorse.</p> + +<p>“I will tell you,” went on More, “and I am sure you will keep it +private. I think the Holy Maid is a good woman who has a maggot.”</p> + +<p>Ralph’s spirits sank again. This was a very non-committing answer.</p> + +<p>“I do not think her a knave as some do, but I think, to refer to what we +said just now, that she has a large and luminous eye, and no hand worth +mentioning. She sees many visions, but few facts. That tale about the +Host being borne by angels from Calais to my mind is nonsense. Almighty +God does not work miracles without reason, and there is none for that. +The blessed sacrament is the same at Dover as at Calais. And a woman who +can dream that can dream anything, for I am sure she did not invent it. +On other matters, therefore, she may be dreaming too, and that is why +once more I tell you that to my mind you can leave her out of your +thoughts with regard to your brother. She is neither prophetess nor +pythoness.”</p> + +<p>This was very unsatisfactory, and Ralph strove to remedy it.</p> + +<p>“And in the matter of the King’s death, Mr. More?” he said.</p> + +<p>Again Sir Thomas stopped in his walk.</p> + +<p>“Do you know, Mr. Torridon, I think we may leave that alone,” he said a +little abruptly. And Ralph sucked in his lip and bit it sharply at the +consciousness of his own folly.</p> + +<p>“I hope your brother will be very happy,” went on the other after a +moment, “and I am sure he will be, if his call is from God, as I think +likely. I was with the Carthusians myself, you know, for four years, +and sometimes I think I should have stayed there. It is a blessed life. +I do not envy many folks, but I do those. To live in the daily +companionship of our blessed Lord and of his saints as those do, and to +know His secrets—<i>secreta Domini</i>—even the secrets of His Passion and +its ineffable joys of pain—that is a very fortunate lot, Mr. Torridon. +I sometimes think that as it was with Christ’s natural body so it is +with His mystical body: there be some members, His hands and feet and +side, through which the nails are thrust, though indeed there is not one +whole spot in His body—<i>inglorius erit inter viros aspectus ejus—nos +putavimus eum quasi leprosum</i>—but those parts of His body that are +especially pained are at once more honourable and more happy than those +that are not. And the monks are those happy members.”</p> + +<p>He was speaking very solemnly, his voice a little tremulous, and his +kindly eyes were cast down, and Ralph watched him sidelong with a little +awe and pity mingled. He seemed so natural too, that Ralph thought that +he must have over-rated his own indiscretion.</p> + +<p>A shadow fell across the door into the garden as they came near it, and +one of the girls appeared in the opening.</p> + +<p>“Why, Meg,” cried her father, “what is it, my darling?”</p> + +<p>“Beatrice has come, sir,” said the girl. “I thought you would wish to +know.”</p> + +<p>More put out his arm and laid it round his daughter’s waist as she +turned with him.</p> + +<p>“Come, Mr. Torridon,” he said, “if you have no more to say, let us go +and see Beatrice.”</p> + +<p>There was a group on the lawn under one of the lime trees, two or three +girls and Mr. Roper, who all rose to their feet as the three came up. +More immediately sat down on the grass, putting his feet delicately +together before him.</p> + +<p>“Will, fetch this gentleman a chair. It is not fit for Master +Cromwell’s friend to sit on the grass like you and me.”</p> + +<p>Ralph threw himself down on the lawn instantly, entreating Mr. Roper not +to move.</p> + +<p>“Well, well,” said Sir Thomas, “let be. Sit down too, Will, <i>et cubito +remanete presso</i>. Mr. Torridon understands that, I know, even if Master +Cromwell’s friend does not. Why, tillie-vallie, as Mrs. More says, I +have not said a word to Beatrice. Beatrice, this is Mr. Ralph Torridon, +and this, Mr. Torridon, is Beatrice. Her other name is Atherton, but to +me she is a feminine benediction, and nought else.”</p> + +<p>Ralph rose swiftly and looked across at a tall slender girl that was +sitting contentedly on an outlying root of the lime tree, beside of Sir +Thomas, and who rose with him.</p> + +<p>“Mr. More cannot let my name alone, Mr. Torridon,” she said tranquilly, +as she drew back after the salute. “He made a play upon it the other +day.”</p> + +<p>“And have been ashamed of it ever since,” said More; “it was sacrilege +with such a name. Now, I am plain Thomas, and more besides. Why did you +send for me, Beatrice?”</p> + +<p>“I have no defence,” said the girl, “save that I wanted to see you.”</p> + +<p>“And that is the prettiest defence you could have made—if it does not +amount to corruption. Mr. Torridon, what is the repartee to that?”</p> + +<p>“I need no advocate,” said the girl; “I can plead well enough.”</p> + +<p>Ralph looked up at her again with a certain interest. She seemed on +marvellously good terms with the whole family, and had an air of being +entirely at her ease. She had her black eyes bent down on to a piece of +grass that she was twisting into a ring between her slender jewelled +fingers, and her white teeth were closed firmly on her lower lip as she +worked. Her long silk skirts lay out unregarded on the grass, and her +buckles gleamed beneath. Her voice was pleasant and rather deep, and +Ralph found himself wondering who she was, and why he had not seen her +before, for she evidently belonged to his class, and London was a small +place.</p> + +<p>“I see you are making one more chain to bind me to you,” said More +presently, watching her.</p> + +<p>She held it up.</p> + +<p>“A ring only,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Then it is not for me,” said More, “for I do not hold with Dr. +Melanchthon, nor yet Solomon in the matter of wives. Now, Mr. Torridon, +tell us all some secrets. Betray your master. We are all agog. Leave off +that ring, Beatrice, and attend.”</p> + +<p>“I am listening,” said the girl as serenely as before, still intent on +her weaving.</p> + +<p>“The King breakfasted this morning at eight of the clock,” said Ralph +gravely. “It is an undoubted fact, I had it on the highest authority.”</p> + +<p>“This is excellent,” said Sir Thomas. “Let us all talk treason. I can +add to that. His Grace had a fall last night and lay senseless for +several hours.”</p> + +<p>He spoke with such gravity that Ralph glanced up. At the same moment +Beatrice looked up from her work and their eyes met.</p> + +<p>“He fell asleep,” added Sir Thomas.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was very pleasant to lie there in the shadow of the lime that +afternoon, and listen to the mild fooling, and Ralph forgot his +manners, and almost his errand too, and never offered to move. The grass +began to turn golden as the sun slanted to the West, and the birds began +to stir after the heat of the day, and to chirp from tree to tree. A +hundred yards away the river twinkled in the sun, seen beyond the trees +and the house, and the voices of the boatmen came, softened by distance +and water, as they plied up and down the flowing highway. Once a barge +went past under the Battersea bank, with music playing in the stern, and +Ralph raised himself on his elbow to watch it as it went down the stream +with flags flying behind, and the rhythmical throb of the row-locks +sounding time to the dancing melody.</p> + +<p>Ralph did his best to fall in with the humour of the day, and told a +good story or two in his slow voice—among them one of his mother +exercising her gift of impressive silence towards a tiresome chatterbox +of a man, with such effect that the conversationalist’s words died on +his lips, after the third or fourth pause made for applause and comment. +He told the story well, and Lady Torridon seemed to move among them, her +skirts dragging majestically on the grass, and her steady, sombre face +looking down on them all beneath half-closed languid eye-lids.</p> + +<p>“He has never been near us again,” said Ralph, “but he never fails to +ask after my mother’s distressing illness when I meet him in town.”</p> + +<p>He was a little astonished at himself as he talked, for he was not +accustomed to take such pains to please, but he was conscious that +though he looked round at the faces, and addressed himself to More, he +was really watching for the effect on the girl who sat behind. He was +aware of every movement that she made; he knew when she tossed the ring +on the little sleeping brown body of the dog that had barked at him +earlier in the day, and set to work upon another. She slipped that on +her finger when she had done, and turned her hand this way and that, her +fingers bent back, a ruby catching the light as she did so, looking at +the effect of the green circle against the whiteness. But he never +looked at her again, except once when she asked him some question, and +then he looked her straight in her black eyes as he answered.</p> + +<p>A bell sounded out at last again from the tower, and startled him. He +got up quickly.</p> + +<p>“I am ashamed,” he said smiling, “how dare I stay so long? It is your +kindness, Mr. More.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, nay,” said Sir Thomas, rising too and stretching himself. “You +have helped us to lose another day in the pleasantest manner +possible—you must come again, Mr. Torridon.”</p> + +<p>He walked down with Ralph to the garden steps, and stood by him talking, +while the wherry that had been hailed from the other side made its way +across.</p> + +<p>“Beatrice is like one of my own daughters,” he said, “and I cannot give +her better praise than that. She is always here, and always as you saw +her to-day. I think she is one of the strongest spirits I know. What did +you think of her, Mr. Torridon?”</p> + +<p>“She did not talk much,” said Ralph.</p> + +<p>“She talks when she has aught to say,” went on More, “and otherwise is +silent. It is a good rule, sir; I would I observed it myself.”</p> + +<p>“Who is she?” asked Ralph.</p> + +<p>“She is the daughter of a friend I had, and she lives just now with my +wife’s sisters, Nan and Fan. She is often in town with one of them. I am +astonished you have not met her before.”</p> + +<p>The wherry slid up to the steps and the man in his great boots slipped +over the side to steady it.</p> + +<p>“Now is the time to begin your philosophy,” said More as Ralph stepped +in, “and a Socrates is ready. Talk it over, Mr. Torridon.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br><span class="small">RALPH’S INTERCESSION</span></h2></div> + + +<p>Ralph was astonished to find how the thought of the tall girl he had met +at Sir Thomas More’s house remained with him. He had reported the result +of his interview with More himself to his master; and Cromwell had +received it rather coldly. He had sniffed once or twice.</p> + +<p>“That was not very well done, Mr. Torridon. I fear that you have +frightened him, and gained nothing by it.”</p> + +<p>Ralph stood silent.</p> + +<p>“But I see you make no excuses,” went on Cromwell, “so I will make them +for you. I daresay he was frightened already; and knew all about what +had passed between her and the Archbishop. You must try again, sir.”</p> + +<p>Ralph felt his heart stir with pleasure.</p> + +<p>“I may say I have made friends with Mr. More, sir,” he said. “I had good +fortune in the matter of a quotation, and he received me kindly. I can +go there again without excusing my presence, as often as you will.”</p> + +<p>Cromwell looked at him.</p> + +<p>“There is not much to be gained now,” he said, “but you can go if you +will; and you may perhaps pick up something here and there. The more +friends you make the better.”</p> + +<p>Ralph went away delighted; he had not wholly failed then in his master’s +business, and he seemed to have set on foot a business of his own; and +he contemplated with some excitement his future visits to Chelsea.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He had his first word with the King a couple of months later. He had +often, of course, seen him before, once or twice in the House of Lords, +formidable and frowning on his throne, his gross chin on his hand, +barking out a word or two to his subjects, or instructing them in +theology, for which indeed he was very competent; and several times in +processions, riding among his gentlemen on his great horse, splendid in +velvet and gems; and he had always wondered what it was that gave him +his power. It could not be mere despotism, he thought, or his burly +English nature; and it was not until he had seen him near at hand, and +come within range of his personality that he understood why it was that +men bore such things from him.</p> + +<p>He was sent for one afternoon by Cromwell to bring a paper and was taken +up at once by a servant into the gallery where the minister and the King +were walking together. They were at the further end from that at which +he entered, and he stood, a little nervous at his heart, but with his +usual appearance of self-possession, watching the two great backs turned +to him, and waiting to be called.</p> + +<p>They turned again in a moment, and Cromwell saw him and beckoned, +himself coming a few steps to meet him. The King waited, and Ralph was +aware of, rather than saw, that wide, coarse, strong face, and the long +narrow eyes, with the feathered cap atop, and the rich jewelled dress +beneath. The King stood with his hands behind his back and his legs well +apart.</p> + +<p>Cromwell took the paper from Ralph, who stepped back, hesitating what to +do.</p> + +<p>“This is it, your Grace,” said the minister going back again. “Your +Grace will see that it is as I said.”</p> + +<p>Ralph perceived a new tone of deference in his master’s voice that he +had never noticed before, except once when Cromwell was ironically +bullying a culprit who was giving trouble.</p> + +<p>The King said nothing, took the paper and glanced over it, standing a +little aside to let the light fall on it.</p> + +<p>“Your Grace will understand—” began Cromwell again.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, yes,” said the harsh voice impatiently. “Let the fellow take +it back,” and he thrust the paper into Cromwell’s hand, who turned once +more to Ralph.</p> + +<p>“Who is he?” said the King. “I have seen his face. Who are you?”</p> + +<p>“This is Mr. Ralph Torridon,” said Cromwell; “a very useful friend to +me, your Grace.”</p> + +<p>“The Torridons of Overfield?” questioned Henry once more, who never +forgot a face or a name.</p> + +<p>“Yes, your Grace,” said Cromwell.</p> + +<p>“You are tall enough, sir,” said the King, running his narrow eyes up +and down Ralph’s figure;—“a strong friend.”</p> + +<p>“I hope so, your Grace,” said Ralph.</p> + +<p>The King again looked at him, and Ralph dropped his eyes in the glare of +that mighty personality. Then Henry abruptly thrust out his hand to be +kissed, and as Ralph bent over it he was aware of the thick straight +fingers, the creased wrist, and the growth of hair on the back of the +hand.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Ralph was astonished, and a little ashamed at his own excitement as he +passed down the stairs again. It was so little that had happened; his +own part had been so insignificant; and yet he was tingling from head to +foot. He felt he knew now a little better how it was that the King’s +will, however outrageous in its purposes, was done so quickly. It was +the sheer natural genius of authority and royalty that forced it +through; he had felt himself dominated and subdued in those few moments, +so that he was not his own master. As he went home through the street or +two that separated the Palace gate from his own house, he found himself +analysing the effect of that presence, and, in spite of its repellence, +its suggestion of coarseness, and its almost irritating imperiousness, +he was conscious that there was a very strong element of attractiveness +in it too. It seemed to him the kind of attractiveness that there is for +a beaten dog in the chastising hand: the personality was so overwhelming +that it compelled allegiance, and that not wholly one of fear. He found +himself thinking of Queen Katharine and understanding a little better +how it was that the refined, delicately nurtured and devout woman, so +constant in her prayers, so full of the peculiar fineness of character +that gentle birth and religion alone confer, could so cling to this +fierce lord of hers, throw herself at his feet with tears before all the +company, and entreat not to be separated from him, calling him her “dear +lord,” her “love,” and her most “merciful and gracious prince.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The transition from this train of thought to that bearing on Beatrice +was not a difficult one; for the memory of the girl was continually in +his mind. He had seen her half a dozen times now since their first +meeting; for he had availed himself to the full of Cromwell’s +encouragement to make himself at home at Chelsea; and he found that his +interest in her deepened every time. With a touch of amusement he found +himself studying Horace and Terence again, not only for Sir Thomas +More’s benefit, but in order to win his approval and his good report to +his household, among whom Beatrice was practically to be reckoned.</p> + +<p>He was pleased too by More’s account of Beatrice.</p> + +<p>“She is nearly as good a scholar as my dear Meg,” he had said one day. +“Try her, Mr. Torridon.”</p> + +<p>Ralph had carefully prepared an apt quotation that day, and fired it off +presently, not at Beatrice, but, as it were, across her; but there was +not the faintest response or the quiver of an eyelid.</p> + +<p>There was silence a moment; and then Sir Thomas burst out—</p> + +<p>“You need not look so demure, my child; we all know that you +understand.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice had given him a look of tranquil amusement in return.</p> + +<p>“I will not be made a show of,” she said.</p> + +<p>Ralph went away that day more engrossed than ever. He began to ask +himself where his interest in her would end; and wondered at its +intensity.</p> + +<p>As he questioned himself about it, it seemed that to him it was to a +great extent her appearance of detached self-possession that attracted +him. It was the quality that he most desired for himself, and one which +he had in measure attained; but he was aware that in the presence of +Cromwell at least it deserted him. He knew well that he had found his +master there, and that he himself was nothing more than a +hero-worshipper before a shrine; but it provoked him to feel that there +was no one who seemed to occupy the place of a similar divinity with +regard to this girl. Obviously she admired and loved Sir Thomas +More—Ralph soon found out how deeply in the course of his visits—but +she was not in the least afraid of her friend. She serenely contradicted +him when she disagreed with what he said, would fail to keep her +appointments at his house with the same equanimity, and in spite of Sir +Thomas’s personality never appeared to give him more than a friendly and +affectionate homage. With regard to Ralph himself, it was the same. She +was not in the least awed by him, or apparently impressed by his +reputation which at this time was growing rapidly as that of a capable +and daring agent of Cromwell’s; and even once or twice when he +condescended to hint at the vastness of the affairs on which he was +engaged, in a desperate endeavour to rouse her admiration, she only +looked at him steadily a moment with very penetrating eyes, and began to +speak of something else. He began to feel discouraged.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The first hint that Ralph had that he had been making a mistake in his +estimate of her, came from Margaret Roper, who was still living at +Chelsea with her husband Will.</p> + +<p>Ralph had walked up to the house one bleak afternoon in early spring +along the river-bank from Westminster, and had found Margaret alone in +the dining-hall, seated by the window with her embroidery in her hand, +and a Terence propped open on the sill to catch the last gleams of light +from the darkening afternoon. She greeted Ralph warmly, for he was a +very familiar figure to them all by now, and soon began to talk, when he +had taken a seat by the wide open fireplace whence the flames flickered +out, casting shadows and lights round the high room, across the +high-hung tapestries and in the gloomy corners.</p> + +<p>“Beatrice is here,” she said presently, “upstairs with father. I think +she is doing some copying for him.”</p> + +<p>“She is a great deal with him,” observed Ralph.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes; father thinks so much of her. He says that none can write so +well as she, or has such a quick brain. And then she does not talk, he +says, nor ask foolish woman-questions like the rest of us.” And Margaret +glanced up a moment, smiling.</p> + +<p>“I suppose I must not go up,” said Ralph, a little peevishly; for he was +tired with his long day.</p> + +<p>“Why, no, you must not,” said Margaret, “but she will be down soon, Mr. +Torridon.”</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment or two; and then Margaret spoke again.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Torridon,” she said, “may I say something?” Ralph made a little +sound of assent. The warmth of the fire was making him sleepy.</p> + +<p>“Well, it is this,” said Margaret slowly, “I think you believe that +Beatrice does not like you. That is not true. She is very fond of you; +she thinks a great deal of you,” she added, rather hastily.</p> + +<p>Ralph sat up; his drowsiness was gone.</p> + +<p>“How do you know that, Mrs. Roper?” he asked. His voice sounded +perfectly natural, and Margaret was reassured at the tone of it. She +could not see Ralph well; it was getting dark now.</p> + +<p>“I know it well,” she said. “Of course we talk of you when you are +gone.”</p> + +<p>“And does Mrs. Beatrice talk of me?”</p> + +<p>“Not so much,” said Margaret, “but she listens very closely; and asks us +questions sometimes.” The girl’s heart was beating with excitement as +she spoke; but she had made up her mind to seek this opportunity. It +seemed a pity, she thought, that two friends of hers should so +misunderstood one another.</p> + +<p>“And what kind of questions?” asked Ralph again.</p> + +<p>“She wonders—what you really think—” went on Margaret slowly, bending +down over her embroidery, and punctuating her words with +stitches—“about—about affairs—and—and she said one day that—”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Ralph in the same tone.</p> + +<p>“That she thought you were not so severe as you seemed,” ended Margaret, +her voice a little tremulous with amusement.</p> + +<p>Ralph sat perfectly still, staring at the great fire-plate on which a +smoky Phoebus in relief drove the chariot of the sun behind the tall +wavering flames that rose from the burning logs. He knew very well why +Margaret had spoken, and that she would not speak without reason; but +the fact revealed was so bewilderingly new to him that he could not take +it in. Margaret looked at him once or twice a little uneasily; and at +last sighed.</p> + +<p>“It is too dark,” she said, “I must fetch candles.”</p> + +<p>She slipped out of the side-door that led to the servants’ quarters, and +Ralph was left alone. All his weariness was gone now; the whirl of +images and schemes with which his brain had been seething as he walked +up the river-bank half-an-hour before, had receded into obscurity; and +one dominating thought filled their place: What if Margaret were right? +And what did he mean to do himself? Surely he was not—</p> + +<p>The door from the entrance passage opened, and a tall slender figure +stood there, now in light, now in shadow, as the flames rose and fell.</p> + +<p>“Meg,” said a voice.</p> + +<p>Ralph sat still a moment longer.</p> + +<p>“Meg,” said Beatrice again, “how dark you are.”</p> + +<p>Ralph stood up.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Roper has just gone,” he said, “you must put up with me, Mrs. +Beatrice.”</p> + +<p>“Who is it?” said the girl advancing. “Mr. Torridon?”</p> + +<p>She had a paper in her hand as she came across the floor, and Ralph drew +out a chair for her on the other side of the hearth.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said. “Mrs. Roper has gone for lights. She will be back +immediately.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice sat down.</p> + +<p>“It is a troublesome word,” she said. “Master More cannot read it +himself, and has sent me to ask Meg. He says that every dutiful daughter +should be able to read her father’s hand.”</p> + +<p>And Ralph could see a faint amused smile in her black eyes, as the +firelight shone on them.</p> + +<p>“Master More always has an escape ready,” he said, as he too sat down.</p> + +<p>The girl’s hand holding the paper suddenly dropped on to her knee, and +the man saw she was looking at him oddly.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” he said interrogatively; and then—</p> + +<p>“Why do you look at me like that, Mrs. Beatrice?”</p> + +<p>“It is what you said. Do you really think that, Mr. Torridon?”</p> + +<p>Ralph was bewildered for a moment.</p> + +<p>“I do not understand,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Do you truly think he always has an escape ready?” repeated the girl.</p> + +<p>Then Ralph understood.</p> + +<p>“You mean he is in danger,” he said steadily. “Well, of course he is. +There is no great man that is not. But I do not see why he should not +escape as he has always done.”</p> + +<p>“You think that, Mr. Torridon?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes;” went on Ralph, a little hastily. “You remember the matter +of the bribe. See how he cleared himself. Surely, Mrs. Beatrice—”</p> + +<p>“And you really think so,” said the girl. “I know that you know what we +do not; and I shall believe what you say.”</p> + +<p>“How can I tell?” remonstrated Ralph. “I can only tell you that in this +matter I know nothing that you do not. Master More is under no +suspicion.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice drew a breath of relief.</p> + +<p>“I am glad I spoke to you, sir,” she said. “It has been on my mind. And +something that he said a few minutes ago frightened me.”</p> + +<p>“What did he say?” asked Ralph curiously.</p> + +<p>“Ah! it was not much. It was that no man knew what might come next; that +matters were very strange and dismaying—and—and that he wanted this +paper copied quickly, for fear—”</p> + +<p>The girl stopped again, abruptly.</p> + +<p>“I know what you feel, Mrs. Beatrice,” said Ralph gently. “I know how +you love Master More, and how terrified we may become for our friends.”</p> + +<p>“What do you think yourself, Mr. Torridon,” she said suddenly, almost +interrupting him.</p> + +<p>He looked at her doubtfully a moment, and half wished that Margaret +would come back.</p> + +<p>“That is a wide question,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Well, you know what I mean,” she said coolly, completely herself again. +She was sitting back in her chair now, drawing the paper serenely to and +fro between her fingers; and he could see the firelight on her chin and +brows, and those steady eyes watching him. He had an impulse of +confidence.</p> + +<p>“I do think changes are coming,” he said. “I suppose we all do.”</p> + +<p>“And you approve?”</p> + +<p>“Oh! how can I say off-hand?—But I think changes are needed.”</p> + +<p>She was looking down at the fire again now, and did not speak for a +moment.</p> + +<p>“Master More said you were of the new school,” she said meditatively.</p> + +<p>Ralph felt a curious thrill of exultation. Margaret was right then; this +girl had been thinking about him.</p> + +<p>“There is certainly a stirring,” he said; and his voice was a little +restrained.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I am not blind or deaf,” said the girl. “Of course, there is a +stirring—but I wondered—”</p> + +<p>Then Margaret came in with the candles.</p> + +<p>Ralph went away that evening more excited than he liked. It seemed as if +Mistress Roper’s words had set light to a fire ready laid, and he could +perceive the warmth beginning to move about his heart and odd wavering +lights flickering on his circumstances and business that had not been +there before.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He received his first letter from Beatrice a few weeks later, and it +threw him into a strait between his personal and official claims.</p> + +<p>Cromwell at this time was exceedingly occupied with quelling the ardour +of the House of Lords, who were requesting that the Holy Maid of Kent +and her companions might have an opportunity of defending themselves +before the Act of Attainder ordered by the King was passed against them; +but he found time to tell his agent that trouble was impending over More +and Fisher; and to request him to hand in any evidence that he might +have against the former.</p> + +<p>“I suppose we shall have to let the Bishop off with a fine,” said the +minister, “in regard to the Maid’s affair; but we shall catch him +presently over the Act; and Mr. More is clear of it. But we shall have +him too in a few days. Put down what you have to say, Mr. Torridon, and +let me have it this evening.”</p> + +<p>And then he rustled off down the staircase to where his carriage was +waiting to take him to Westminster, where he proposed to tell the +scrupulous peers that the King was not accustomed to command twice, and +that to suspect his Grace of wishing them to do an injustice was a piece +of insolence that neither himself nor his royal master had expected of +them.</p> + +<p>Ralph was actually engaged in putting down his very scanty accusations +against Sir Thomas More when the letter from Beatrice was brought up to +him. He read it through twice in silence; and then ordered the courier +to wait below. When the servant had left the room, he read it through a +third time.</p> + +<p>It was not long; but it was pregnant.</p> + +<p>“I entreat you, sir,” wrote the girl, “for the love of Jesu, to let us +know if anything is designed against our friend. Three weeks ago you +told me it was not so; I pray God that may be true still. I know that +you would not lift a finger against him yourself—” (Ralph glanced at +his own neat little list at these words, and bit his pen)—“but I wish +you to do what you can for him and for us all.” Then followed an +erasure.</p> + +<p>Ralph carried the paper to the window, flattened it against the panes +and read clearly the words, “If my” under the scratching lines, and +smiled to himself as he guessed what the sentence was that she was +beginning.</p> + +<p>Then the letter continued.</p> + +<p>“I hear on good authority that there is something against him. He will +not escape; and will do nothing on such hearsay, but only tells us to +trust God, and laughs at us all. Good Mr. Torridon, do what you can. +Your loving friend, B.A.”</p> + +<p>Ralph went back from the window where he was still standing, and sat +down again, bending his head into his hands. He had no sort of scruples +against lying as such or betraying Mr. More’s private conversation; his +whole training was directed against such foolishness, and he had learnt +at last from Cromwell’s incessant precept and example that the good of +the State over-rode all private interests. But he had a disinclination +to lie to Beatrice; and he felt simply unable to lose her friendship by +telling her the truth.</p> + +<p>As he sat there perfectly still, the servant peeped in once softly to +see if the answer was ready, and noiselessly withdrew. Ralph did not +stir; but still sat on, pressing his eyeballs till they ached and fiery +rings twisted before him in the darkness. Then he abruptly sat up, +blinked a moment or two, took up a pen, bit it again, and laid it down +and sat eyeing the two papers that lay side by side on his desk.</p> + +<p>He took up his own list, and read it through. After all, it was very +insignificant, and contained no more than minute scraps of conversation +that Sir Thomas More had let drop. He had called Queen Katharine “poor +woman” three or four times; had expressed a reverence for the Pope of +Rome half a dozen times, and had once called him the Vicar of Christ. He +had been silent when someone had mentioned Anne Boleyn’s name; he had +praised the Carthusians and the Religious Life generally, at some +length.</p> + +<p>They were the kind of remarks that might mean nothing or a great deal; +they were consistent with loyalty; they were not inconsistent with +treason; in fact they were exactly the kind of material out of which +serious accusations might be manufactured by a skilled hand, though as +they stood they proved nothing.</p> + +<p>A further consideration to Ralph was his duty to Cromwell; he scarcely +felt it seemly to lie whole-heartedly to him; and on the other hand he +felt now simply unable to lie to Beatrice. There was only one way out of +it,—to prevaricate to them both.</p> + +<p>He took up his own paper, glanced at it once more; and then with a +slightly dramatic gesture tore it across and across, and threw it on the +ground. Then he took up his pen and wrote to Beatrice.</p> + +<p>“I have only had access to one paper against our friend—that I have +destroyed, though I do not know what Master Cromwell will say. But I +tell you this to show at what a price I value your friendship.</p> + +<p>“Of course our friend is threatened. Who is not in these days? But I +swear to you that I do not know what is the design.”</p> + +<p>He added a word or two more for politeness’ sake, prayed that “God might +have her in His keeping,” and signed himself as she had done, her +“loving friend.”</p> + +<p>Then he dried the ink with his pounce box, sealed the letter with great +care, and took it down to the courier himself.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He faced Cromwell in the evening with a good deal of terror, but with +great adroitness; swore positively that More had said nothing actually +treasonable, and had found, on putting pen to paper, that the +accusations were flimsier than he thought.</p> + +<p>“But it is your business to see that they be not so,” stormed his +master. Ralph paused a moment respectfully.</p> + +<p>“I cannot make a purse out of a sow’s ear, sir. I must have at least +some sort of silk.”</p> + +<p>When Cromwell had ceased to walk up and down, Ralph pointed out with +considerable shrewdness that he did not suppose that his evidence was +going to form the main ground of the attack on More; and that it would +merely weaken the position to bring such feeble arguments to bear.</p> + +<p>“Why he would tear them to shreds, sir, in five minutes; he would make +out that they were our principal grounds—he is a skilled lawyer. If I +may dare to say so, Master Cromwell, let your words against Mr. More be +few and choice.”</p> + +<p>This was bolder speaking than he had ever ventured on before; but +Cromwell was in a good humour. The peers had proved tractable and had +agreed to pass the attainder against Elizabeth Barton without any more +talk of justice and the accused’s right of defence; and he looked now at +Ralph with a grim approval.</p> + +<p>“I believe you are right, Mr. Torridon. I will think over it.”</p> + +<p>A week later the blow fell.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Cromwell looked up at him one Sunday evening as he came into the room, +with his papers, and without any greeting spoke at once.</p> + +<p>“I wish you to go to Lambeth House to-morrow morning early, Mr. +Torridon. Master More is to be there to have the Oath of Succession +tendered to him with the others. Do your best to persuade him to take +it; be his true friend.”</p> + +<p>A little grim amusement shone in his eyes as he spoke. Ralph looked at +him a moment.</p> + +<p>“I mean it, Mr. Torridon: do your best. I wish him to think you his +friend.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>As Ralph went across the Thames in a wherry the following morning, he +was still thinking out the situation. Apparently Cromwell wished to keep +in friendly touch with More; and this now, of course, was only possible +through Ralph, and would have been impossible if the latter’s evidence +had been used, or were going to be used. It was a relief to him to know +that the consummation of his treachery was postponed at least for the +present; (but he would not have called it treachery).</p> + +<p>As Lambeth towers began to loom ahead, Ralph took out Beatrice’s letter +that had come in answer to his own a few days before, and ran his eyes +over it. It was a line of passionate thanks and blessing. Surely he had +reached her hidden heart at last. He put the letter back in his inner +pocket, just before he stepped ashore. It no doubt would be a useful +evidence of his own sincerity in his interview with More.</p> + +<p>There was a great crowd in the court as he passed through, for many were +being called to take the oath, which, however, was not made strictly +legal until the following Second Act in the autumn. Several carriages +were drawn up near the house door, and among them Ralph recognised the +liveries of his master and of Lord Chancellor Audley. A number of horses +and mules too were tethered to rings in the wall on the other side with +grooms beside them, and ecclesiastics and secretaries were coming and +going, disputing in groups, calling to one another, in the pleasant +April sunshine.</p> + +<p>On enquiry he found that the Commissioners were sitting in one of the +downstair parlours; but one of Cromwell’s servants at the door told him +that he was not to go in there, but that Mr. More was upstairs by +himself, and that if he pleased he would show him the way.</p> + +<p>It was an old room looking on to the garden, scantily furnished, with a +patch of carpet by the window and a table and chair set upon it. More +turned round from the window-seat on which he was kneeling to look out, +and smiled genially as Ralph heard the servant close the door.</p> + +<p>“Why, Mr. Torridon, are you in trouble too? This is the detention-room +whither I am sent to consider myself.”</p> + +<p>He led Ralph, still holding his hand, to the window-seat, where he +leaned again looking eagerly into the garden.</p> + +<p>“There go the good boys,” he said, “to and fro in the playground; and +here sit I. I suppose I have nothing but the rod to look for.”</p> + +<p>Ralph felt a little awkward in the presence of this gaiety; and for a +minute or two leaned out beside More, staring mechanically at the +figures that passed up and down. He had expected almost to find him at +his prayers, or at least thoughtfully considering himself.</p> + +<p>More commented agreeably on the passers-by.</p> + +<p>“Dr. Wilson was here a moment ago; but he is off now, with a man on +either side. He too is a naughty fellow like myself, and will not listen +to reason. There is the Vicar of Croydon, good man, coming out of the +buttery wiping his mouth.”</p> + +<p>Ralph looked down at the priest’s flushed excited face; he was talking +with a kind of reckless gaiety to a friend who walked beside him.</p> + +<p>“He was sad enough just now,” went on the other, “while he was still +obstinate; but his master hath patted him on the head now and given him +cake and wine. He was calling out for a drink just now (which he hath +got, I see) either for gladness or for dryness, or else that we might +know <i>quod ille notus erat pontifici</i>.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Latimer passed presently, his arms on either side flung round a +priest’s neck; he too was talking volubly and laughing; and the skirts +of his habit wagged behind him.</p> + +<p>“He is in high feather,” said More, “and I have no doubt that his +conscience is as clear as his eyes. Come, Mr. Torridon; sit you down. +What have you come for?”</p> + +<p>Ralph sat back on the window-seat with his back to the light, and his +hat between his knees.</p> + +<p>“I came to see you, sir; I have not been to the Commissioners. I heard +you were here.”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes,” said More, “here I am.”</p> + +<p>“I came to see if I could be of any use to you, Master More; I know a +friend’s face is a good councillor sometimes, even though that friend be +a fool.”</p> + +<p>More patted him softly on the knee.</p> + +<p>“No fool,” he said, “far from it.”</p> + +<p>He looked at him so oddly that Ralph feared that he suspected him; so he +made haste to bring out Beatrice’s letter.</p> + +<p>“Mistress Atherton has written me this,” he said. “I was able to do her +a little service—at least I thought it so then.”</p> + +<p>More took the letter and glanced at it.</p> + +<p>“A very pretty letter,” he said, “and why do you show it me?”</p> + +<p>Ralph looked at him steadily.</p> + +<p>“Because I am Master Cromwell’s servant; and you never forget it.”</p> + +<p>More burst into a fit of laughter; and then took Ralph kindly by the +hand.</p> + +<p>“You are either very innocent or very deep,” he said. “And what have you +come to ask me?”</p> + +<p>“I have come to ask nothing, Master More,” said Ralph indignantly, +withdrawing his hand—“except to be of service to you.”</p> + +<p>“To talk about the oath,” corrected the other placidly. “Very well then. +Do you begin, Mr. Torridon.”</p> + +<p>Ralph made a great effort, for he was sorely perplexed by Sir Thomas’ +attitude, and began to talk, putting all the reasons forward that he +could think of for the accepting of the oath. He pointed out that +government and allegiance would be impossible things if every man had to +examine for himself the claims of his rulers; when vexed and elaborate +questions arose—and this certainly was one such—was it not safer to +follow the decrees of the King and Parliament, rather than to take up a +position of private judgment, and decide upon details of which a subject +could have no knowledge? How, too, could More, under the circumstances, +take upon himself to condemn those who had subscribed the oath?—he +named a few eminent prelates, the Abbot of Westminster and others.</p> + +<p>“I do not condemn them,” put in More, who was looking interested.</p> + +<p>“Then you are uncertain of the matter?” went on Ralph who had thought +out his line of argument with some care.</p> + +<p>More assented.</p> + +<p>“But your duty to the King’s grace is certain; therefore it should +outweigh a thing that is doubtful.”</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas sucked in his lower lip, and stared gravely on the young +man.</p> + +<p>“You are very shrewd, sir,” he said. “I do not know how to answer that +at this moment; but I have no reasonable doubt but that there is an +answer.”</p> + +<p>Ralph was delighted with his advantage, and pursued it eagerly; and +after a few minutes had won from More an acknowledgment that he might be +willing to consider the taking of the oath itself; it was the other +clauses that touched his conscience more. He could swear to be loyal to +Anne’s children; but he could not assent to the denunciation of the Pope +contained in the preamble of the Act, and the oath would commit him to +that.</p> + +<p>“But you will tell that to the Commissioners, sir?” asked Ralph eagerly.</p> + +<p>“I will tell them all that I have told you,” said More smiling.</p> + +<p>Ralph himself was somewhat doubtful as to whether the concession would +be accepted; but he professed great confidence, and secretly +congratulated himself with having made so much way. But presently a +remark of More’s showed that he appreciated the situation.</p> + +<p>“I am very grateful to you, Mr. Torridon, for coming and talking to me; +and I shall tell my wife and children so. But it is of no use. They are +resolved to catch me. First there was the bribe; then the matter of the +Maid; then this; and if I took a hundred oaths they would find one more +that I could not, without losing my soul; and that indeed I do not +propose to do. <i>Quid enim proficit homo?</i>”</p> + +<p>There was a knock at the door a moment later, and a servant came in to +beg Mr. More to come downstairs again; the Commissioners were ready for +him.</p> + +<p>“Then good-day, Mr. Torridon. You will come and see me sometimes, even +if not at Chelsea. Wherever I may be it will be as nigh heaven as +Chelsea.”</p> + +<p>Ralph went down with him, and parted from him at the door of the +Commissioner’s room; and half-an-hour later a message was sent out to +him by Cromwell that he need wait no longer; Mr. More had refused the +oath, and had been handed over to the custody of the Abbot of +Westminster.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br><span class="small">A MERRY PRISONER</span></h2></div> + + +<p>The arrest of Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fisher and their committal to +the Tower a few days later caused nothing less than consternation in +England and of furious indignation on the Continent. It was evident that +greatness would save no man; the best hope lay in obscurity, and men who +had been loud in self-assertion now grew timorous and silent.</p> + +<p>Ralph was now in the thick of events. Besides his connection with More, +he had been present at one of the examinations of the Maid of Kent and +her admirers; had formed one of the congregation at Paul’s Cross when +the confession drawn up for her had been read aloud in her name by Dr. +Capon, who from the pulpit opposite the platform where the penitents +were set, preached a vigorous sermon against credulity and superstition. +Ralph had read the confession over a couple of days before in Cromwell’s +room, and had suggested a few verbal alterations; and he had been +finally present, a few days after More’s arrest, at the last scene of +the drama, when Elizabeth Barton, with six priests, suffered, under the +provisions of an act of attainder, on Tyburn gallows.</p> + +<p>All these events were indications of the course that things were taking +in regard to greater matters. Parliament had now advanced further than +ever in the direction of a breach with Rome, and had transferred the +power of nomination to bishoprics from the Holy See to the Crown, and, +what was at least as significant, had dealt in a similar manner with the +authority over Religious houses.</p> + +<p>On the other side, Rome had declared definitely against the annulling of +Queen Katharine’s marriage, and to this the King had retorted by turning +the pulpits against the Pope, and in the course of this had found +himself compelled to deal sharply with the Franciscans, who were at the +same time the most popular and the most papal of all preachers. In the +following out of this policy, first several notable friars were +imprisoned, and next a couple of subservient Religious, a Dominican and +an Augustinian, were appointed grand visitors of the rebellious Order.</p> + +<p>A cloud of terror now began to brood over the Religious houses in +England, as the news of these proceedings became known, and Ralph had a +piteous letter from his father, entreating him to give some explanation +of the course of affairs so far as was compatible with loyalty to his +master, and at least his advice as to Christopher’s profession.</p> + +<p>“We hear sad tales, dear son,” wrote Sir James, “on all sides are fears, +and no man knows what the end will be. Some even say that the Orders +will be reduced in number. And who knows what may be toward now that the +Bishop and Mr. More are in trouble. I know not what is all this that +Parliament has been doing about the Holy Father his authority; but I am +sure that it cannot be more than what other reigns have brought about in +declaring that the Prince is temporal lord of his land. But, however +that may be, what do you advise that your brother should do? He is to be +professed in August, unless it is prevented, and I dare not put out my +hand to hinder it, until I know more. I do not ask you, dear son, to +tell me what you should not; I know my duty and yours too well for that. +But I entreat you to tell me what you can, that I may not consent to +your brother’s profession if it is better that it should not take place +until affairs are quieter. Your mother would send you her dear love, I +know, if she knew I were writing, but she is in her chamber, and the +messenger must go with this. Jesu have you in His blessed keeping!”</p> + +<p>Ralph wrote back that he knew no reason against Christopher’s +profession, except what might arise from the exposure of the Holy Maid +on whose advice he had gone to Lewes, and that if his father and brother +were satisfied on that score, he hoped that Christopher would follow +God’s leading.</p> + +<p>At the same time that he wrote this he was engaged, under Cromwell’s +directions, in sifting the evidence offered by the grand visitors to +show that the friars refused to accept the new enactments on the subject +of the papal jurisdiction.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>On the other hand, the Carthusians in London had proved more submissive. +There had been a struggle at first when the oath of the succession had +been tendered to them, and Prior Houghton, with the Procurator, Humphrey +Middlemore, had been committed to the Tower. The oath affirmed the +nullity of Queen Katharine’s marriage with the King on the alleged +ground of her consummated marriage with Henry’s elder brother, and +involved, though the Carthusians did not clearly understand it so at the +time, a rejection of the Pope’s authority as connected with the +dispensation for Katharine’s union with Henry. In May their scruples +were removed by the efforts of some who had influence with them, and the +whole community took the oath as required of them, though with the +pathetic addition of a clause that they only submitted “so far as it +was lawful for them so to do.” This actual submission, to Cromwell’s +mind and therefore to Ralph’s, was at first of more significance than +was the uneasy temper of the community, as reported to them, which +followed their compliance; but as the autumn drew on this opinion was +modified.</p> + +<p>It was in connection with this that Ralph became aware for the first +time of what was finally impending with regard to the King’s supremacy +over the Church.</p> + +<p>He had been sitting in Cromwell’s room in the Chancery all through one +morning, working at the evidence that was flowing in from all sides of +disaffection to Henry’s policy, sifting out worthless and frivolous +charges from serious ones. Every day a flood of such testimony poured in +from the spies in all parts of the country, relating to the deepening +dissatisfaction with the method of government; and Cromwell, as the +King’s adviser, came in for much abuse. Every kind of manifestation of +this was reported, the talk in the ale-houses and at gentlemen’s tables +alike, words dropped in the hunting-field or over a game of cards; and +the offenders were dealt with in various ways, some by a sharp rebuke or +warning, others by a sudden visit of a pursuivant and his men.</p> + +<p>Ralph made his report as usual at the end of the morning, and was on the +point of leaving, when his master called him back from the door.</p> + +<p>“A moment,” he said, “I have something to say. Sit down.”</p> + +<p>When Ralph had taken the chair again that he had just left, Cromwell +took up a pen, and began to play with it delicately as he talked.</p> + +<p>“You will have noticed,” he began, “how hot the feeling runs in the +country, and I am sure you will also have understood why it is so. It +is not so much what has happened,—I mean in the matter of the marriage +and of the friars,—but what folk fear is going to happen. It seems to +the people that security is disappearing; they do not understand that +their best security lies in obedience. And, above all, they think that +matters are dangerous with regard to the Church. They know now that the +Pope has spoken, and that the King pays no heed, but, on the other hand, +waxes more bold. And that because his conscience bids him. Remember +that, sir, when you have to do with his Highness.”</p> + +<p>He glanced at Ralph again, but there was no mockery in his solemn eyes. +Then he went on.</p> + +<p>“I am going to tell you, Mr. Torridon, that these folks are partly +right, and that his Grace has not yet done all that he intends. There is +yet one more step to take—and that is to declare the King supreme over +the Church of England.”</p> + +<p>Ralph felt those strong eyes bent upon him, and he nodded, making no +sign of approval or otherwise.</p> + +<p>“This is no new thing, Mr. Torridon,” went on Cromwell, after a moment’s +silence. “The King of England has always been supreme, though I will +acknowledge that this has become obscured of late. But it is time that +it be re-affirmed. The Popes have waxed presumptuous, and have laid +claim to titles that Christ never gave them, and it is time that they be +reminded that England is free, and will not suffer their domination. As +for the unity of the Catholic Church, that can be attended to later on, +and on firmer ground; when the Pope has been taught not to wax so proud. +There will be an Act passed by Parliament presently, perhaps next year, +to do this business, and then we shall know better what to do. Until +that, it is very necessary, as you have already seen, to keep the folks +quiet, and not to suffer any contradiction of his Grace’s rights. Do you +understand me, Mr. Torridon?”</p> + +<p>Cromwell laid the pen clown and leaned back in his chair, with his +fingers together.</p> + +<p>“I understand, sir,” said Ralph, in a perfectly even tone.</p> + +<p>“Well, that is all that I have to say,” ended his master, still watching +him. “I need not tell you how necessary secrecy is in the matter.”</p> + +<p>Ralph was considerably startled as he went home, and realized better +what it was that he had heard. While prudent persons were already +trembling at the King’s effrontery and daring in the past, Henry was +meditating a yet further step. He began to see now that the instinct of +the country was, as always, sharper than that of the individual, and +that these uneasy strivings everywhere rose from a very definite +perception of danger. The idea of the King’s supremacy, as represented +by Cromwell, would not seem to be a very startling departure; similar +protests of freedom had been made in previous reigns, but now, following +as it did upon overt acts of disobedience to the Sovereign Pontiff, and +of disregard of his authority in matters of church-law and even of the +status of Religious houses, it seemed to have a significance that +previous protests had lacked.</p> + +<p>And behind it all was the King’s conscience! This was a new thought to +Ralph, but the more he considered it the more it convinced him. It was a +curious conscience, but a mighty one, and it was backed by an +indomitable will. For the first time there opened out to Ralph’s mind a +glimpse of the possibility that he had scarcely dreamed of hitherto—of +a Nationalism in Church affairs that was a reality rather than a +theory—in which the Bishop of Rome while yet the foremost bishop of +Christendom and endowed with special prerogatives, yet should have no +finger in national affairs, which should be settled by the home +authorities without reference to him. No doubt, he told himself, a +readjustment was needed—visions and fancies had encrusted themselves so +quickly round the religion credible by a practical man that a scouring +was called for. How if this should be the method by which not only such +accretions should be done away, but yet more practical matters should be +arranged, and steps taken to amend the unwarranted interferences and +pecuniary demands of this foreign bishop?</p> + +<p>He had had more than one interview with Sir Thomas More in the Tower, +and once was able to take him news of his own household at Chelsea. For +a month none of his own people, except his servant, was allowed to visit +him, and Ralph, calling on him about three weeks after the beginning of +his imprisonment, found him eager for news.</p> + +<p>He was in a sufficiently pleasant cell in the Beauchamp Tower, furnished +with straw mats underfoot, and straw hangings in place of a wainscot; +his bed stood in one corner, with his crucifix and beads on a little +table beside it, and his narrow window looked out through eleven feet of +wall towards the Court and the White Tower. His books, too, which his +servant, John Wood, had brought from Chelsea, and which had not yet been +taken from him, stood about the room, and several lay on the table among +his papers, at which he was writing when Ralph was admitted by the +warder.</p> + +<p>“I am very glad to see you, Mr. Torridon,” he said, “I knew you would +not forget an old friend, even though he could not take your counsel. I +daresay you have come to give it me again, however.”</p> + +<p>“If I thought you would take it,” began Ralph.</p> + +<p>“But I will not,” said More smiling, “no more than before. Sit down, Mr. +Torridon.”</p> + +<p>Ralph had come at Cromwell’s suggestion, and with a very great +willingness of his own, too. He knew he could not please Beatrice more +than by visiting her friend, and he himself was pleased and amused to +think that he could serve his master’s interests from one side and his +own from another by one action.</p> + +<p>He talked a little about the oath again, and mentioned how many had +taken it during the last week or two.</p> + +<p>“I am pleased that they can do it with a good conscience,” observed +More. “And now let us talk of other matters. If I would not do it for my +daughter’s sake, who begged me, I would not do it for the sake of both +the Houses of Parliament, nor even, dear Mr. Torridon, for yours and +Master Cromwell’s.”</p> + +<p>Ralph saw that it was of no use, and began to speak of other things. He +gave him news of Chelsea.</p> + +<p>“They are not very merry there,” he said, “and I hardly suppose you +would wish them to be.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?” cried More, with a beaming face, “I am merry enough. I would +not be a monk; so God hath compelled me to be one, and treats me as one +of His own spoilt children. He setteth me on His lap and dandleth me. I +have never been so happy.”</p> + +<p>He told Ralph presently that his chief sorrow was that he could not go +to mass or receive the sacraments. The Lieutenant, Sir Edward +Walsingham, who had been his friend, had told him that he would very +gladly have given him liberties of this kind, but that he dared not, for +fear of the King’s displeasure.</p> + +<p>“But I told him,” said More, “not to trouble himself that I liked his +cheer well enough as it was, and if ever I did not he was to put me out +of his doors.”</p> + +<p>After a little more talk he showed Ralph what he was writing. It was a +treatise called a “Dialogue of Comfort against Tribulation.”</p> + +<p>“It is to persuade myself,” he said, “that I am no more a prisoner than +I was before; I know I am, but sometimes forget it. We are all God’s +prisoners.”</p> + +<p>Ralph glanced down the page just written and was astonished at its good +humour.</p> + +<p>“Some prisoner of another gaol,” he read, “singeth, danceth in his two +fetters, and feareth not his feet for stumbling at a stone; while God’s +prisoner, that hath but his one foot fettered by the gout, lieth +groaning on a couch, and quaketh and crieth out if he fear there would +fall on his foot no more than a cushion.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Ralph went straight up the river from the Tower to Chelsea to take them +news of the prisoner, and was silent and moody as he went. He had been +half touched and half enraged by More’s bearing—touched by his +simplicity and cheerfulness and enraged by his confidence in a bad +cause.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Alice More behaved as usual when he got there: she had a genius for +the obvious; commented on the weariness of living in one room, the +distress at the thought that one was fastened in at the will of another; +deplored the plainness of the prison fare, and the folly of her husband +in refusing an oath that she herself and her children and the vast +majority of the prominent persons in England had found so simple in +accepting. She left nothing unsaid.</p> + +<p>Finally, she apologized for the plainness of her dress.</p> + +<p>“You must think me a slattern, Mr. Torridon, but I cannot help it. I +have not the heart nor the means, now that my man is in prison, to do +better.”</p> + +<p>And her solemn eyes filled with tears.</p> + +<p>When he had given the news to the family he went aside from the group in +the garden to where Beatrice Atherton was sitting below the Jesu tree, +with work on her lap.</p> + +<p>He had noticed as he talked that she was sitting there, and had raised +his voice for her benefit. He fancied, and with a pleasure at the +delicate instinct, that she did not wish to appear as intimately +interested in the news from the Tower as those who had a better right to +be. He was always detecting now faint shades in her character, as he +knew her better, that charmed and delighted him.</p> + +<p>She was doing some mending, and only glanced up and down again without +ceasing or moving, as Ralph stood by her.</p> + +<p>“I thought you never used the needle,” he began in a moment.</p> + +<p>“It is never too late to mend,” she said, without the faintest movement.</p> + +<p>Ralph felt again an odd prick of happiness. It gave him a distinct +thrill of delight that she would make such an answer and so swiftly; and +at such a time, when tragedy was round her and in her heart, for he knew +how much she loved the man from whom he had just come.</p> + +<p>He sat down on the garden chair opposite, and watched her fingers and +the movements of her wrist as she passed the needle in and out, and +neither spoke again till the others had dispersed.</p> + +<p>“You heard all I said?” said Ralph at last.</p> + +<p>She bowed her head without answering.</p> + +<p>“Shall I go and bring you news again presently?”</p> + +<p>“If you please,” she said.</p> + +<p>“I hope to be able to do some little things for him,” went on Ralph, +dropping his eyes, and he was conscious that she momentarily looked up.</p> + +<p>—“But I am afraid there is not much. I shall speak for him to Master +Cromwell and the Lieutenant.”</p> + +<p>The needle paused and then went on again.</p> + +<p>Ralph was conscious of an extraordinary momentousness in every word that +he said. He was well aware that this girl was not to be wooed by +violence, but that he must insinuate his mind and sympathies delicately +with hers, watching for every movement and ripple of thought. He had +known ever since his talk with Margaret Roper that Beatrice was, as it +were, turned towards him and scrutinising him, and that any mistake on +his part, however slight, might finally alienate her. Even his gestures, +the tones of his voice, his manner of walking, were important elements. +He knew now that he was the kind of person who might be acceptable to +her—or rather that his personality contained one facet that pleased +her, and that he must be careful now to keep that facet turned towards +her continually at such an angle that she caught the flash. He had +sufficient sense, not to act a part, for that, he knew, she would soon +discover, but to be natural in his best way, and to use the fine +instincts that he was aware of possessing to tell him exactly how she +would wish him to express himself. It would be a long time yet, he +recognised, before he could attain his final object; in fact he was not +perfectly certain what he wanted; but meanwhile he availed himself of +every possible opportunity to get nearer, and was content with his +progress.</p> + +<p>He was sorely tempted now to discuss Sir Thomas’s position and to +describe his own, but he perceived from her own aloofness just now that +it would seem a profanity, so he preserved silence instead, knowing that +it would be eloquent to her. At last she spoke again, and there was a +suggestion of a tremor in her voice.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you can do nothing for him really? He must stay in the +Tower?”</p> + +<p>Ralph threw out his hands, silently, expostulating.</p> + +<p>“Nothing?” she said again, bending over her work.</p> + +<p>Ralph stood up, looking down at her, but made no answer.</p> + +<p>“I—I would do anything,” she said deliberately, “anything, I think, for +the man—” and then broke off abruptly.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Ralph went away from Chelsea that afternoon with a whirling head and +dancing heart. She had said no more than that, but he knew what she had +meant, and knew, too that she would not have said as much to anyone to +whom she was indifferent. Of course, it was hopeless to think of +bringing about More’s release, but he could at least pretend to try, and +Ralph was aware that to chivalrous souls a pathetic failure often +appeals more than an excellent success.</p> + +<p>Folks turned to look after him more than once as he strode home.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br><span class="small">A HIGHER STEP</span></h2></div> + + +<p>As Chris, on the eve of his profession, looked back over the year that +had passed since his reception at the guest-house, he scarcely knew +whether it seemed like a week or a century. At times it appeared as if +the old life in the world were a kind of far-away picture in which he +saw himself as one detached from his present personality, moving among +curious scenes in which now he had no part; at other times the familiar +past rushed on him fiercely, deafened him with its appeal, and claimed +him as its own. In such moods the monastery was an intolerable prison, +the day’s round an empty heart-breaking formality in which his soul was +being stifled, and even his habit, which he had once touched so +reverently, the badge of a fool.</p> + +<p>The life of the world at such times seemed to him the only sanity; these +men used the powers that God had given them, were content with simple +and unostentatious doings and interests, reached the higher vocation by +their very naiveté, and did not seek to fly on wings that were not meant +to bear them. How sensible, Christopher told himself, was Ralph’s ideal! +God had made the world, so Ralph lived in it—a world in which great and +small affairs were carried on, and in which he interested himself. God +had made horses and hawks, had provided materials for carriages and fine +clothes and cross-bows, had formed the sexes and allowed for love and +domestic matters, had created brains with their capacities of passion +and intellect; and so Ralph had taken these things as he found them, +hunted, dressed, lived, managed and mixed with men. At times in his cell +Chris saw that imposing figure in all its quiet bravery of dress, that +sane, clever face, those pitying and contemptuous eyes looking at him, +and heard the well-bred voice asking and commenting and wondering at the +misguided zeal of a brother who could give all this up, and seek to live +a life that was built on and sustained by illusions.</p> + +<p>One event during his first six months of the novitiate helped to +solemnise him and to clear the confusion.</p> + +<p>Old Dom Augustine was taken sick and died, and Chris for the first time +in his life watched the melting tragedy of death. The old monk had been +moved from the dormitory to the sick-room when the end seemed imminent, +and one afternoon Chris noticed the little table set outside the door, +with its candles and crucifix, the basin of cotton-wool, and the other +signs that the last sacraments were to be administered. He knew little +of the old man, except his bleared face and shaking hands as he had +seen them in choir, and had never been greatly impressed by him; but it +was another matter when in the evening of the same day, at his master’s +order he passed into the cell and knelt down with the others to see the +end.</p> + +<p>The old monk was lying now on the cross of ashes that had been spread on +the floor; his features looked pinched and white in the candlelight; his +old mouth moved incessantly, and opened now and again to gasp; but there +was an august dignity on his face that Chris had never seen there +before.</p> + +<p>Outside the night was still and frosty; only now and again the heavy +stroke of the bell told the town that a soul was passing.</p> + +<p>Dom Augustine had received Viaticum an hour before. Chris had heard the +steady tinkle of the bell, like the sound of Aaron’s garments, as the +priest who had brought him Communion passed back with his sacred burden, +and Chris had fallen on his knees where he stood as he caught a glimpse +of the white procession passing back to the church, their frosty breath +going up together in the winter night air, the wheeling shadows, and the +glare of the torches giving a pleasant warm light in the dull cloister.</p> + +<p>But all that was over now, and the end was at hand.</p> + +<p>As Chris knelt there, mechanically responding to the prayers on which +the monk’s soul was beginning to lift itself and flutter for escape, +there fell a great solemnity on his spirit. The thought, as old as +death, made itself real to him, that this was the end of every man and +of himself too. Where Dom Augustine lay, he would lie, with his past +behind him, of which every detail would be instinct with eternal import. +All the tiny things of the monastic life—the rising in time for the +night office, attention during it, the responses to grace, the little +movements prescribed by etiquette, the invisible motions of a soul that +had or had not acted for the love of God, those stirrings, falls, +aspirations, that incessant activity of eighty years—all so incredibly +minute from one point of view, so incredibly weighty from another—the +account of all those things was to be handed in now, and an eternal +judgment given.</p> + +<p>He looked at the wearied, pained old face again, at the tight-shut eyes, +the jerking movements of the unshaven lips, and wondered what was +passing behind;—what strange colloquy of the soul with itself or its +Master or great personages of the Court of Heaven. And all was set in +this little bare setting of white walls, a tumbled bed, a shuttered +window, a guttering candle or two, a cross of ashes on boards, a ring +of faces, and a murmur of prayers!</p> + +<p>The solemnity rose and fell in Chris’s soul like a deep organ-note +sounding and waning. How homely and tender were these last rites, this +accompaniment of the departing soul to the edge of eternity with all +that was dear and familiar to it—the drops of holy water, the mellow +light of candles, and the sonorous soothing Latin! And yet—and yet—how +powerless to save a soul that had not troubled to make the necessary +efforts during life, and had lost the power of making them now!</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>When all was over he went out of the cell with an indescribable gravity +at his heart.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>When the great events in the spring of ’34 began to take place, Chris +was in a period of abstracted peace, and the rumours of them came to him +as cries from another planet.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony Marks came into the cloister one day from the guest-house +with a great excitement in his face.</p> + +<p>“Here is news!” he said, joining himself to Chris and another young monk +with whom the lonely novice was sometimes allowed to walk. “Master +Humphreys, from London, tells me they are all in a ferment there.”</p> + +<p>Chris looked at him with a deferential coldness, and waited for more.</p> + +<p>“They say that Master More hath refused the oath, and that he is lodged +in the Tower, and my Lord of Rochester too.”</p> + +<p>The young monk burst into exclamations and questions, but Chris was +silent. It was sad enough, but what did it matter to him? What did it +really matter to anyone? God was King.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony was in a hurry, and scuffled off presently to tell the +Prior, and in an hour or two there was an air of excitement through the +house. Chris, however, heard nothing more except the little that the +novice-master chose to tell him, and felt a certain contempt for the +anxious-eyed monks who broke the silence by whispers behind doors, and +the peace of the monastery by their perturbed looks.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Even when a little later in the summer the commissioner came down to +tender the oath of succession Chris heard little and cared less. He was +aware of a fine gentleman striding through the cloister, lolling in the +garth, and occupying a prominent seat in the church; he noticed that his +master was long in coming to him after the protracted chapter-meetings, +but it appeared to him all rather an irrelevant matter. These things +were surely quite apart from the business for which they were all +gathered in the house—the <i>opus Dei</i> and the salvation of souls; this +or that legal document did not seriously affect such high matters.</p> + +<p>The novice-master told him presently that the community had signed the +oath, as all others were doing, and that there was no need for anxiety: +they were in the hands of their Religious Superiors.</p> + +<p>“I was not anxious,” said Chris abruptly, and Dom James hastened to snub +him, and to tell him that he ought to have been, but that novices always +thought they knew everything, and were the chief troubles that Religious +houses had to put up with.</p> + +<p>Chris courteously begged pardon, and went to his lessons wondering what +in the world all the pother was about.</p> + +<p>But such moods of detachment were not continuous; they visited him for +weeks at a time, when his soul was full of consolation, and he was +amazed that any other life seemed possible to anyone. He seemed to +himself to have reached the very heart and secret of existence—surely +it was plain enough; God and eternity were the only things worth +considering; a life passed in an ecstasy, if such were possible, was +surely more consonant with reality than one of ordinary activities. +Activities were, after all, but concessions to human weakness and desire +for variety; contemplation was the simple and natural attitude of a soul +that knew herself and God.</p> + +<p>But he was a man as well as a novice, and when these moods ebbed from +his soul they left him strangely bitter and dry: the clouds would +gather; the wind of discontent would begin to shrill about the angles of +his spirit, and presently the storm of desolation would be up.</p> + +<p>He had one such tempestuous mood immediately before his profession.</p> + +<p>During its stress he had received a letter from his father which he was +allowed to read, in which Sir James half hinted at the advisability of +postponing the irrevocable step until things were quieter, and his heart +had leaped at the possibility of escape. He did not know till then how +strong had grown the motive of appearing well in the eyes of his +relatives and of fearing to lose their respect by drawing back; and now +that his father, too, seemed to suggest that he had better re-consider +himself, it appeared that a door was opened in the high monastery wall +through which he might go through and take his honour with him.</p> + +<p>He passed through a terrible struggle that night.</p> + +<p>Never had the night-office seemed so wearisomely barren. The glamour +that had lighted those dark walls and the double row of cowls and +down-bent faces, the mystical beauty of the single flames here and +there that threw patches of light on the carving of the stalls and the +sombre habits, and gave visibility and significance to what without them +was obscure, the strange suggestiveness of the high-groined roof and the +higher vault glimmering through the summer darkness—all this had faded +and left him, as it seemed, sane and perceptive of facts at last. Out +there through those transepts lay the town where reasonable folk slept, +husband and wife together, and the children in the great bed next door, +with the tranquil ordinary day behind them and its fellow before; there +were the streets, still now and dark and empty but for the sleeping +dogs, where the signs swung and the upper stories leaned together, and +where the common life had been transacted since the birth of the town +and would continue till its decay. And beyond lay the cool round hills, +with their dark dewy slopes, over which he had ridden a year ago, and +all England beyond them again, with its human life and affairs and +interests; and over all hung the serene stars whence God looked down +well pleased with all that He had made.</p> + +<p>And, meanwhile, here he stood in his stall in his night shoes and black +habit and cropped head, propped on his misericorde, with the great pages +open before him, thumbed and greasy at their corners, from which he was +repeating in a loud monotone formula after formula that had had time to +grow familiar from repetition, but not yet sweet from associations—here +he stood with heavy eyelids after his short sleep, his feet aching and +hot, and his whole soul rebellious.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He was sent by his novice-master next day to the Prior, with his +father’s letter in his hand, and stood humbly by the door while the +Prior read it. Chris watched him under half-raised eye-lids; saw the +clean-cut profile with its delicate mouth bent over the paper, and the +hand with the enamelled ring turn the page. Prior Crowham was a +cultivated, well-bred man, not over strong-willed, but courteous and +sympathetic. He turned a little to Chris in his carved chair, as he laid +the letter down.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, smiling, “it is for you to choose whether you will +offer yourself. Of course, there is uneasiness abroad, as this letter +says, but what then?”</p> + +<p>He smiled pleasantly at the young man, and Chris felt a little ashamed. +There was silence for a moment.</p> + +<p>“It is for you to choose,” said the Prior again, “you have been happy +with us, I think?”</p> + +<p>Chris pressed his lips together and looked down.</p> + +<p>“Of course Satan will not leave you alone,” went on the monk presently. +“He will suggest many reasons against your profession. If he did not, I +should be afraid that you had no vocation.”</p> + +<p>Again he waited for an answer, and again Chris was silent. His soul was +so desolate that he could not trust himself to say all that he felt.</p> + +<p>“You must wait a little,” went on the Prior, “recommend yourself to our +Lady and our Patron, and then leave yourself in their hands. You will +know better when you have had a few days. Will you do this, and then +come to me again?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, my Lord Prior,” said Chris, and he took up the letter, bowed, and +went out.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Within the week relief and knowledge came to him. He had done what the +monk had told him, and it had been followed by a curious sense of relief +at the thought suggested to him that the responsibility of decision did +not rest on him but on his heavenly helpers. And then as he served mass +the answer came.</p> + +<p>It was in the chapel of the Blessed Virgin, a little building entered +from the north transept, with its windows opening directly on to the +road leading up into the town; there was no one there but the two. It +was about seven o’clock on the feast of the Seven Martyrs, and the +chapel was full of a diffused tender morning light, for the chapel was +sheltered from the direct sunshine by the tall church on its south.</p> + +<p>As they went up to the altar the bell sounded for the Elevation at the +high-altar of the church, at the <i>missa familiaris</i>, and the footstep of +someone passing through the north transept ceased instantly at the +sound. The priest ascended the steps, set down the vessels, spread the +corporal, opened the book, and came down again for the preparation. +There was no one else in the chapel, and the peace of the place in the +summer light, only vitalized by the brisk chirping of a sparrow under +the eaves, entered into Christopher’s soul.</p> + +<p>As the mass went on it seemed as if a veil were lifting from his spirit, +and leaving it free and sensible again. The things around him fell into +their proper relationships, and there was no doubt in his mind that this +newly restored significance of theirs was their true interpretation. +They seemed penetrated and suffused by the light of the inner world; the +red-brocaded chasuble moving on a level with his eyes, stirring with the +shifting of the priest’s elbows, was more than a piece of rich stuff, +the white alb beneath more than mere linen, the hood thrown back in the +amice a sacramental thing. He looked up at the smoky yellow flames +against the painted woodwork at the back of the altar, at the +discoloured stones beside the grey window-mouldings still with the +slanting marks of the chisel upon them, at the black rafters overhead, +and last out through the shafted window at the heavy July foliage of the +elm that stood by the road and the brilliant morning sky beyond; and +once more he saw what these things meant and conveyed to an immortal +soul. The words that he had said during these last weeks so mechanically +were now rich and alive again, and as he answered the priest he +perceived the spiritual vibration of them in the inner world of which +his own soul was but a part. And then the climax was reached, and he +lifted the skirt of the vestment with his left hand and shook the bell +in his right; the last shreds of confusion were gone, and his spirit +basked tranquil and content and certain again in the light that was +newly risen on him.</p> + +<p>He went to the novice-master after the morning-chapter, and told him +that he had made up his mind to offer himself for profession if it was +thought advisable by the authorities.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Towards the end of August he presented himself once more before the +chapter to make his solemn demand; his petition was granted, and a day +appointed for his profession.</p> + +<p>Then he withdrew into yet stricter seclusion to prepare for the step.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX<br><span class="small">LIFE AT LEWES</span></h2></div> + + +<p>Under the direction of the junior-master who overlooked the young monks +for some years after their profession, Chris continued his work of +illumination, for which he had shown great aptitude during his year of +noviceship.</p> + +<p>The art was beginning to disappear, since the introduction of printing +had superseded the need of manuscript, but in some Religious Houses it +was still thought a suitable exercise during the hours appointed for +manual labour.</p> + +<p>It was soon after the beginning of the new year that Chris was entrusted +with a printed antiphonary that had its borders and initials left white; +and he carried the great loose sheets with a great deal of pride to the +little carrel or wooden stall assigned to him in the northern cloister.</p> + +<p>It was a tiny room, scarcely six feet square, lighted by the window into +the cloister-garth, and was almost entirely filled by the chair, the +sloping desk against the wall, and the table where the pigments and +brushes lay ready to the hand. The door opened on to the cloister itself +where the professed monks were at liberty to walk, and on the opposite +side stood the broad aumbries that held the library of the house; and it +was from the books here that Chris was allowed to draw ideas for his +designs. It was a great step in that life of minute details when now for +the first time he was permitted to follow his own views, instead of +merely filling in with colour outlines already drawn for him; and he +found his scheme for the decoration a serious temptation to distraction +during the office. As he stood among the professed monks, in his own +stall at last, he found his eyes wandering away to the capitals of the +round pillars, the stone foliage and fruit that burst out of the slender +shafts, the grim heads that strained forward in mitre and crown +overhead, and even the living faces of his brethren and superiors, clear +against the dark woodwork. When he bent his eyes resolutely on his book +he found his mind still intent on his more secular business; he mentally +corrected this awkward curve of the initial, substituted an oak spray +with acorns for that stiff monstrosity, and set my Lord Prior’s face +grinning among griffins at the foot of the page where humour was more +readily admitted.</p> + +<p>It was an immense joy when he closed his carrel-door, after his hour’s +siesta in the dormitory, and sat down to his work. He was still warm +with sleep, and the piercing cold of the unwarmed cloister did not +affect him, but he set his feet on the sloping wooden footstool that +rested on the straw for fear they should get cold, and turned smiling to +his side-table.</p> + +<p>There were all the precious things laid out; the crow’s quills sharpened +to an almost invisible point for the finer lines, the two sets of +pencils, one of silver-point that left a faint grey line, and the other +of haematite for the burnishing of the gold, the badger and minever +brushes, the sponge and pumice-stone for erasures; the horns for black +and red ink lay with the scissors and rulers on the little upper shelf +of his desk. There were the pigments also there, which he had learnt to +grind and prepare, the crushed lapis lazuli first calcined by heat +according to the modern degenerate practice, with the cheap German blue +beside it, and the indigo beyond; the prasinum; the vermilion and red +lead ready mixed, and the rubrica beside it; the yellow orpiment, and, +most important of all, the white pigments, powdered chalk and egg +shells, lying by the biacca. In a separate compartment covered carefully +from chance draughts or dust lay the precious gold leaf, and a little +vessel of the inferior fluid gold used for narrow lines.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>His first business was to rule the thick red lines down the side of the +text, using a special metal pen for it; and then to begin to sketch in +his initials and decorations. For this latter part of the work he had +decided to follow the lines of Foucquet from a Book of the Hours that he +had taken out of its aumbry; a mass of delicate foliage and leaves, with +medallions set in it united by twisted thorn-branches twining upwards +through the broad border. These medallions on the first sheet he +purposed to fill with miniatures of the famous relics kept at Lewes, the +hanging sleeve of the Blessed Virgin in its crystal case, the +drinking-cup of Cana, the rod of Moses, and the Magdalene’s box of +ointment. In the later pages which would be less elaborate he would +introduce the other relics, and allow his humour free play in designing +for the scrolls at the foot tiny portraits of his brethren; the Prior +should be in a mitre and have the legs and tail of a lion, the +novice-master, with a fox’s brush emerging from his flying cowl, should +be running from a hound who carried a discipline in his near paw. But +there was time yet to think of these things; it would be weeks before +that page could be reached, and meanwhile there was the foliage to be +done, and the rose leaf that lay on his desk to be copied minutely from +a hundred angles.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>His distractions at mass and office were worse than ever now that the +great work was begun, and week after week in confession there was the +same tale. The mere process was so absorbing, apart from the joy of +creation and design. More than once he woke from a sweating nightmare in +the long dormitory, believing that he had laid on gold-leaf without +first painting the surface with the necessary mordant, or had run his +stilus through his most delicate miniature. But he made extraordinary +progress in the art; and the Prior more than once stepped into his +carrel and looked over his shoulder, watching the slender fingers with +the bone pen between them polishing the gold till it shone like a +mirror, or the steady lead pencil moving over the white page in +faultless curve. Then he would pat him on the shoulder, and go out in +approving silence.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Chris was supremely content that he had done right in asking for +profession. It appeared to him that he had found a life that was above +all others worthy of an immortal soul. The whole day’s routine was +directed to one end, the performance of the <i>Opus Dei</i>, the uttering of +praises to Him who had made and was sustaining and would receive again +all things to Himself.</p> + +<p>They rose at midnight for the night-office that the sleeping world might +not be wholly dumb to God; went to rest again; rose once more with the +world, and set about a yet sublimer worship. A stream of sacrifice +poured up to the Throne through the mellow summer morning, or the cold +winter darkness and gloom, from altar after altar in the great church. +Christopher remembered pleasantly a morning soon after the beginning of +his novitiate when he had been in the church as a set of priests came in +and began mass simultaneously; the mystical fancy suggested itself as +the hum of voices began that he was in a garden, warm and bright with +grace, and that bees were about him making honey—that fragrant +sweetness of which it had been said long ago that God should eat—and as +the tinkle of the Elevation sounded out here and there, it seemed to him +as a signal that the mysterious confection was done, and that every +altar sprang into perfume from those silver vessels set with jewel and +crystal.</p> + +<p>When the first masses were over, there was a pause in which the <i>mixtum</i> +was taken—bread and wine or beer—standing in the refectory, after a +short prayer that the Giver of all good gifts might bless the food and +drink of His servants, and was closed again by another prayer said +privately for all benefactors. Meanwhile the bell was ringing for the +Lady mass, to remind the monks that the interval was only as it were a +parenthetical concession; and after Terce and the Lady Mass followed the +Chapter, in which faults were confessed and penances inflicted, and the +living instruments of God’s work were examined and scoured for use. The +martyrology was read at this time, as well as some morning prayers, to +keep before the monks’ minds the remembrance of those great vessels of +God’s household called to so high an employment. It was then, too, that +other business of the house was done, and the seal affixed to any +necessary documents. Christopher had an opportunity once of examining +this seal when it had been given him to clean, and he looked with awe on +the figures of his four new patrons, St. Peter, St. Pancras, St. Paul +and Our Lady, set in niches above a cliff with the running water of the +Ouse beneath, and read the petition that ran round the circle—</p> + +<p>“<i>Dulcis agonista tibi convertit domus ista Pancrati memorum precibus +memor esto tuorum.</i>”</p> + +<p>When the chapter was over, and the deaths of any brethren of the order +had been announced, and their souls prayed for, there was a pause for +recreation in the cloister and the finishing of further business before +they assembled again in time to go into church for the high mass, at +which the work and prayers of the day were gathered up and consecrated +in a supreme offering. Even the dinner that followed was a religious +ceremony; it began by a salutation of the Christ in glory that was on +the wall over the Prior’s table, and then a long grace was sung before +they took their seats. The reader in the stone-pulpit on the south wall +of the refectory began his business on the sounding of a bell; and at a +second stroke there was a hum and clash of dishes from the kitchen end, +and the aproned servers entered in line bearing the dishes. Immediately +the meal was begun the drink destined for the poor at the gate was set +aside, and a little later a representative of them was brought into the +refectory to receive his portion; at the close again what was left over +was collected for charity; while the community after singing part of the +grace after meat went to finish it in the church.</p> + +<p>Chris learned to love the quiet religious graciousness of the refectory. +The taking of food here was a consecrated action; it seemed a +sacramental thing. He loved the restraint and preciseness of it, ensured +by the solemn crucifix over the door with its pathetic inscription +“SITIO,” the polished oak tables, solid and narrow, the shining pewter +dishes, the folded napkins, the cleanly-served plentiful food, to each +man his portion, the indescribable dignity of the prior’s little table, +the bowing of the servers before it, the mellow grace ringing out in its +monotone that broke into minor thirds and octaves of melody, like a +grave line of woodwork on the panelling bursting into a stiff leaf or +two at its ends. There was a strange and wonderful romance it about on +early autumn evenings as the light died out behind the stained windows +and the reader’s face glowed homely and strong between his two candles +on the pulpit. And surely these tales of saints, the extract from the +Rule, these portions of Scripture sung with long pauses and on a +monotone for fear that the reader’s personality should obscure the +message of what he read—surely this was a better accompaniment to the +taking of food, in itself so gross a thing, than the feverish chatter of +a secular hall and the bustling and officiousness of paid servants.</p> + +<p>After a general washing of hands the monks dispersed to their work, and +the novices to bowls or other games; the Prior first distributing the +garden instruments, and then beginning the labour with a commendation of +it to God; and after finishing the manual work and a short time of +study, they re-assembled in the cloister to go to Vespers. This, like +the high mass, was performed with the ceremonial proper to the day, and +was followed by supper, at which the same kind of ceremonies were +observed as at dinner. When this was over, after a further short +interval the evening reading or Collation took place in the +chapter-house, after which the monks were at liberty to go and warm +themselves at the one great fire kept up for the purpose in the +calefactory; and then compline was sung, followed by Our Lady’s Anthem.</p> + +<p>This for Chris was one of the climaxes of the day’s emotions. He was +always tired out by now with the day’s work, and longing for bed, and +this approach to the great Mother of Monks soothed and quieted him. It +was sung in almost complete darkness, except for a light or two in the +long nave where a dark figure or two would be kneeling, and the pleasant +familiar melody, accompanied softly by the organ overhead after the bare +singing of Compline, seemed like a kind of good-night kiss. The +infinite pathos of the words never failed to touch him, the cry of the +banished children of Eve, weeping and mourning in this vale of tears to +Mary whose obedience had restored what Eve’s self-will had ruined, and +the last threefold sob of endearment to the “kindly, loving, sweet, +Virgin Mary.” After the high agonisings and aspirations of the day’s +prayer, the awfulness of the holy Sacrifice, the tramping monotony of +the Psalter, the sting of the discipline, the aches and sweats of the +manual labour, the intent strain of the illuminating, this song to Mary +was a running into Mother’s arms and finding compensation there for all +toils and burdens.</p> + +<p>Finally in complete silence the monks passed along the dark cloister, +sprinkled with holy water as they left the church, up to the dormitory +which ran over the whole length of the chapter house, the bridges and +other offices, to sleep till midnight.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The effect of this life, unbroken by external distractions, was to make +Chris’s soul alert and perceptive to the inner world, and careless or +even contemptuous of the ordinary world of men. This spiritual realm +began for the first time to disclose its details to him, and to show +itself to some extent a replica of nature. It too had its varying +climate, its long summer of warmth and light, its winter of dark +discontent, its strange and bewildering sunrises of Christ upon the +soul, when He rose and went about His garden with perfume and music, or +stayed and greeted His creature with the message of His eyes. Chris +began to learn that these spiritual changes were in a sense independent +of him, that they were not in his soul, but rather that his soul was in +them. He could be happy and content when the winds of God were cold and +His light darkened, or sad and comfortless when the flowers of grace +were apparent and the river of life bright and shining.</p> + +<p>And meanwhile the ordinary world went on, but far away and dimly heard +and seen; as when one looks down from a castle-garden on to humming +streets five hundred feet below; and the old life at Overfield, and +Ralph’s doings in London seemed unreal and fantastic activities, +purposeless and empty.</p> + +<p>Little by little, however, as the point of view shifted, Chris began to +find that the external world could not be banished, and that the +annoyances from the clash of characters discordant with his own were as +positive as those which had distressed him before. Dom Anselm Bowden’s +way of walking and the patch of grease at the shoulder of his cowl, +never removed, and visible as he went before him into the church was as +distractingly irritating as Ralph’s contempt; the buzz in the voice of a +cantor who seemed always to sing on great days was as distressing as his +own dog’s perversity at Overfield, or the snapping of a bow-string.</p> + +<p>When <i>accidie</i> fell upon Chris it seemed as if this particular house was +entirely ruined by such incidents; the Prior was finikin, the +junior-master tyrannical, the paints for illumination inferior in +quality, the straw of his bed peculiarly sharp, the chapter-house +unnecessarily draughty. And until he learnt from his confessor that this +spiritual ailment was a perfectly familiar one, and that its symptoms +and effects had been diagnosed centuries before, and had taken him at +his word and practised the remedies he enjoined, Chris suffered +considerably from discontent and despair alternately. At times others +were intolerable, at times he was intolerable to himself, reproaching +himself for having attempted so high a life, criticising his fellows +for so lowering it to a poor standard.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The first time that he was accused in chapter of a fault against the +Rule was a very great and shocking humiliation.</p> + +<p>He had accused himself as usual on his knees of his own remissions, of +making an unnecessarily loud noise in drinking, of intoning a wrong +antiphon as cantor, of spilling crumbs in the refectory; and then leaned +back on his heels well content with the insignificance of his list, to +listen with a discreet complacency to old Dom Adrian, who had overslept +himself once, spilled his beer twice, criticised his superior, and +talked aloud to himself four times during the Greater Silence, and who +now mumbled out his crimes hastily and unconcernedly.</p> + +<p>When the self-accusations were done, the others began, and to his horror +Chris heard his own name spoken.</p> + +<p>“I accuse Dom Christopher Torridon of not keeping the guard of the eyes +at Terce this morning.”</p> + +<p>It was perfectly true; Chris had been so much absorbed in noticing an +effect of shade thrown by a corbel, and in plans for incorporating it +into his illumination that he had let a verse pass as far as the star +that marked the pause. He felt his heart leap with resentment. Then a +flash of retort came to him, and he waited his turn.</p> + +<p>“I accuse Dom Bernard Parr of not keeping the guard of the eyes at Terce +this morning. He was observing me.”</p> + +<p>Just the faintest ripple passed round the line; and then the Prior spoke +with a tinge of sharpness, inflicting the penances, and giving Chris a +heavy sentence of twenty strokes with the discipline.</p> + +<p>When Chris’s turn came he threw back his habit petulantly, and +administered his own punishment as the custom was, with angry fervour.</p> + +<p>As he was going out the Prior made him a sign, and took him through into +his own cell.</p> + +<p>“Counter-accusations are contrary to the Rule,” he said. “It must not +happen again,” and dismissed him sternly.</p> + +<p>And then Chris for a couple of days had a fierce struggle against +uncharitableness, asking himself whether he had not eyed Dom Bernard +with resentment, and then eyeing him again. It seemed too as if a fiend +suggested bitter sentences of reproach, that he rehearsed to himself, +and then repented. But on the third morning there came one of those +strange breezes of grace that he was beginning to experience more and +more frequently, and his sore soul grew warm and peaceful again.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was in those kinds of temptation now that he found his warfare to +lie; internal assaults so fierce that it was terribly difficult to know +whether he had yielded or not, sudden images of pride and anger and lust +that presented themselves so vividly and attractively that it seemed he +must have willed them; it was not often that he was tempted to sin in +word or deed—such, when they came, rushed on him suddenly; but in the +realm of thought and imagination and motive he would often find himself, +as it were, entering a swarm of such things, that hovered round him, +impeding his prayer, blinding his insight, and seeking to sting the very +heart of his spiritual life. Then once more he would fight himself free +by despising and rejecting them, or would emerge without conscious will +of his own into clearness and serenity.</p> + +<p>But as he looked back he regretted nothing. It was true that the +warfare was more subtle and internal, but it was more honourable too; +for to conquer a motive or tame an imagination was at once more arduous +and more far-reaching in its effects than a victory in merely outward +matters, and he seldom failed to thank God half-a-dozen times a day for +having given him the vocation of a monk.</p> + +<p>There was one danger, however, that he did not realise, and his +confessor failed to point it out to him; and that was the danger of the +wrong kind of detachment. As has been already seen the theory of the +Religious Life was that men sought it not merely for the salvation of +their own souls, but for that of the world. A monastery was a place +where in a special sense the spiritual commerce of the world was carried +on: as a workman’s shed is the place deputed and used by the world for +the manufacture of certain articles. It was the manufactory of grace +where skilled persons were at work, busy at a task of prayer and +sacrament which was to be at other men’s service. If the father of a +family had a piece of spiritual work to be done, he went to the +monastery and arranged for it, and paid a fee for the sustenance of +those he employed, as he might go to a merchant’s to order a cargo and +settle for its delivery.</p> + +<p>Since this was so then, it was necessary that the spiritual workmen +should be in a certain touch with those for whom they worked. It was +true that they must be out of the world, undominated by its principles +and out of love with its spirit; but in another sense they must live in +its heart. To use another analogy they were as windmills, lifted up from +the earth into the high airs of grace, but their base must be on the +ground or their labour would be ill-spent. They must be mystically one +with the world that they had resigned.</p> + +<p>Chris forgot this; and laboured, and to a large extent succeeded, in +detaching himself wholly; and symptoms of this mistake showed themselves +in such things as tending to despise secular life, feeling impatient +with the poor to whom he had to minister, in sneering in his heart at +least at anxious fussy men who came to arrange for masses, at +troublesome women who haunted the sacristy door in a passion of +elaborateness, and at comfortable families who stamped into high mass +and filled a seat and a half, but who had yet their spiritual burdens +and their claims to honour.</p> + +<p>But he was to be brought rudely down to facts again. He was beginning to +forget that England was about him and stirring in her agony; and he was +reminded of it with some force in the winter after his profession.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He was going out to the gate-house one day on an errand from the +junior-master when he became aware of an unusual stir in the court. +There were a couple of palfreys there, and half-a-dozen mules behind, +whilst three or four strange monks with a servant or two stood at their +bridles.</p> + +<p>Chris stopped to consider, for he had no business with guests; and as he +hesitated the door of the guest-house opened, and two prelates came out +with Dom Anthony behind them—tall, stately men in monks’ habits with +furred cloaks and crosses. Chris slipped back at once into the cloister +from which he had just come out, and watched them go past to the Prior’s +lodging.</p> + +<p>They appeared at Vespers that afternoon again, sitting in the first +returned stalls near the Prior, and Chris recognised one of them as the +great Abbot of Colchester. He looked at him now and again during Vespers +with a reverential awe, for the Abbot was a great man, a spiritual peer +of immense influence and reputation, and watched that fatherly face, +his dignified bows and stately movements, and the great sapphire that +shone on his hand as he turned the leaves of his illuminated book.</p> + +<p>The two prelates were at supper, sitting on either side of the Prior on +the dais; and afterwards the monks were called earlier than usual from +recreation into the chapter-house.</p> + +<p>The Prior made them a little speech saying that the Abbot had something +to say to them, and then sat down; his troubled eyes ran over the faces +of his subjects, and his fingers twitched and fidgetted on his knees.</p> + +<p>The Abbot did not make them a long discourse; but told them briefly that +there was trouble coming; he spoke in veiled terms of the Act of +Supremacy, and the serious prayer that was needed; he said that a time +of testing was close at hand, and that every man must scrutinise his own +conscience and examine his motives; and that the unlearned had better +follow the advice and example of their superiors.</p> + +<p>It was all very vague and unsatisfactory; but Chris became aware of +three things. First, that the world was very much alive and could not be +dismissed by a pious aspiration or two; second, that the world was about +to make some demand that would have to be seriously dealt with, and +third, that there was nothing really to fear so long as their souls were +clean and courageous. The Abbot was a melting speaker, full at once of a +fatherly tenderness and vehemence, and as Chris looked at him he felt +that indeed there was nothing to fear so long as monks had such +representatives and protectors as these, and that the world had better +look to itself for fear it should dash itself to ruin against such rocks +of faith and holiness.</p> + +<p>But as the spring drew on, an air of suspense and anxiety made itself +evident in the house. News came down that More and Fisher were still in +prison, that the oath was being administered right and left, that the +King had thrown aside all restraints, and that the civil breach with +Rome seemed in no prospect of healing. As for the spiritual breach the +monks did not seriously consider it yet; they regarded themselves as +still in union with the Holy See whatever their rulers might say or do, +and only prayed for the time when things might be as before and there +should be no longer any doubt or hesitation in the minds of weak +brethren.</p> + +<p>But the Prior’s face grew more white and troubled, and his temper +uncertain.</p> + +<p>Now and again he would make them speeches assuring them fiercely that +all was well, and that all they had to do was to be quiet and obedient; +and now he would give way to a kind of angry despair, tell them that all +was lost, that every man would have to save himself; and then for days +after such an exhibition he would be silent and morose, rapping his +fingers softly as he sat at his little raised table in the refectory, +walking with downcast eyes up and down the cloister muttering and +staring.</p> + +<p>Towards the end of April he sent abruptly for Chris, told him that he +had news from London that made his presence there necessary, and ordered +him to be ready to ride with him in a week or two.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X<br><span class="small">THE ARENA</span></h2></div> + + +<p>It was in the evening of a warm May day that the Prior and Chris arrived +at the hostelry in Southwark, which belonged to Lewes Priory.</p> + +<p>It was on the south side of Kater Lane, opposite St. Olave’s church, a +great house built of stone with arched gates, with a large porch opening +straight into the hall, which was high and vaulted with a frieze of +grotesque animals and foliage running round it. There were a few +servants there, and one or two friends of the Prior waiting at the porch +as they arrived; and one of them, a monk himself from the cell at +Farley, stepped up to the Prior’s stirrup and whispered to him.</p> + +<p>Chris heard an exclamation and a sharp indrawing of breath, but was too +well trained to ask; so he too dismounted and followed the others into +the hall, leaving his beast in the hands of a servant.</p> + +<p>The Prior was already standing by the monk at the upper end, questioning +him closely, and glancing nervously this way and that.</p> + +<p>“To-day?” he asked sharply, and looked at the other horrified.</p> + +<p>The monk nodded, pale-faced and anxious, his lower lip sucked in.</p> + +<p>The Prior turned to Chris.</p> + +<p>“They have suffered to-day,” he said.</p> + +<p>News had reached Lewes nearly a week before that the Carthusians had +been condemned, for refusing to acknowledge the King as head of the +English Church, but it had been scarcely possible to believe that the +sentence would be carried out, and Chris felt the blood beat in his +temples and his lips turn suddenly dry as he heard the news.</p> + +<p>“I was there, my Lord Prior,” said the monk.</p> + +<p>He was a middle-aged man, genial and plump, but his face was white and +anxious now, and his mouth worked. “They were hanged in their habits,” +he went on. “Prior Houghton was the first despatched;” and he added a +terrible detail or two.</p> + +<p>“Will you see the place, my Lord Prior?” he said, “You can ride there. +Your palfrey is still at the door.”</p> + +<p>Prior Robert Crowham looked at him a moment with pursed lips; and then +shook his head violently.</p> + +<p>“No, no,” he said. “I—I must see to the house.” The monk looked at +Chris.</p> + +<p>“May I go, my Lord Prior?” he asked.</p> + +<p>The Prior stared at him a moment, in a desperate effort to fix his +attention; then nodded sharply and wheeled round to the door that led to +the upper rooms.</p> + +<p>“Mother of God!” he said. “Mother of God!” and went out.</p> + +<p>Chris went through with the strange priest, down the hall and out into +the porch again. The others were standing there, fearful and whispering, +and opened out to let the two monks pass through.</p> + +<p>Chris had been tired and hot when he arrived, but he was conscious now +of no sensation but of an overmastering desire to see the place; he +passed straight by his horse that still stood with a servant at his +head, and turned up instinctively toward the river.</p> + +<p>The monk called after him.</p> + +<p>“There, there,” he cried, “not so fast—we have plenty of time.”</p> + +<p>They took a wherry at the stairs and pushed out with the stream. The +waterman was a merry-looking man who spoke no word but whistled to +himself cheerfully as he laid himself to the oars, and the boat began to +move slantingly across the flowing tide. He looked at the monks now and +again; but Chris was seated, staring out with eyes that saw nothing down +the broad stream away to where the cathedral rose gigantic and graceful +on the other side. It was the first time he had been in London since a +couple of years before his profession, but the splendour and strength of +the city was nothing to him now. It only had one significance to his +mind, and that that it had been this day the scene of a martyrdom. His +mind that had so long lived in the inner world, moving among +supernatural things, was struggling desperately to adjust itself.</p> + +<p>Once or twice his lips moved, and his hands clenched themselves under +his scapular; but he saw and heard nothing; and did not even turn his +head when a barge swept past them, and a richly dressed man leaned from +the stern and shouted something mockingly. The other monk looked +nervously and deprecatingly up, for he heard the taunting threat across +the water that the Carthusians were a good riddance, and that there +would be more to follow.</p> + +<p>They landed at the Blackfriars stairs, paid the man, who was still +whistling as he took the money, and passed up by the little stream that +flowed into the river, striking off to the left presently, and leaving +the city behind them. They were soon out again on the long straight road +that led to Tyburn, for Chris walked desperately fast, paying little +heed to his companion except at the corners when he had to wait to know +the way; and presently Tyburn-gate began to raise its head high against +the sky.</p> + +<p>Once the strange monk, whose name Chris had not even troubled to ask, +plucked him by his hanging sleeve.</p> + +<p>“The hurdles came along here,” he said; and Chris looked at him vacantly +as if he did not understand.</p> + +<p>Then they were under Tyburn-gate, and the clump of elms stood before +them.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was a wide open space, dusty now and trampled.</p> + +<p>What grass there had been in patches by the two little streams that +flowed together here, was crushed and flat under foot. The elms cast +long shadows from the west, and birds were chirping in the branches; +there was a group or two of people here and there looking curiously +about them. A man’s voice came across the open space, explaining; and +his arm rose and wheeled and pointed and paused—three or four children +hung together, frightened and interested.</p> + +<p>But Chris saw little of all this. He had no eyes for the passing +details; they were fixed on the low mound that rose fifty yards away, +and the three tall posts, placed in a triangle and united by +cross-beams, that stood on it, gaunt against the sky.</p> + +<p>As he came nearer to it, walking as one in a dream across the dusty +ground and trampled grass, and paying no heed to the priest behind him +who whispered with an angry nervousness, he was aware of the ends of +three or four ropes that hung motionless from the beams in the still +evening air; and with his eyes fixed on these in exaltation and terror +he stumbled up the sloping ground and came beneath them.</p> + +<p>There was a great peace round him as he stood there, stroking one of +the uprights with a kind of mechanical tenderness; the men were silent +as they saw the two monks there, and watched to see what they would do.</p> + +<p>The towers of Tyburn-gate rose a hundred yards away, empty now, but +crowded this morning; and behind them the long road with the fields and +great mansions on this side and that, leading down to the city in front +and Westminster on the right, those two dens of the tiger that had +snarled so fiercely a few hours before, as she licked her lips red with +martyrs’ blood. It was indescribably peaceful now; there was no sound +but the birds overhead, and the soft breeze in the young leaves, and the +trickle of the streams defiled to-day, but running clean and guiltless +now; and the level sunlight lay across the wide flat ground and threw +the shadow of the mound and gallows nearly to the foot of the gate.</p> + +<p>But to Chris the place was alive with phantoms; the empty space had +vanished, and a sea of faces seemed turned up to him; he fancied that +there were figures about him, watching him too, brushing his sleeve, +faces looking into his eyes, waiting for some action or word from him. +For a moment his sense of identity was lost; the violence of the +associations, and perhaps even the power of the emotions that had been +wrought there that day, crushed out his personality; it was surely he +who was here to suffer; all else was a dream and an illusion. From his +very effort of living in eternity, a habit had been formed that now +asserted itself; the laws of time and space and circumstance for the +moment ceased to exist; and he found himself for an eternal instant +facing his own agony and death.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Then with a rush facts re-asserted themselves, and he started and +looked round as the monk touched him on the arm.</p> + +<p>“You have seen it,” he said in a sharp undertone, “it is enough. We +shall be attacked.” Chris paid him no heed beyond a look, and turned +once more.</p> + +<p>It was here that they had suffered, these gallant knights of God; they +had stood below these beams, their feet on the cart that was their +chariot of glory, their necks in the rope that would be their heavenly +badge; they had looked out where he was looking as they made their +little speeches, over the faces to Tyburn-gate, with the same sun that +was now behind him, shining into their eyes.</p> + +<p>He still stroked the rough beam; and as the details came home, and he +remembered that it was this that had borne their weight, he leaned and +kissed it; and a flood of tears blinded him.</p> + +<p>Again the priest pulled his sleeve sharply.</p> + +<p>“For God’s sake, brother!” he said.</p> + +<p>Chris turned to him.</p> + +<p>“The cauldron,” he said; “where was that?”</p> + +<p>The priest made an impatient movement, but pointed to one side, away +from where the men were standing still watching them; and Chris saw +below, by the side of one of the streams a great blackened patch of +ground, and a heap of ashes.</p> + +<p>The two went down there, for the other monk was thankful to get to any +less conspicuous place; and Chris presently found himself standing on +the edge of the black patch, with the trampled mud and grass beyond it +beside the stream. The grey wood ashes had drifted by now far across the +ground, but the heavy logs still lay there, charred and smoked, that had +blazed beneath the cauldron where the limbs of the monks had been +seethed; and he stared down at them, numbed and fascinated by the +horror of the thought. His mind, now in a violent reaction, seemed +unable to cope with its own knowledge, crushed beneath its weight; and +his friend heard him repeating with a low monotonous insistence—</p> + +<p>“Here it was,” he said, “here; here was the cauldron; it was here.”</p> + +<p>Then he turned and looked into his friend’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“It was here,” he said; “are you sure it was here?”</p> + +<p>The other made an impatient sound.</p> + +<p>“Where else?” he said sharply. “Come, brother, you have seen enough.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He told him more details as they walked home; as to what each had said, +and how each had borne himself. Father Reynolds, the Syon monk, had +looked gaily about him, it seemed, as he walked up from the hurdle; the +secular priest had turned pale and shut his eyes more than once; the +three Carthusian priors had been unmoved throughout, showing neither +carelessness nor fear; Prior Houghton’s arm had been taken off to the +London Charterhouse as a terror to the others; their heads, he had +heard, were on London Bridge.</p> + +<p>Chris walked slowly as he listened, holding tight under his scapular the +scrap of rough white cloth he had picked up near the cauldron, drinking +in every detail, and painting it into the mental picture that was +forming in his mind; but there was much more in the picture than the +other guessed.</p> + +<p>The priest was a plain man, with a talent for the practical, and knew +nothing of the vision that the young monk beside him was seeing—of the +air about the gallows crowded with the angels of the Agony and Passion, +waiting to bear off the straggling souls in their tender experienced +hands; of the celestial faces looking down, the scarred and glorious +arms stretched out in welcome; of Mary with her mother’s eyes, and her +virgins about her—all ring above ring in deepening splendour up to the +white blinding light above, where the Everlasting Trinity lay poised in +love and glory to receive and crown the stalwart soldiers of God.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI<br><span class="small">A CLOSING-IN</span></h2></div> + + +<p>Ralph kept his resolution to pretend to try and save Sir Thomas More, +and salved his own conscience by protesting to Beatrice that his efforts +were bound to fail, and that he had no influence such as she imagined. +He did certainly more than once remark to Cromwell that Sir Thomas was a +pleasant and learned man, and had treated him kindly, and once had gone +so far as to say that he did not see that any good would be served by +his death; but he had been sharply rebuked, and told to mind his own +business; then, softening, Cromwell had explained that there was no +question of death for the present; but that More’s persistent refusal to +yield to the pressure of events was a standing peril to the King’s +policy.</p> + +<p>This policy had now shaped itself more clearly. In the autumn of ’34 the +bill for the King’s supremacy over the Church of England began to take +form; and Ralph had several sights of the documents as all business of +this kind now flowed through Cromwell’s hands, and he was filled with +admiration and at the same time with perplexity at the adroitness of the +wording. It was very short, and affected to assume rather than to enact +its object.</p> + +<p>“Albeit the King’s Majesty justly and rightfully is and ought to be,” it +began, “the supreme head of the Church of England, and so is recognised +by the clergy of this realm in their Convocations, yet, nevertheless, +for corroboration and confirmation thereof ... and to repress and extirp +all errors, heresies and other enormities ... be it enacted by authority +of this present Parliament that the King our sovereign lord ... shall be +taken, accepted, and reputed the only supreme head in earth of the +Church of England, called <i>Anglicans Ecclesia</i>.” The bill then proceeded +to confer on him a plenitude of authority over both temporal and +spiritual causes.</p> + +<p>There was here considerable skill in the manner of its drawing up, which +it owed chiefly to Cromwell; for it professed only to re-state a matter +that had slipped out of notice, and appealed to the authority of +Convocation which had, truly, under Warham allowed a resolution to the +same effect, though qualified by the clause, “as far as God’s law +permits,” to pass in silence.</p> + +<p>Ralph was puzzled by it: he was led to believe that it could contain no +very radical change from the old belief, since the clergy had in a sense +already submitted to it; and, on the other hand, the word “the only +supreme head in earth” seemed not only to assert the Crown’s civil +authority over the temporalities of the Church, but to exclude +definitely all jurisdiction on the part of the Pope.</p> + +<p>“It is the assertion of a principle,” Cromwell said to him when he asked +one day for an explanation; “a principle that has always been held in +England; it is not intended to be precise or detailed: that will follow +later.”</p> + +<p>Ralph was no theologian, and did not greatly care what the bill did or +did not involve. He was, too, in that temper of inchoate agnosticism +that was sweeping England at the time, and any scruples that he had in +his more superstitious moments were lulled by the knowledge that the +clergy had acquiesced. What appeared more important to him than any +hair-splittings on the exact provinces of the various authorities in +question, was the necessity of some step towards the crippling of the +spiritual empire whose hands were so heavy, and whose demands so +imperious. He felt, as an Englishman, resentful of the leading strings +in which, so it seemed to him, Rome wished to fetter his country.</p> + +<p>The bill passed through parliament on November the eighteenth.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Ralph lost no opportunity of impressing upon Beatrice how much he had +risked for the sake of her friend in the Tower, and drew very moving +sketches of his own peril.</p> + +<p>The two were sitting together in the hall at Chelsea one winters evening +soon after Christmas. The high panelling was relieved by lines of +greenery, with red berries here and there; a bunch of mistletoe leaned +forward over the sloping mantelpiece, and there was an acrid smell of +holly and laurel in the air. It was a little piteous, Ralph thought, +under the circumstances.</p> + +<p>Another stage had been passed in More’s journey towards death, in the +previous month, when he had been attainted of misprision of treason by +an act designed to make good the illegality of his former conviction, +and the end was beginning to loom clear.</p> + +<p>“I said it would be no use, Mistress Beatrice, and it is none—Master +Cromwell will not hear a word.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice looked up at Ralph, and down again, as her manner was. Her +hands were lying on her lap perfectly still as she sat upright in her +tall chair.</p> + +<p>“You have done what you could, I know,” she said, softly.</p> + +<p>“Master Cromwell did not take it very well,” went on Ralph with an +appearance of resolute composure, “but that was to be expected.”</p> + +<p>Again she looked up, and Ralph once more was seized with the desire to +precipitate matters and tell her what was in his heart, but he repressed +it, knowing it was useless to speak yet.</p> + +<p>It was a very stately and slow wooing, like the movement of a minuet; +each postured to each, not from any insincerity, except perhaps a little +now and then on Ralph’s side, but because for both it was a natural mode +of self-expression. It was an age of dignity abruptly broken here and +there by violence. There were slow and gorgeous pageants followed by +brutal and bestial scenes, like the life of a peacock who paces +composedly in the sun and then scuttles and screams in the evening. But +with these two at present there was no occasion for abruptness, and +Ralph, at any rate, contemplated with complacency his own graciousness +and grandeur, and the skilfully posed tableaux in which he took such a +sedate part.</p> + +<p>As the spring drew on and the crocuses began to star the grass along the +river and the sun to wheel wider and wider, the chill and the darkness +began to fall more heavily on the household at Chelsea. They were +growing very poor by now; most of Sir Thomas’s possessions elsewhere had +been confiscated by the King, though by his clemency Chelsea was still +left to Mrs. Alice for the present; and one by one the precious things +began to disappear from the house as they were sold to obtain +necessaries. All the private fortune of Mrs. More had gone by the end of +the winter, and her son still owed great sums to the Government on +behalf of his father.</p> + +<p>At the beginning of May she told Ralph that she was making another +appeal to Cromwell for help, and begged him to forward her petition.</p> + +<p>“My silks are all gone,” she said, “and the little gold chain and cross +that you may remember, Mr. Torridon, went last month, too—I cannot tell +what we shall do. Mr. More is so obstinate”—and her eyes filled with +tears—“and we have to pay fifteen shillings every week for him and John +a’ Wood.”</p> + +<p>She looked so helpless and feeble as she sat in the window seat, +stripped now of its tapestry cushions, with the roofs of the New +Building rising among its trees at the back, where her husband had +walked a year ago with such delight, that Ralph felt a touch of +compunction, and promised to do his best.</p> + +<p>He said a word to Cromwell that evening as he supped with him at +Hackney, and his master looked at him curiously, sitting forward in the +carved chair he had had from Wolsey, in his satin gown, twisting the +stem of his German glass in his ringed fingers.</p> + +<p>“And what do you wish me to do, sir?” he asked Ralph with a kind of +pungent irony.</p> + +<p>Ralph explained that he scarcely knew himself; perhaps a word to his +Grace—</p> + +<p>“I will tell you what it is, Mr. Torridon,” broke in his master, “you +have made another mistake. I did not intend you to be their friend, but +to seem so.”</p> + +<p>“I can scarcely seem so,” said Ralph quietly, but with a certain +indignation at his heart, “unless I do them little favours sometimes.”</p> + +<p>“You need not seem so any longer,” said Cromwell drily, “the time is +past.”</p> + +<p>And he set his glass down and sat back.</p> + +<p>Yet Ralph’s respect and admiration for his master became no less. He had +the attractiveness of extreme and unscrupulous capability. It gave Ralph +the same joy to watch him as he found in looking on at an expert fencer; +he was so adroit and strong and ready; mighty and patient in defence, +watchful for opportunities of attack and merciless when they came. His +admirers scarcely gave a thought to the piteousness of the adversary; +they were absorbed in the scheme and proud to be included in it; and men +of heart and sensibility were as hard as their master when they carried +out his plans.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The fate of the Carthusians would have touched Ralph if he had been a +mere onlooker, as it touched so many others, but he had to play his part +in the tragedy, and was astonished at the quick perceptions of Cromwell +and his determined brutality towards these peaceful contemplatives whom +he recognised as a danger-centre against the King’s policy.</p> + +<p>He was present first in Cromwell’s house when the three Carthusian +priors of Beauvale, Axholme and London called upon him of their own +accord to put their questions on the meaning of the King’s supremacy: +but their first question, as to how was it possible for a layman to hold +the keys of the kingdom of heaven was enough, and without any further +evidence they were sent to the Tower.</p> + +<p>Then, again, he was present in the Court of the Rolls a few days later +when Dom Laurence, of Beauvale, and Dom Webster, of Axholme, were +examined once more. There were seven or eight others present, laymen and +ecclesiastics, and the priors were once more sent back to the Tower.</p> + +<p>And so examination after examination went on, and no answer could be got +out of the monks, but that they could never reconcile it with their +conscience to accept the King to be what the Act of Supremacy declared +that he was.</p> + +<p>Ralph’s curiosity took him down to the Charterhouse one day shortly +before the execution of the priors; he had with him an order from +Cromwell that carried him everywhere he wished to go; but he did not +penetrate too deeply. He was astonished at the impression that the place +made on him.</p> + +<p>As he passed up the Great Cloister there was no sound but from a bird or +two singing in the afternoon sunlight of the garth; each cell-door, with +its hatch for the passage of food, was closed and silent; and Ralph felt +a curious quickening of his heart as he thought of the human life passed +in the little houses, each with its tiny garden, its workshop, its two +rooms, and its paved ambulatory, in which each solitary lived. How +strangely apart this place was from the buzz of business from which he +had come! And yet he knew very well that the whole was as good as +condemned already.</p> + +<p>He wondered to himself how they had taken the news of the tragedy that +was beginning—those white, demure men with shaved heads and faces, and +downcast eyes. He reflected what the effect of that news must be; as it +penetrated each day, like a stone dropped softly into a pool, leaving no +ripple. There, behind each brown door, he fancied to himself, a strange +alchemy was proceeding, in which each new terror and threat from outside +was received into the crucible of a beating heart and transmuted by +prayer and welcome into some wonderful jewel of glory—at least so these +poor men believed; and Ralph indignantly told himself it was nonsense; +they were idlers and dreamers. He reminded himself of a sneer he had +heard against the barrels of Spanish wine that were taken in week by +week at the monastery door; if these men ate no flesh too, at least they +had excellent omelettes.</p> + +<p>But as he passed at last through the lay-brothers’ choir and stood +looking through the gates of the Fathers’ choir up to the rich altar +with its hangings and its posts on either side crowned with gilded +angels bearing candles, to the splendid window overhead, against which, +as in a glory, hung the motionless silk-draped pyx, the awe fell on him +again.</p> + +<p>This was the place where they met, these strange, silent men; every +panel and stone was saturated with the prayers of experts, offered three +times a day—in the night-office of two or three hours when the world +was asleep; at the chapter-mass; and at Vespers in the afternoon.</p> + +<p>His heart again stirred a little, superstitiously he angrily told +himself, at the memory of the stories that were whispered about in town.</p> + +<p>Two years ago, men said, a comet had been seen shining over the house. +As the monks went back from matins, each with his lantern in his hand, +along the dark cloister, a ray had shot out from the comet, had glowed +upon the church and bell-tower, and died again into darkness. Again, a +little later, two monks, one in his cell-garden and the other in the +cemetery, had seen a blood-red globe, high and menacing, hanging in the +air over the house.</p> + +<p>Lastly, at Pentecost, at the mass of the Holy Ghost, offered at the end +of a triduum with the intention of winning grace to meet any sacrifice +that might be demanded, not one nor two, but the whole community, +including the lay-brothers outside the Fathers’ Choir, had perceived a +soft whisper of music of inexpressible sweetness that came and went +overhead at the Elevation. The celebrant bowed forward in silence over +the altar, unable to continue the mass, the monks remained petrified +with joy and awe in their stalls.</p> + +<p>Ralph stared once more at the altar as he remembered this tale; at the +row of stalls on either side, the dark roof overhead, the glowing glass +on either side and in front—and asked himself whether it was true, +whether God had spoken, whether a chink of the heavenly gate had been +opened here to let the music escape.</p> + +<p>It was not true, he told himself; it was the dream of a man mad with +sleeplessness, foolish with fasting and discipline and vigils: one had +dreamed it and babbled of it to the rest and none had liked to be less +spiritual or perceptive of divine manifestations.</p> + +<p>A brown figure was by the altar now to light the candles for Vespers; a +taper was in his hand, and the spot of light at the end moved like a +star against the gilding and carving. Ralph turned and went out.</p> + +<p>Then on the fourth of May he was present at the execution of the three +priors and the two other priests at Tyburn. There was an immense crowd +there, nearly the whole Court being present; and it was reported here +and there afterwards that the King himself was there in a group of five +horsemen, who came in the accoutrements of Borderers, vizored and armed, +and took up their position close to the scaffold. There fell a terrible +silence as the monks were dragged up on the hurdles, in their habits, +all three together behind one horse. They were cut down almost at once, +and the butchery was performed on them while they were still alive.</p> + +<p>Ralph went home in a glow of resolution against them. A tragedy such as +that which he had seen was of necessity a violent motive one way or the +other, and it found him determined that the sufferers were in the wrong, +and left him confirmed in his determination. Their very passivity +enraged him.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, he had of course heard nothing of his brother’s presence in +London, and it was with something of a shock that on the next afternoon +he heard the news from Mr. Morris that Mr. Christopher was below and +waiting for him in the parlour.</p> + +<p>As he went down he wondered what Chris was doing in London, and what he +himself could say to him. He was expecting Beatrice, too, to call upon +him presently with her maid to give him a message and a bundle of +letters which he had promised to convey to Sir Thomas More. But he was +determined to be kind to his brother.</p> + +<p>Chris was standing in his black monk’s habit on the other side of the +walnut table, beside the fire-place, and made no movement as Ralph came +forward smiling and composed. His face was thinner than his brother +remembered it, clean-shaven now, with hollows in the cheeks, and his +eyes were strangely light.</p> + +<p>“Why, Chris!” said Ralph, and stopped, astonished at the other’s +motionlessness.</p> + +<p>Then Chris came round the table with a couple of swift steps, his hands +raised a little from the wide, drooping sleeves.</p> + +<p>“Ah! brother,” he said, “I have come to bring you away: this is a wicked +place.”</p> + +<p>Ralph was so amazed that he fell back a step.</p> + +<p>“Are you mad?” he said coldly enough, but he felt a twitch of +superstitious fear at his heart.</p> + +<p>Chris seized the rich silk sleeve in both his hands, and Ralph felt them +trembling and nervous.</p> + +<p>“You must come away,” he said, “for Jesu’s sake, brother! You must not +lose your soul.”</p> + +<p>Ralph felt the old contempt surge up and drown his fear. The familiarity +of his brother’s presence weighed down the religious suggestion of his +habit and office. This is what he had feared and almost expected;—that +the cloister would make a fanatic of this fantastic brother of his.</p> + +<p>He glanced round at the door that he had left open, but the house was +silent. Then he turned again.</p> + +<p>“Sit down, Chris,” he said, with a strong effort at self-command, and he +pulled his sleeve away, went back and shut the door, and then came +forward past where his brother was standing, to the chair that stood +with its back to the window.</p> + +<p>“You must not be fond and wild,” he said decidedly. “Sit down, Chris.”</p> + +<p>The monk came past him to the other side of the hearth, and faced him +again, but did not sit down. He remained standing by the fire-place, +looking down at Ralph, who was in his chair with crossed legs.</p> + +<p>“What is this folly?” said Ralph again.</p> + +<p>Chris stared down at him a moment in silence.</p> + +<p>“Why, why—” he began, and ceased.</p> + +<p>Ralph felt himself the master of the situation, and determined to be +paternal.</p> + +<p>“My dear lad,” he said, “you have dreamed yourself mad at Lewes. When +did you come to London?”</p> + +<p>“Yesterday,” said Chris, still with that strange stare.</p> + +<p>“Why, then—” began Ralph.</p> + +<p>“Yes—you think I was too late, but I saw it,” said Chris; “I was there +in the evening and saw it all again.”</p> + +<p>All his nervous tension seemed relaxed by the warm common-sense +atmosphere of this trim little room, and his brother’s composure. His +lips were beginning to tremble, and he half turned and gripped the +mantel-shelf with his right hand. Ralph noticed with a kind of +contemptuous pity how the heavy girded folds of the frock seemed to +contain nothing, and that the wrist from which the sleeve had fallen +back was slender as a reed. Ralph felt himself so infinitely his +brother’s superior that he could afford to be generous and kindly.</p> + +<p>“Dear Chris,” he said, smiling, “you look starved and miserable. Shall I +tell Morris to bring you something? I thought you monks fared better +than that.”</p> + +<p>In a moment Chris was on his knees on the rushes; his hands gripped his +brother’s arms, and his wild eyes were staring up with a fanatical fire +of entreaty in them. His words broke out like a torrent.</p> + +<p>“Ralph,” he said, “dear brother! for Jesu’s sake, come away! I have +heard everything. I know that these streets are red with blood, and that +your hands have been dipped in it. You must not lose your soul. I know +everything; you must come away. For Jesu’s sake!”</p> + +<p>Ralph tore himself free and stood up, pushing back his chair.</p> + +<p>“Godbody!” he said, “I have a fool for a brother. Stand up, sir. I will +have no mumming in my house.”</p> + +<p>He rapped his foot fiercely on the floor, staring down at Chris who had +thrown himself back on his heels.</p> + +<p>“Stand up, sir,” he said again.</p> + +<p>“Will you hear me, brother?”</p> + +<p>Ralph hesitated.</p> + +<p>“I will hear you if you will talk reason. I think you are mad.”</p> + +<p>Chris got up again. He was trembling violently, and his hands twitched +and clenched by his sides.</p> + +<p>“Then you shall hear me,” he said, and his voice shook as he spoke. “It +is this—”</p> + +<p>“You must sit down,” interrupted Ralph, and he pointed to the chair +behind.</p> + +<p>Chris went to it and sat down. Ralph took a step across to the door and +opened it.</p> + +<p>“Morris,” he called, and came back to his chair.</p> + +<p>There was silence a moment or two, till the servant’s step sounded in +the hall, and the door opened. Mr. Morris’s discreet face looked +steadily and composedly at his master.</p> + +<p>“Bring the pasty,” said Ralph, “and the wine.”</p> + +<p>He gave the servant a sharp look, seemed to glance out across the hall +for a moment and back again. There was no answering look on Mr. Morris’s +face, but he slipped out softly, leaving the door just ajar.</p> + +<p>Then Ralph turned to Chris again.</p> + +<p>Chris had had time to recover himself by now, and was sitting very pale +and composed after his dramatic outburst, his hands hidden under his +scapular, and his fingers gripped together.</p> + +<p>“Now tell me,” said Ralph, with his former kindly contempt. He had begun +to understand now what his brother had come about, and was determined to +be at once fatherly and decisive. This young fool must be taught his +place.</p> + +<p>“It is this,” said Chris, still in a trembling voice, but it grew +steadier as he went on. “God’s people are being persecuted—there is no +longer any doubt. They were saints who died yesterday, and Master +Cromwell is behind it all; and—and you serve him.”</p> + +<p>Ralph jerked his head to speak, but his brother went on.</p> + +<p>“I know you think me a fool, and I daresay you are right. But this I +know, I would sooner be a fool than—than—”</p> + +<p>—“than a knave” ended Ralph. “I thank you for your good opinion, my +brother. However, let that pass. You have come to teach me my business, +then?”</p> + +<p>“I have come to save your soul,” said Chris, grasping the arms of his +chair, and eyeing him steadily.</p> + +<p>“You are very good to me,” said Ralph bitterly. “Now, I do not want any +more play-acting—” He broke off suddenly as the door opened. “And here +is the food. Chris, you are not yourself”—he gave a swift look at his +servant again—“and I suppose you have had no food to-day.”</p> + +<p>Again he glanced out through the open door as Mr. Morris turned to go.</p> + +<p>Chris paid no sort of attention to the food. He seemed not to have seen +the servant’s entrance and departure.</p> + +<p>“I tell you,” he said again steadily, with his wide bright eyes fixed on +his brother, “I tell you, you are persecuting God’s people, and I am +come, not as your brother only, but as a monk, to warn you.”</p> + +<p>Ralph waved his hand, smiling, towards the dish and the bottle. It +seemed to sting Chris with a kind of fury, for his eyes blazed and his +mouth tightened as he stood up abruptly.</p> + +<p>“I tell you that if I were starving I would not break bread in this +house: it is the house of God’s enemy.”</p> + +<p>He dashed out his left hand nervously, and struck the bottle spinning +across the table; it crashed over on to the floor, and the red wine +poured on to the boards.</p> + +<p>“Why, there is blood before your eyes,” he screamed, mad with hunger and +sleeplessness, and the horrors he had seen; “the ground cries out.”</p> + +<p>Ralph had sprung up as the bottle fell, and stood trembling and glaring +across at the monk; the door opened softly, and Mr. Morris stood alert +and discreet on the threshold, but neither saw him.</p> + +<p>“And if you were ten times my brother,” cried Chris, “I would not touch +your hand.”</p> + +<p>There came a knocking at the door, and the servant disappeared.</p> + +<p>“Let him come, if it be the King himself,” shouted the monk, “and hear +the truth for once.”</p> + +<p>The servant was pushed aside protesting, and Beatrice came straight +forward into the room.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII<br><span class="small">A RECOVERY</span></h2></div> + + +<p>There was a moment of intense silence, only emphasized by the settling +rustle of the girl’s dress. The door had closed softly, and Mr. Morris +stood within, in the shadow by the window, ready to give help if it were +needed. Beatrice remained a yard inside the room, very upright and +dignified, a little pale, looking from one to the other of the two +brothers, who stared back at her as at a ghost.</p> + +<p>Ralph spoke first, swallowing once or twice in his throat before +speaking, and trying to smile.</p> + +<p>“It is you then,” he said.</p> + +<p>Beatrice moved a step nearer, looking at Chris, who stood white and +tense, his eyes wide and burning.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Torridon,” said Beatrice softly, “I have brought the bundle. My +woman has it.”</p> + +<p>Still she looked, as she spoke, questioningly at Chris.</p> + +<p>“Oh! this is my brother, the monk,” snapped Ralph bitterly, glancing at +him. “Indeed, he is.”</p> + +<p>Then Chris lost his self-control again.</p> + +<p>“And this is my brother, the murderer; indeed, he is.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice’s lips parted, and her eyes winced. She put out her hand +hesitatingly towards Ralph, and dropped it again as he moved a little +towards her.</p> + +<p>“You hear him?” said Ralph.</p> + +<p>“I do not understand,” said the girl, “your brother—”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I am his brother, God help me,” snarled Chris.</p> + +<p>Beatrice’s lips closed again, and a look of contempt came into her +face.</p> + +<p>“I have heard enough, Mr. Torridon. Will you come with me?”</p> + +<p>Chris moved forward a step.</p> + +<p>“I do not know who you are, madam,” he said, “but do you understand what +this gentleman is? Do you know that he is a creature of Master +Cromwell’s?”</p> + +<p>“I know everything,” said Beatrice.</p> + +<p>“And you were at Tyburn, too?” questioned Chris bitterly, “perhaps with +this brother of mine?”</p> + +<p>Beatrice faced him defiantly.</p> + +<p>“What have you to say against him, sir?”</p> + +<p>Ralph made a movement to speak, but the girl checked him.</p> + +<p>“I wish to hear it. What have you to say?”</p> + +<p>“He is a creature of Cromwell’s who plotted the death of God’s saints. +This brother of mine was at the examinations, I hear, and at the +scaffold. Is that enough?”</p> + +<p>Chris had himself under control again by now, but his words seemed to +burn with vitriol. His lips writhed as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Beatrice.</p> + +<p>“Well, if that is not enough; how of More and my Lord of Rochester?”</p> + +<p>“He has been a good friend to Mr. More,” said Beatrice, “that I know.”</p> + +<p>“He will get him the martyr’s crown, surely,” sneered Chris.</p> + +<p>“And you have no more to say?” asked the girl quietly.</p> + +<p>A shudder ran over the monk’s body; his mouth opened and closed, and the +fire in his eyes flared up and died; his clenched hands rose and fell. +Then he spoke quietly.</p> + +<p>“I have no more to say, madam.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice moved across to Ralph, and put her hand on his arm, looking +steadily at Chris. Ralph laid his other hand on hers a moment, then +raised it, and made an abrupt motion towards the door.</p> + +<p>Chris went round the table; Mr. Morris opened the door with an impassive +face, and followed him out, leaving Beatrice and Ralph alone.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Chris had come back the previous evening from Tyburn distracted almost +to madness. He had sat heavily all the evening by himself, brooding and +miserable, and had not slept all night, but waking visions had moved +continually before his eyes, as he turned to and fro on his narrow bed +in the unfamiliar room. Again and again Tyburn was before him, peopled +with phantoms; he had seen the thick ropes, and heard their creaking, +and the murmur of the multitude; had smelt the pungent wood-smoke and +the thick drifting vapour from the cauldron. Once it seemed to him that +the very room was full of figures, white-clad and silent, who watched +him with impassive pale faces, remote and unconcerned. He had flung +himself on his knees again and again, had lashed himself with the +discipline that he, too, might taste of pain; but all the serenity of +divine things was gone. There was no heaven, no Saviour, no love. He was +bound down here, crushed and stifled in this apostate city whose sounds +and cries came up into his cell. He had lost the fiery vision of the +conqueror’s welcome; it was like a tale heard long ago. Now he was +beaten down by physical facts, by the gross details of the tragedy, the +strangling, the blood, the smoke, the acrid smell of the crowd, and +heaven was darkened by the vapour.</p> + +<p>It was not until the next day, as he sat with the Prior and a stranger +or two, and heard the tale once more, and the predictions about More and +Fisher, that the significance of Ralph’s position appeared to him +clearly. He knew no more than before, but he suddenly understood what he +knew.</p> + +<p>A monk had said a word of Cromwell’s share in the matters, and the Prior +had glanced moodily at Chris for a moment, turning his eyes only as he +sat with his chin in his hand; and in a moment Chris understood.</p> + +<p>This was the work that his brother was doing. He sat now more distracted +than ever: mental pictures moved before him of strange council-rooms +with great men in silk on raised seats, and Ralph was among them. He +seemed to hear his bitter questions that pierced to the root of the +faith of the accused, and exposed it to the world, of their adherence to +the Vicar of Christ, their uncompromising convictions.</p> + +<p>He had sat through dinner with burning eyes, but the Prior noticed +nothing, for he himself was in a passion of absorption, and gave Chris a +hasty leave as he rose from table to go and see his brother if he +wished.</p> + +<p>Chris had walked up and down his room that afternoon, framing sentences +of appeal and pity and terror, but it was useless: he could not fix his +mind; and he had gone off at last to Westminster at once terrified for +Ralph’s soul, and blazing with indignation against him.</p> + +<p>And now he was walking down to the river again, in the cool of the +evening, knowing that he had ruined his own cause and his right to speak +by his intemperate fury.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was another strange evening that he passed in the Prior’s chamber +after supper. The same monk, Dom Odo, who had taken him to Tyburn the +day before, was there again; and Chris sat in a corner, with the +reaction of his fury on him, spent and feverish, now rehearsing the +scene he had gone through with Ralph, and framing new sentences that he +might have used, now listening to the talk, and vaguely gathering its +meaning.</p> + +<p>It seemed that the tale of blood was only begun.</p> + +<p>Bedale, the Archdeacon of Cornwall, had gone that day to the +Charterhouse; he had been seen driving there, and getting out at the +door with a bundle of books under his arm, and he had passed in through +the gate over which Prior Houghton’s arm had been hung on the previous +evening. It was expected that some more arrests would be made +immediately.</p> + +<p>“As for my Lord of Rochester,” said the monk, who seemed to revel in the +business of bearing bad news, “and Master More, I make no doubt they +will be cast. They are utterly fixed in their opinions. I hear that my +lord is very sick, and I pray that God may take him to Himself. He is +made Cardinal in Rome, I hear; but his Grace has sworn that he shall +have no head to wear the hat upon.”</p> + +<p>Then he went off into talk upon the bishop, describing his sufferings in +the Tower, for he was over eighty years old, and had scarcely sufficient +clothes to cover him.</p> + +<p>Now and again Chris looked across at his Superior. The Prior sat there +in his great chair, his head on his hand, silent and absorbed; it was +only when Dom Odo stopped for a moment that he glanced up impatiently +and nodded for him to go on. It seemed as if he could not hear enough, +and yet Chris saw him wince, and heard him breathe sharply as each new +detail came out.</p> + +<p>The monk told them, too, of Prior Houghton’s speech upon the cart.</p> + +<p>“They asked him whether even then he would submit to the King’s laws, +and he called God to witness that it was not for obstinacy or perversity +that he refused, but that the King and the Parliament had decreed +otherwise than our Holy Mother enjoins; and that for himself he would +sooner suffer every kind of pain than deny a doctrine of the Church. And +when he had prayed from the thirtieth Psalm, he was turned off.”</p> + +<p>The Prior stared almost vacantly at the monk who told his story with a +kind of terrified gusto, and once or twice his lips moved to speak; but +he was silent, and dropped his chin upon his hand again when the other +had done.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Chris scarcely knew how the days passed away that followed his arrival +in London. He spent them for the most part within doors, writing for the +Prior in the mornings, or keeping watch over the door as his Superior +talked with prelates and churchmen within, for ecclesiastical London was +as busy as a broken ant-hill, and men came and went continually—scared, +furtive monks, who looked this way and that, an abbot or two up for the +House of Lords, priors and procurators on business. There were continual +communications going to and fro among the religious houses, for the +prince of them, the contemplative Carthusian, had been struck at, and no +one knew where the assault would end.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Chris had heard no further news from Ralph. He thought of +writing to him, and even of visiting him again, but his heart sickened +at the thought of it. It was impossible, he told himself, that any +communication should pass between them until his brother had forsaken +his horrible business; the first sign of regret must come from the one +who had sinned. He wondered sometimes who the girl was, and, as a +hot-headed monk, suspected the worst. A man who could live as Ralph was +living could have no morals left. She had been so friendly with him, so +ready to defend him, so impatient, Chris thought, of any possibility of +wrong. No doubt she, too, was one of the corrupt band, one of the great +ladies that buzzed round the Court, and sucked the blood of God’s +people.</p> + +<p>His own interior life, however, so roughly broken by his new +experiences, began to mend slowly as the days went on.</p> + +<p>He had begun, like a cat in a new house, to make himself slowly at home +in the hostel, and to set up that relation between outward objects and +his own self that is so necessary to interior souls not yet living in +detachment. He arranged his little room next the Prior’s to be as much +as possible like his cell, got rid of one or two pieces of furniture +that distracted him, set his bed in another corner, and hung up his +beads in the same position that they used to occupy at Lewes. Each +morning he served the Prior’s mass in the tiny chapel attached to the +house, and did his best both then and at his meditation to draw in the +torn fibres of his spirit. At moments of worship the supernatural world +began to appear again, like points of living rock emerging through sand, +detached and half stifled by external details, but real and abiding. +Little by little his serenity came back, and the old atmosphere +reasserted itself. After all, God was here as there; grace, penance, the +guardianship of the angels and the sacrament of the altar was the same +at Southwark as at Lewes. These things remained; while all else was +accidental—the different height of his room, the unfamiliar angles in +the passages, the new noises of London, the street cries, the clash of +music, the disordered routine of daily life.</p> + +<p>Half-way through June, after a long morning’s conversation with a +stranger, the Prior sent for him.</p> + +<p>He was standing by the tall carved fire-place with his back to the door, +his head and one hand leaning against the stone, and he turned round +despondently as Chris came in. Chris could see he was deadly pale and +that his lips twitched with nervousness.</p> + +<p>“Brother,” he said, “I have a perilous matter to go through, and you +must come with me.”</p> + +<p>Chris felt his heart begin to labour with heavy sick beats.</p> + +<p>“I am to see my Lord of Rochester. A friend hath obtained the order. We +are to go at five o’clock. See that you be ready. We shall take boat at +the stairs.”</p> + +<p>Chris waited, with his eyes deferentially cast down.</p> + +<p>“He is to be tried again on Thursday,” went on the Prior, “and my +friends wish me to see him, God knows—”</p> + +<p>He stopped abruptly, made a sign with his hand, and as Chris left the +room he saw that he was leaning once more against the stone-work, and +that his head was buried in his arms.</p> + +<p>Three more Carthusians had been condemned in the previous week, but the +Bishop’s trial, though his name was in the first indictment, was +postponed a few days.</p> + +<p>He too, like Sir Thomas More, had been over a year in the Tower; he had +been deprived of his see by an Act of Parliament, his palace had been +broken into and spoiled, and he himself, it was reported, was being +treated with the greatest rigour in the Tower.</p> + +<p>Chris was overcome with excitement at the thought that he was to see +this man. He had heard of his learning, his holiness, and his +austerities on all hands since his coming to London. When the bishop had +left Rochester at his summons to London a year before there had been a +wonderful scene of farewell, of which the story was still told in town. +The streets had been thronged with a vast crowd weeping and praying, as +he rode among them bare-headed, giving his blessing as he went. He had +checked his horse by the city-gate, and with a loud voice had bidden +them all stand by the old religion, and let no man take it from them. +And now here he lay himself in prison for the Faith, a Cardinal of the +Holy Roman Church, with scarcely clothes to cover him or food to eat. At +the sacking of his palace, too, as the men ran from room to room tearing +down the tapestries, and piling the plate together, a monk had found a +great iron box hidden in a corner. They cried to one another that it +held gold “for the bloody Pope”; and burst it open to find a hair shirt, +and a pair of disciplines.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was a long row down to the Tower from Southwark against the +in-flowing tide. As they passed beneath the bridge Chris stared up at +the crowding houses, the great gates at either end, and the faces +craning down; and he caught one glimpse as they shot through the narrow +passage between the piers, of the tall wall above the gate, the poles +rising from it, and the severed heads that crowned them. Somewhere among +that forest of grim stems the Carthusian priors looked down.</p> + +<p>As he turned in his seat he saw the boatman grinning to himself, and +following his eyes observed the Prior beside him with a white fixed face +looking steadily downwards towards his feet.</p> + +<p>They found no difficulty when they landed at the stairs, and showed the +order at the gate. The warder called to a man within the guard-room who +came out and went before them along the walled way that led to the +inner ward. They turned up to the left presently and found themselves in +the great court that surrounded the White Tower.</p> + +<p>The Prior walked heavily with his face downcast as if he wished to avoid +notice, and Chris saw that he paid no attention to the men-at-arms and +other persons here and there who saluted his prelate’s insignia. There +were plenty of people going about in the evening sunshine, soldiers and +attendants, and here and there at the foot of a tower stood a halberdier +in his buff jacket leaning on his weapon. There were many distinguished +persons in the Tower now, both ecclesiastics and laymen who had refused +to take one or both of the oaths, and Chris eyed the windows +wonderingly, picturing to himself where each lay, and with what courage.</p> + +<p>But more and more as he went he wondered why the Prior and he were here, +and who had obtained the order of admittance, for he had not had a sight +of it.</p> + +<p>When they reached the foot of the prison-tower the warder said a word to +the sentry, and took the two monks straight past, preceding them up the +narrow stairs that wound into darkness. There were windows here and +there, slits in the heavy masonry, through which Chris caught glimpses, +now of the moat on the west, now of the inner ward with the White Tower +huge and massive on the east.</p> + +<p>The Prior, who went behind the warder and in front of Chris, stopped +suddenly, and Chris could hear him whispering to himself; and at the +same time there sounded the creaking of a key in front.</p> + +<p>As the young monk stood there waiting, grasping the stone-work on his +right, again the excitement surged up; and with it was mingled something +of terror. It had been a formidable experience even to walk those few +hundred yards from the outer gate, and the obvious apprehensiveness of +the Prior who had spoken no audible word since they had landed, was far +from reassuring.</p> + +<p>Here he stood now for the first time in his life within those terrible +walls; he had seen the low Traitor’s Gate on his way that was for so +many the gate of death. Even now as he gripped the stone he could see +out to the left through the narrow slit a streak of open land beyond the +moat and the wall, and somewhere there he knew lay the little rising +ground, that reddened week after week in an ooze of blood and slime. And +now he was at the door of one who without doubt would die there soon for +the Faith that they both professed.</p> + +<p>The Prior turned sharply round.</p> + +<p>“You!” he said, “I had forgotten: you must wait here till I call you +in.”</p> + +<p>There was a sounding of an opening door above; the Prior went up and +forward, leaving him standing there; the door closed, but not before +Chris had caught a glimpse of a vaulted roof; and then the warder stood +by him again, waiting with his keys in his hand.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII<br><span class="small">PRISONER AND PRINCE</span></h2></div> + + +<p>The sun sank lower and had begun to throw long shadows before the door +opened again and the Prior beckoned. As Chris had stood there staring +out of the window at the green water of the moat and the shadowed wall +beyond, with the warder standing a few steps below, now sighing at the +delay, now humming a line or two, he had heard voices now and again from +the room above, but it had been no more than a murmur that died once +more into silence.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Chris was aware of a dusty room as he stepped over the threshold, bare +walls, one or two solid pieces of furniture, and of the Prior’s figure +very upright in the light from the tiny window at one side; and then he +forgot everything as he looked at the man that was standing smiling by +the table.</p> + +<p>It was a very tall slender figure, dressed in a ragged black gown +turning green with age; a little bent now, but still dignified; the face +was incredibly lean, with great brown eyes surrounded by wrinkles, and a +little white hair, ragged, too, and long, hung down under the old +flapped cap. The hand that Chris kissed seemed a bundle of reeds bound +with parchment, and above the wrist bones the arm grew thinner still +under the loose, torn sleeve.</p> + +<p>Then the monk stood up and saw those kindly proud eyes looking into his +own.</p> + +<p>The Prior made a deferential movement and said a word or two, and the +bishop answered him.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, my Lord Prior; I understand—God bless you, my son.”</p> + +<p>The bishop moved across to the chair, and sat down, panting a little, +for he was torn by sickness and deprivation, and laid his long hands +together.</p> + +<p>“Sit down, brother,” he said, “and you too, my Lord Prior.”</p> + +<p>Chris saw the Prior move across to an old broken stool, but he himself +remained standing, awed and almost terrified at that worn face in which +the eyes alone seemed living; so thin that the cheekbones stood out +hideously, and the line of the square jaw. But the voice was wonderfully +sweet and penetrating.</p> + +<p>“My Lord Prior and I have been talking of the times, and what is best to +be done, and how we must all be faithful. You will be faithful, +brother?”</p> + +<p>Chris made an effort against the absorbing fascination of that face and +voice.</p> + +<p>“I will, my lord.”</p> + +<p>“That is good; you must follow your prior and be obedient to him. You +will find him wise and courageous.”</p> + +<p>The bishop nodded gently towards the Prior, and Chris heard a sobbing +indrawn breath from the corner where the broken stool stood.</p> + +<p>“It is a time of great moment,” went on the bishop; “much hangs on how +we carry ourselves. His Grace has evil counsellors about him.”</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment or two; Chris could not take his eyes +from the bishop’s face. The frightful framework of skin and bones seemed +luminous from within, and there was an extraordinary sweetness on those +tightly drawn lips, and in the large bright eyes.</p> + +<p>“His Grace has been to the Tower lately, I hear, and once to the +Marshalsea, to see Dom Sebastian Newdegate, who, as you know, was at +Court for many years till he entered the Charterhouse; but I have had no +visit from him, nor yet, I should think, Master More—you must not judge +his Grace too hardly, my son; he was a good lad, as I knew very well—a +very gallant and brave lad. A Frenchman said that he seemed to have come +down from heaven. And he has always had a great faith and devotion, and +a very strange and delicate conscience that has cost him much pain. But +he has been counselled evilly.”</p> + +<p>Chris remembered as in a dream that the bishop had been the King’s tutor +years before.</p> + +<p>“He is a good theologian too,” went on the bishop, “and that is his +misfortune now, though I never thought to say such a thing. Perhaps he +will become a better one still, if God has mercy on him, and he will +come back to his first faith. But we must be good Catholics ourselves, +and be ready to die for our Religion, before we can teach him.”</p> + +<p>Again, after another silence, he went on.</p> + +<p>“You are to be a priest, I hear, my son, and to take Christ’s yoke more +closely upon you. It is no easy one in these days, though love will make +it so, as Himself said. I suppose it will be soon now?”</p> + +<p>“We are to get a dispensation, my lord, for the interstices,” said the +Prior.</p> + +<p>Chris had heard that this would be done, before he left Lewes, and he +was astonished now, not at the news, but at the strange softness of the +Prior’s voice.</p> + +<p>“That is very well,” went on the bishop. “We want all the faithful +priests possible. There is a great darkness in the land, and we need +lights to lighten it. You have a brother in Master Cromwell’s service, +sir, I hear?”</p> + +<p>Chris was silent.</p> + +<p>“You must not grieve too much. God Almighty can set all right. It may be +he thinks he is serving Him. We are not here to judge, but to give our +own account.”</p> + +<p>The bishop went on presently to ask a few questions and to talk of +Master More, saying that he had managed to correspond with him for a +while, but that now all the means for doing so had been taken away from +them both, as well as his own books.</p> + +<p>“It is a great grief to me that I cannot say my office, nor say nor hear +mass: I must trust now to the Holy Sacrifice offered by others.”</p> + +<p>He spoke so tenderly and tranquilly that Chris was hardly able to keep +back his tears. It seemed that the soul still kept its serene poise in +that wasted body, and was independent of it. There was no weakness nor +peevishness anywhere. The very room with its rough walls, its cobwebbed +roof, its uneven flooring, its dreadful chill and gloom, seemed alive +with a warm, redolent, spiritual atmosphere generated by this keen, pure +soul. Chris had never been near so real a sanctity before.</p> + +<p>“You have seen nothing of my Rochester folk, I suppose?” went on the +bishop to the Prior.</p> + +<p>The Prior shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I am very downcast about them sometimes; I saw many of them at the +court the other day. I forget that the Good Shepherd can guard His own +sheep. And they were so faithful to me that I know they will be faithful +to Him.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There came a sound of a key being knocked upon the door outside, and the +bishop stood up, slowly and painfully.</p> + +<p>“That will be Mr. Giles,” he said, “hungry for supper.”</p> + +<p>The two monks sank down on their knees, and as Chris closed his eyes he +heard a soft murmur of blessing over his head.</p> + +<p>Then each kissed his hand and Chris went to the door, half blind with +tears.</p> + +<p>He heard a whisper from the bishop to the Prior, who still lingered a +moment, and a half sob—</p> + +<p>“God helping me!”—said the Prior.</p> + +<p>There was no more spoken, and the two went down the stairs together into +the golden sunshine with the warder behind them.</p> + +<p>Chris dared not look at the other. He had had a glimpse of his face as +he stood aside on the stairs to let him pass, and what he saw there told +him enough.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There were plenty of boats rocking on the tide at the foot of the river +stairs outside the Tower, and they stepped into one, telling the man to +row to Southwark.</p> + +<p>It was a glorious summer evening now. The river lay bathed in the level +sunshine that turned it to molten gold, and it was covered with boats +plying in all directions. There were single wherries going to and from +the stairs that led down on all sides into the water, and barges here +and there, of the great merchants or nobles going home to supper, with a +line of oars on each side, and a glow of colour gilding in the stem and +prow, were moving up stream towards the City. London Bridge stood out +before them presently, like a palace in a fairy-tale, blue and romantic +against the western glow, and above it and beyond rose up the tall spire +of the Cathedral. On the other side a fringe of houses began a little to +the east of the bridge, and ran up to the spires of Southwark on the +other side, and on them lay a glory of sunset with deep shadows barring +them where the alleys ran down to the water’s edge. Here and there +behind rose up the heavy masses of the June foliage. A troop of swans, +white patches on the splendour, were breasting up against the +out-flowing tide.</p> + +<p>The air was full of sound; the rattle and dash of oars, men’s voices +coming clear and minute across the water; and as they got out near +mid-stream the bell of St. Paul’s boomed indescribably +solemn and melodious; another church took it up, and a chorus of mellow +voices tolled out the Angelus.</p> + +<p>Chris was half through saying it to himself, when across the soft murmur +sounded the clash of brass far away beyond the bridge.</p> + +<p>The boatman paused at his oars, turned round a moment, grasping them in +one hand, and stared up-stream under the other. Chris could see a +movement among the boats higher up, and there seemed to break out a +commotion at the foot of the houses on London Bridge, and then far away +came the sound of cheering.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” asked the Prior sharply, lifting his head, as the boatman +gave an exclamation and laid furiously to his oars again.</p> + +<p>The man jerked his head backwards.</p> + +<p>“The King’s Grace,” he said.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>For a minute or two nothing more was to be seen. A boat or two near them +was seen making off to the side from mid-stream, to leave a clear +passage, and there were cries from the direction of the bridge where +someone seemed to be in difficulties with the strong stream and the +piers. A wherry that was directly between them and the bridge moved +off, and the shining water-way was left for the King’s Grace to come +down.</p> + +<p>Then, again, the brass horns sounded nearer.</p> + +<p>Chris was conscious of an immense excitement. The dramatic contrast of +the scene he had just left with that which he was witnessing overpowered +him. He had seen one end of the chain of life, the dying bishop in the +Tower, in his rags; now he was to see the other end, the Sovereign at +whose will he was there, in all the magnificence of a pageant. The Prior +was sitting bolt upright on the seat beside him; one hand lay on his +knee, the knuckles white with clenching, the other gripped the side of +the boat.</p> + +<p>Then, again, the fierce music sounded, and the first boat appeared under +one of the wider spans of the bridge, a couple of hundred yards away.</p> + +<p>The stream was running out strongly by now, and the boatman tugged to +get out of it into the quieter water at the side, and as he pulled an +oar snapped. The Prior half started up as the man burst out into an +exclamation, and began to paddle furiously with the other oar, but the +boat revolved helplessly, and he was forced to change it to the opposite +side.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the boats were beginning to stream under the bridge, and +Chris, seeing that the boat in which he sat was sufficiently out of the +way to allow a clear passage in mid-stream even if not far enough +removed for proper deference, gave himself up to watching the splendid +sight.</p> + +<p>The sun had now dropped behind the high houses by the bridge, and a +shadow lay across the water, but nearer at hand the way was clear, and +in a moment more the leading boat had entered the sunlight.</p> + +<p>There was no possibility of mistake as to whether this were the royal +barge or no. It was a great craft, seventy feet from prow to stem at +the very least, and magnificent with colour. As it burst out into the +sun, it blazed blindingly with gold; the prow shone with blue and +crimson; the stern, roofed in with a crimson canopy with flying tassels, +trailed brilliant coarse tapestries on either side; and the Royal +Standard streamed out behind.</p> + +<p>Chris tried to count the oars, as they swept into the water with a +rhythmical throb and out again, flashing a fringe of drops and showing a +coat painted on each blade. There seemed to be eight or ten a side. A +couple of trumpeters stood in the bows, behind the gilded carved +figurehead, their trumpets held out symmetrically with the square +hangings flapping as they came.</p> + +<p>He could see now the heads of the watermen who rowed, with the caps of +the royal livery moving together like clockwork at the swing of the +oars.</p> + +<p>Behind followed the other boats, some half dozen in all; and as each +pair burst out into the level sunlight with a splendour of gold and +colour, and the roar from London Bridge swelled louder and louder, for a +moment the young monk forgot the bitter underlying tragedy of all that +he had seen and knew—forgot oozy Tower-hill and trampled Tyburn and the +loaded gallows—forgot even the grim heads that stared out with dead +tortured eyes from the sheaves of pikes rising high above him at this +moment against the rosy sky—forgot the monks of the Charterhouse and +their mourning hearts; the insulted queen, repudiated and declared a +concubine—forgot all that made life so hard to live and understand at +this time—as this splendid vision of the lust of the eyes broke out in +pulsating sound and colour before him.</p> + +<p>But it was only for a moment.</p> + +<p>There was a group of half-a-dozen persons under the canopy of the +seat-of-state of the leading boat; the splendid centre of the splendid +show, brilliant in crimson and gold and jewels.</p> + +<p>On the further side sat two men. Chris did not know their faces, but as +his eyes rested on them a moment he noticed that one was burly and +clean-shaven, and wore some insignia across his shoulders. At the near +side were the backs of two ladies, silken clad and slashed with crimson, +their white jewelled necks visible under their coiled hair and tight +square cut caps. And in the centre sat a pair, a man and a woman; and on +these he fixed his eyes as the boat swept up not twenty yards away, for +he knew who they must be.</p> + +<p>The man was leaning back, looking gigantic in his puffed sleeves and +wide mantle; one great arm was flung along the back of the tapestried +seat, and his large head, capped with purple and feathers, was bending +towards the woman who sat beyond. Chris could make out a fringe of +reddish hair beneath his ear and at the back of the flat head between +the high collar and the cap. He caught a glimpse, too, of a sedate face +beyond, set on a slender neck, with downcast eyes and red lips. And then +as the boat came opposite, and the trumpeters sent out a brazen crash +from the trumpets at their lips, the man turned his head and stared +straight at the boat.</p> + +<p>It was an immensely wide face, fringed with reddish hair, scanty about +the lips and more full below; and it looked the wider from the narrow +drooping eyes set near together and the small pursed mouth. Below, his +chin swelled down fold after fold into his collar, and the cheeks were +wide and heavy on either side.</p> + +<p>It was the most powerful face that Chris had ever seen or dreamed +of—the animal brooded in every line and curve of it—it would have +been brutish but for the steady pale stare of the eyes and the tight +little lips. It fascinated and terrified him.</p> + +<p>The flourish ended, the roar of the rowlocks sounded out again like the +beating of a furious heart; the King turned his head again and said +something, and the boat swept past.</p> + +<p>Chris found that he had started to his feet, and sat down again, +breathing quickly and heavily, with a kind of indignant loathing that +was new to him.</p> + +<p>This then was the master of England, the heart of all their +troubles—that gorgeous fat man with the broad pulpy face, in his +crimson and jewels; and that was his concubine who sat demure beside +him, with her white folded ringed hands on her lap, her beautiful eyes +cast down, and her lord’s hot breath in her ear! It was these that were +purifying the Church of God of such men as the Cardinal-bishop in the +Tower, and the witty holy lawyer! It was by the will of such as these +that the heads of the Carthusian Fathers, bound brow and chin with +linen, stared up and down with dead eyes from the pikes overhead.</p> + +<p>He sat panting and unseeing as the other boats swept past, full of the +King’s friends all going down to Greenwich.</p> + +<p>There broke out a roar from the Tower behind, and he started and turned +round to see the white smoke eddying up from the edge of the wall beside +the Traitor’s gate; a shrill cheer or two, far away and thin, sounded +from the figures on the wharf and the boatmen about the stairs.</p> + +<p>The wherryman sat down again and put on his cap.</p> + +<p>“Body of God!” he said, “there was but just time.”</p> + +<p>And he began to pull again with his single oar towards the shore.</p> + +<p>Chris looked at the Prior a moment and down again. He was sitting with +tight lips, and hands clasped in his lap, and his eyes were wild and +piteous.</p> + +<p>They borrowed an oar presently from another boat, and went on up towards +Southwark. The wherryman pawed once to spit on his hands as they neared +the rush of the current below the bridge.</p> + +<p>“That was Master Cromwell with His Grace,” he said.</p> + +<p>Chris looked at him questioningly.</p> + +<p>“Him with the gold collar,” he added, “and that was Audley by him.”</p> + +<p>The Prior had glanced at Chris as Cromwell’s name was mentioned; but +said nothing for the present. And Chris himself was lost again in +musing. That was Ralph’s master then, the King’s right-hand man, feared +next in England after the King himself—and Chancellor Audley, too, and +Anne, all in one wooden boat. How easy for God to put out His hand and +finish them! And then he was ashamed at his own thought, so faithless +and timid; and he remembered Fisher once more and his gallant spirit in +that broken body.</p> + +<p>A minute or two later they had landed at the stairs, and were making +their way up to the hostel.</p> + +<p>The Prior put out his hand and checked him as he stepped ahead to knock.</p> + +<p>“Wait,” he said. “Do you know who signed the order we used at the +Tower?”</p> + +<p>Chris shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Master Cromwell,” said the Prior. “And do you know by whose hand it +came?”</p> + +<p>Chris stared in astonishment.</p> + +<p>“It was by your brother,” he said.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV<br><span class="small">THE SACRED PURPLE</span></h2></div> + + +<p>It was a bright morning a few days later when the Bishop of Rochester +suffered on Tower Hill.</p> + +<p>Chris was there early, and took up his position at the outskirts of the +little crowd, facing towards the Tower itself; and for a couple of hours +watched the shadows creep round the piles of masonry, and the light +deepen and mellow between him and the great mass of the White Tower a +few hundred yards away. There was a large crowd there a good while +before nine o’clock, and Chris found himself at the hour no longer on +the outskirts but in the centre of the people.</p> + +<p>He had served the Prior’s mass at six o’clock, and had obtained leave +from him the night before to be present at the execution; but the Prior +himself had given no suggestion of coming. Chris had begun to see that +his superior was going through a conflict, and that he wished to spare +himself any further motives of terror; he began too to understand that +the visit to the bishop had had the effect of strengthening the Prior’s +courage, whatever had been the intention on the part of the authorities +in allowing him to go. He was still wondering why Ralph had lent himself +to the scheme; but had not dared to press his superior further.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The bishop had made a magnificent speech at his trial, and had +protested with an extraordinary pathos, that called out a demonstration +from the crowd in court, against Master Rich’s betrayal of his +confidence. Under promise of the King that nothing that he said to his +friend should be used against him, the bishop had shown his mind in a +private conversation on the subject of the Supremacy Act, and now this +had been brought against him by Rich himself at the trial.</p> + +<p>“Seeing it pleased the King’s Highness,” said the bishop, “to send to me +thus secretly to know my poor advice and opinion, which I most gladly +was, and ever will be, ready to offer to him when so commanded, methinks +it very hard to allow the same as sufficient testimony against me, to +prove me guilty of high treason.”</p> + +<p>Rich excused himself by affirming that he said or did nothing more than +what the King commanded him to do; and the trial ended by the bishop’s +condemnation.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>As Chris waited by the scaffold he prayed almost incessantly. There was +sufficient spur for prayer in the menacing fortress before him with its +hundred tiny windows, and the new scaffold, some five or six feet high, +that stood in the foreground. He wondered how the bishop was passing his +time and thought he knew. The long grey wall beyond the moat, and the +towers that rose above it, were suggestive in their silent strength. +From where he stood too he could catch a glimpse of the shining reaches +of the river with the green slopes on the further side; and the freedom +and beauty of the sight, the delicate haze that hung over the water, the +birds winging their way across, the boats plying to and fro, struck a +vivid contrast to the grim fatality of the prison and the scaffold.</p> + +<p>A bell sounded out somewhere from the Tower, and a ripple ran through +the crowd. There was an immensely tall man a few yards from Chris, and +Chris could see his face turn suddenly towards the lower ground by the +river where the gateway rose up dark against the bright water. The man’s +face suddenly lighted with interest, and Chris saw his lips move and his +eyes become intent. Then a surging movement began, and the monk was +swept away to the left by the packed crowd round him. There were faces +lining the wall and opposite, and all were turned one way. A great +murmur began to swell up, and a woman beside him turned white and began +to sob quietly.</p> + +<p>His eyes caught a bright point of light that died again, flashed out, +and resolved itself into a gleaming line of halberds, moving on towards +the right above the heads, up the slope to the scaffold. He saw a horse +toss his head; and then a feathered cap or two swaying behind.</p> + +<p>Then for one instant between the shifting heads in front he caught sight +of a lean face framed in a flapped cap swaying rhythmically as if borne +on a chair. It vanished again.</p> + +<p>The flashing line of halberds elongated itself, divided, and came +between the scaffold and him; and the murmur of the crowd died to a +heart-shaking silence. A solemn bell clanged out again from the interior +of the prison, and Chris, his wet hands knit together, began to count +the strokes mechanically, staring at the narrow rail of the scaffold, +and waiting for the sight that he knew would come. Then again he was +swept along a yard or two to the right, and when he had recovered his +feet a man was on the scaffold, bending forwards and gesticulating. +Another head rose into the line of vision, and this man too turned +towards the steps up which he had come, and stood, one hand +outstretched.</p> + +<p>Again a murmur and movement began; Chris had to look to his foothold, +and when he raised his head again a solemn low roar was rising up and +swelling, of pity and excitement, for, silhouetted against the sunlit +Tower behind, stood the man for whose sake all were there.</p> + +<p>He was in a black gown and tippet, and carried his two hands clasped to +his breast; and in them was a book and a crucifix. His cap was on his +head, and the white face, incredibly thin, looked out over the heads of +the crowd.</p> + +<p>Chris hardly noticed that the scaffold was filling with people, until a +figure came forward, in black, with a masked face, and bowed +deferentially to the bishop; and in an instant silence fell again.</p> + +<p>He saw the bishop turn and bow slightly in return, and in the stillness +that wonderful voice sounded out, with the clear minuteness of words +spoken in the open air, clear and penetrating over the whole ground.</p> + +<p>“I forgive you very heartily; and I hope you will see me overcome this +storm lustily.”</p> + +<p>The black figure fell back, and the bishop stood hesitating, looking +this way and that as if for direction.</p> + +<p>The Lieutenant of the Tower came forward; but Chris could only see his +lips move, as a murmur had broken out again at the bishop’s answer; but +he signed with his hand and stepped behind the prisoner.</p> + +<p>The bishop nodded, lifted his hand and took off his cap; and his white +hair appeared; then he fumbled at his throat, holding the book and +crucifix in his other hand; and, with the Lieutenant’s help, slipped off +his tippet and loose gown; and as he freed himself, and stood in his +doublet and hose, a great sobbing cry of horror and compassion rose from +the straining faces, for he seemed scarcely to be a living man, so +dreadful was his emaciation. Above that lean figure of death looked out +the worn old face, serene and confident. He was again holding the book +and crucifix clasped to his breast, as he stepped to the edge of the +scaffold.</p> + +<p>The cry died to a murmur and ceased abruptly as he began his speech, +every word of which was audible.</p> + +<p>“Christian people,” he began, “I am come hither to die for the faith of +Christ’s holy Catholic Church.” He raised his voice a little, and it +rang out confidently. “And I thank God that hitherto my stomach hath +served me very well thereunto, so that yet I have not feared death. +Wherefore I desire you all to help and assist with your prayers, that at +the very point and instant of death’s stroke I may in that very moment +stand steadfast, without fainting in any one point of the Catholic +Faith, free from any fear.”</p> + +<p>He paused again; his hands closed one on the other. He glanced up.</p> + +<p>“And I beseech the Almighty God of His infinite goodness and mercy, to +save the King and this realm; and that it may please Him to hold His +hand over it, and send the King’s Highness good counsel.”</p> + +<p>He ceased abruptly; and dropped his head.</p> + +<p>A gentle groan ran through the crowd.</p> + +<p>Chris felt his throat contract, and a mist blinded his eyes for a +moment.</p> + +<p>Then he saw the bishop slip the crucifix into his other hand, and open +the book, apparently at random. His lean finger dropped upon the page; +and he read aloud softly, as if to himself.</p> + +<p>“This is life eternal, that they might know Thee, the one true God, and +Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent. I have glorified Thee on the earth; I +have finished the work which Thou gavest me to do.”</p> + +<p>Again there was silence, for it seemed as if he was going to make a +sermon, but he looked down at the book a moment or two. Then he closed +it gently.</p> + +<p>“Here is learning enough for me,” he said, “to my life’s end.”</p> + +<p>There was a movement among the silent figures at the back of the +scaffold; and the Lieutenant stepped forward once more. The bishop +turned to meet him and nodded; handing him the book; and then with the +crucifix still in his hands, and with the officer’s help, sank on to his +knees.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It seemed to Chris as if he waited an eternity; but he could not take +his eyes off him. Round about was the breathing mass of the crowd, +overhead the clear summer sky; up from the river came the sounds of +cries and the pulse of oars, and from the Tower now and again the call +of a horn and the stroke of a bell; but all this was external, and +seemed to have no effect upon the intense silence of the heart that +radiated from the scaffold, and in which the monk felt himself +enveloped. The space between himself and the bishop seemed annihilated; +and Chris found himself in company with a thousand others close beside +the man’s soul that was to leave the world so soon. He could not pray; +but he had the sensation of gripping that imploring spirit, pulsating +with it, furthering with his own strained will that stream of effort +that he knew was going forth.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile his eyes stared at him; and saw without seeing how the old man +now leaned back with closed eyes and moving lips; now he bent forward, +and looked at the crucified figure that he held between his hands, now +lifted it and lingeringly kissed the pierced feet. Behind stood the +stiff line of officers, and in front below the rail rose the glitter of +the halberds.</p> + +<p>The minutes went by and there was no change. The world seemed to have +grown rigid with expectancy; it was as if time stood still. There fell +upon the monk’s soul, not suddenly but imperceptibly, something of that +sense of the unseen that he had experienced at Tyburn. For a certain +space all sorrow and terror left him; he knew tangibly now that to which +at other times his mere faith assented; he knew that the world of spirit +was the real one; that the Tower, the axe, the imminent shadow of death, +were little more than illusions; they were part of the staging, +significant and necessary, but with no substance of reality. The eternal +world in which God was all, alone was a fact. He felt no longer pity or +regret. Nothing but the sheer existence of a Being of which all persons +there were sharers, poised in an eternal instant, remained with him.</p> + +<p>This strange sensation was scarcely disturbed by the rising of the lean +black figure from its knees; Chris watched him as he might have watched +the inevitable movement of an actor performing his pre-arranged part. +The bishop turned eastward, to where the sun was now high above the +Tower gate, and spoke once more.</p> + +<p>“<i>Accedite ad eum, et illuminamini; et facies vestræ non confundentur</i>.”</p> + +<p>Then once more in the deathly stillness he turned round; and his eyes +ran over the countless faces turned up to his own. But there was a +certain tranquil severity in his face—the severity of one who has taken +a bitter cup firmly into his hand; his lips were tightly compressed, and +his eyes were deep and steady.</p> + +<p>Then very slowly he lifted his right hand, touched his forehead, and +enveloped himself in a great sign of the cross, still looking out +unwaveringly over the faces; and immediately, without any hesitation, +sank down on his knees, put his hands before him on to the scaffold, and +stretched himself flat.</p> + +<p>He was now invisible to Chris; for the low block on which he had laid +his neck was only a few inches high.</p> + +<p>There was again a surge and a murmur as the headsman stepped forward +with the huge-headed axe over his shoulder, and stood waiting.</p> + +<p>Then again the moments began to pass.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Chris lost all consciousness of his own being; he was aware of nothing +but the objective presence of the scaffold, of an overpowering +expectancy. It seemed as if something were stretched taut in his brain, +at breaking point; as if some vast thing were on the point of +revelation. All else had vanished,—the scene round him, the sense of +the invisible; there was but the point of space left, waiting for an +explosion.</p> + +<p>There was a sense of wrenching torture as the headsman lifted the axe, +bringing it high round behind him; the motion seemed shockingly slow, +and to wring the strained nerves to agony....</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Then in a blinding climax the axe fell.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV<br><span class="small">THE KING’S FRIEND</span></h2></div> + + +<p>Overfield Court was mildly stirred at the news that Master Christopher +would stay there a few days on his way back from London to Lewes. It was +not so exciting as when Master Ralph was to come, as the latter made +more demands than a mere monk; for the one the horses must be in the +pink of condition, the game neither too wild nor too tame, his rooms +must be speckless, neither too full nor too empty of furniture; for the +other it did not matter so much, for he was now not only a younger +brother, but a monk, and therefore accustomed to contradiction and +desirous to acquiesce in arrangements.</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon indeed took no steps at all when she heard that Chris was +coming, beyond expressing a desire that she might not be called upon to +discuss the ecclesiastical situation at every meal; and when Chris +finally arrived a week after Bishop Fisher’s execution, having parted +with the Prior at Cuckfield, she was walking in her private garden +beyond the moat.</p> + +<p>Sir James was in a very different state. He had caused two rooms to be +prepared, that his son might take his choice, one next to Mr. Carleton’s +and therefore close to the chapel, and the other the old chamber that +Chris had occupied before he went to Lewes; and when the monk at last +rode up on alone on his tired mule with his little bag strapped to the +crupper, an hour before sunset, his father was out at the gatehouse to +meet him, and walked up beside him to the house, with his hand laid on +his son’s knee.</p> + +<p>They hardly spoke a word as they went; Sir James had looked up at +Chris’s white strained face, and had put one question; and the other had +nodded; and the hearts of both were full as they went together to the +house.</p> + +<p>The father and son supped together alone that night in the private +parlour, for no one had dared to ask Lady Torridon to postpone her usual +supper hour; and as soon as that was over and Chris had told what he had +seen, with many silences, they went into the oak-room where Lady +Torridon and Mr. Carleton were awaiting them by the hearth with the +Flemish tiles.</p> + +<p>The mother was sitting as usual in her tall chair, with her beautiful +hands on her lap, and smiled with a genial contempt as she ran her eyes +up and down her son’s figure.</p> + +<p>“The habit suits you very well, my son—in every way,” she added, +looking at him curiously.</p> + +<p>Chris had greeted her an hour before at his arrival, so there was no +ceremony of salute to be gone through now. He sat down by his father.</p> + +<p>“You have seen Ralph, I hear,” observed Lady Torridon.</p> + +<p>Chris did not know how much she knew, and simply assented. He had told +his father everything.</p> + +<p>“I have some news,” she went on in an unusually talkative mood, “for you +both. Ralph is to marry Beatrice Atherton—the girl you saw in his +rooms, Christopher.”</p> + +<p>Sir James gave an exclamation and leant forward; and Chris tightened his +lips.</p> + +<p>“She is a friend of Mr. More’s,” went on Lady Torridon, apparently +unconscious of the sensation she was making, “but that is Ralph’s +business, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“Why did Ralph not write to me?” asked his father, with a touch of +sternness.</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon answered him by a short pregnant silence, and then went +on—</p> + +<p>“I suppose he wished me to break it to you. It will not be for two or +three years. She says she cannot leave Mrs. More for the present.”</p> + +<p>Chris’s brain was confused by the news, and yet it all seemed external +to him. As he had ridden up to the house in the evening he had +recognised for the first time how he no longer belonged to the place; +his two years at Lewes had done their work, and he came to his home now +not as a son but as a guest. He had even begun to perceive the +difference after his quarrel with Ralph, for he had not been conscious +of the same personal sting at his brother’s sins that he would have felt +five years ago. And now this news, while it affected him, did not +penetrate to the still sanctuary that he had hewn out of his heart +during those months of discipline.</p> + +<p>But his father was roused.</p> + +<p>“He should have written to me,” he said sternly. “And, my wife, I will +beg you to remember that I have a right to my son’s business.”</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon did not move or answer. He leaned back again, and passed +his hand tenderly through Chris’s arm.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was very strange to the younger son to find himself a few minutes +later up again in the west gallery of the chapel, where he had knelt two +years before; and for a few moments he almost felt himself at home. But +the mechanical shifting of his scapular aside as he sat down for the +psalms, recalled facts. Then he had been in his silk suit, his hands had +been rough with his cross-bow, his beard had been soft on his chin, and +the blood hot in his cheeks. Now he was in his habit, smooth-faced and +shaven, tired and oppressed, still weak from the pangs of soul-birth. He +was further from human love, but nearer the Divine, he thought.</p> + +<p>He sat with his father a few minutes after compline; and Sir James spoke +more frankly of the news that they had heard.</p> + +<p>“If she is really a friend of Mr. More’s,” he said, “she may be his +salvation. I am sorely disappointed in him. I did not know Master +Cromwell when I sent him to him, as I do now. Is it my fault, Chris?”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Chris told his father presently of what the Prior had said as to Ralph’s +assistance in the matter of the visit that the two monks had paid to the +Tower; and asked an interpretation.</p> + +<p>Sir James sat quiet a minute or two, stroking his pointed grey beard +softly, and looking into the hearth.</p> + +<p>“God forgive me if I am wrong, my son,” he said at last, “but I wonder +whether they let the my Lord Prior go to the Tower in order to shake the +confidence of both. Do you think so, Chris?”</p> + +<p>Chris too was silent a moment; he knew he must not speak evil of +dignities.</p> + +<p>“It may be so. I know that my Lord Prior—”</p> + +<p>“Well, my son?”</p> + +<p>“My Lord Prior has been very anxious—”</p> + +<p>Sir James patted his son on the knee, and reassured him.</p> + +<p>“Prior Crowham is a very holy man, I think; but—but somewhat delicate. +However their designs have come to nothing. The bishop is in glory; and +the other more courageous than he was.”</p> + +<p>Chris also had a few words with Mr. Carleton before he went to bed, +sitting where he had sat in the moonlight two years before.</p> + +<p>“If they have done so much,” said the priest, “they will do more. When a +man has slipped over a precipice he cannot save his fall. Master More +will be the next to go; I make no doubt of that. You are to be a priest +soon, Chris?”</p> + +<p>“They have applied for leave,” said the monk shortly. “In two years I +shall be a priest, no doubt, if God wills.”</p> + +<p>“You are happy?” asked the other.</p> + +<p>Chris made a little gesture.</p> + +<p>“I do not know what that means,” he said, “but I know I have done right. +I feel nothing. God’s ways and His world are too strange.”</p> + +<p>The priest looked at him oddly, without speaking.</p> + +<p>“Well, father?” asked Chris, smiling.</p> + +<p>“You are right,” said the chaplain brusquely. “You have done well. You +have crossed the border.”</p> + +<p>Chris felt the blood surge in his temples.</p> + +<p>“The border?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“The border of dreams. They surround the Religious Life; and you have +passed through them.”</p> + +<p>Chris still looked at him with parted lips. This praise was sweet, after +the bitterness of his failure with Ralph. The priest seemed to know what +was passing in his mind.</p> + +<p>“Oh! you will fail sometimes,” he said, “but not finally. You are a +monk, my son, and a man.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Lady Torridon retired into her impregnable silence again after her +sallies of speech on the previous evening; but as the few days went on +that Chris had been allowed to spend with his parents he was none the +less aware that her attitude towards him was one of contempt. She +showed it in a hundred ways—by not appearing to see him, by refusing to +modify her habits in the smallest particular for his convenience, by a +rigid silence on the subject that was in the hearts of both him and his +father. She performed her duties as punctually and efficiently as ever, +dealt dispassionately and justly with an old servant who had been +troublesome, and with regard to whom her husband was both afraid and +tender; but never asked for confidences or manifested the minutest +detail of her own accord.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>On the fourth day after Chris’s arrival news came that Sir Thomas More +had been condemned, but it roused no more excitement than the fall of a +threatening rod. It had been known to be inevitable. And then on Chris’s +last evening at home came the last details.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Sir James and Chris had been out for a long ride up the estate, talking +but little, for each knew what was in the heart of the other; and they +were just dismounting at the terrace-steps when there was a sound of +furious galloping; and a couple of riders burst through the gateway a +hundred yards away.</p> + +<p>Chris felt his heart leap and hammer in his throat, but stood passively +awaiting what he knew was coming; and a few seconds later, Nicholas +Maxwell checked his horse passionately at the steps.</p> + +<p>“God damn them!” he cried, with a crimson quivering face.</p> + +<p>Sir James stepped up at once and took him by the arm.</p> + +<p>“Nick,” he said, and glanced at the staring grooms.</p> + +<p>Nicholas showed his teeth like a dog.</p> + +<p>“God damn them!” he said again.</p> + +<p>The other rider had come up by now; he was dusty and seemed spent. He +was a stranger to the father and son who waited on the steps; but he +looked like a groom, and slipped off his horse deftly and took Sir +Nicholas’s bridle.</p> + +<p>“Come in Nick,” said Sir James. “We can talk in the house.”</p> + +<p>As the three went up together, with the strange rider at a respectful +distance behind, Nicholas broke out again in one sentence.</p> + +<p>“They have done it,” he said, “he is dead. Mother of God!”</p> + +<p>His whip twitched in his clenching hand. He turned and jerked his head +beckoningly to the man who followed; and the four went on together, +through the hall and into Sir James’s parlour. Sir James shut the door.</p> + +<p>“Tell us, Nick.”</p> + +<p>Nicholas stood at the hearth, glaring and shifting.</p> + +<p>“This fellow knows—he saw it; tell them, Dick.”</p> + +<p>The man gave his account. He was one of the servants of Sir Nicholas’ +younger brother, who lived in town, and had been sent down to Great +Keynes immediately after the execution that had taken place that +morning. He was a man of tolerable education, and told his story well.</p> + +<p>Sir James sat as he listened, with his hand shading his eyes; Nicholas +was fidgetting at the hearth, interrupting the servant now and again +with questions and reminders; and Chris leaned in the dark corner by the +window. There floated vividly before his mind as he listened the setting +of the scene that he had looked upon a few days ago, though there were +new actors in it now.</p> + +<p>“It was this morning, sir, on Tower Hill. There was a great company +there long before the time. He came out bravely enough, walking with +the Lieutenant that was his friend, and with a red cross in his hand.”</p> + +<p>“You were close by,” put in Nicholas</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir; I was beside the stairs. They shook as he went up; they were +crazy steps, and he told the Lieutenant to have a care to him.”</p> + +<p>“The words, man, the words!”</p> + +<p>“I am not sure, sir; but they were after this fashion: ‘See me safe up, +Master Lieutenant; I will shift for myself at the coming down.’ So he +got up safe, and stamped once or twice merrily to see if all were firm. +Then he made a speech, sir, and begged all there to pray for him. He +told them that he was to die for the faith of the Catholic Church, as my +Lord of Rochester did.”</p> + +<p>“Have you heard of my lord’s head being taken to Nan Boleyn?” put in +Nicholas fiercely.</p> + +<p>Sir James looked up.</p> + +<p>“Presently, Nick,” he said.</p> + +<p>The man went on.</p> + +<p>“Master More kneeled down presently at his prayers; and all the folk +kept very quiet. There was not one that cried against him. Then he stood +up again, put off his gown, so that his neck was bare; and passed his +hand over it smiling. Then he told the headsman that it was but a short +one, and bade him be brave and strike straight, lest his good name +should suffer. Then he laid himself down to the block, and put his neck +on it; but he moved again before he gave the sign, and put his beard out +in front—for he had grown one in prison”—</p> + +<p>“Give us the words,” snarled Nicholas.</p> + +<p>“He said, sir, that his beard had done no treason, and need not +therefore suffer as he had to do. And then he thrust out his hand for a +sign—and ’twas done at a stroke.”</p> + +<p>“God damn them!” hissed Nicholas again as a kind of Amen, turning +swiftly to the fire-place so that his face could not be seen.</p> + +<p>There was complete silence for a few seconds. The groom had his eyes +cast down, and stood there—then again he spoke.</p> + +<p>“As to my Lord of Rochester’s head, that was taken off to the—the +Queen, they say, in a white bag, and she struck it on the mouth.”</p> + +<p>Nicholas dropped his head against his hand that rested on the wood-work.</p> + +<p>“And the body rested naked all day on the scaffold, with the halberd-men +drinking round about; and ’twas tumbled into a hole in Barking +Churchyard that night.”</p> + +<p>“At whose orders?”</p> + +<p>“At Master Cromwell’s, sir.”</p> + +<p>Again there was silence; and again the groom broke it.</p> + +<p>“There was more said, sir—” and hesitated.</p> + +<p>The old man signed to him to go on.</p> + +<p>“They say that my lord’s head shone with light each night on the +bridge,” said the man reverently; “there was a great press there, I +know, all day, so that the streets were blocked, and none could come or +go. And so they tumbled that into the river at last; at least ’tis +supposed so—for ’twas gone when I looked.”</p> + +<p>Nicholas turned round; and his eyes were bright and his face fiery and +discoloured.</p> + +<p>Sir James stood up, and his voice was broken as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, my man. You have told your story well.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>As the groom turned to go out, Sir Nicholas wheeled round swiftly to the +hearth, and buried his face on his arm; and Chris saw a great heaving +begin to shake his broad shoulders.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_KINGS_TRIUMPH-BOOK_II">THE KING’S TRIUMPH—BOOK II</h2> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h3 class="nobreak" id="PART_I-THE_SMALLER_HOUSES">PART I—THE SMALLER HOUSES</h3> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_2I">CHAPTER I<br><span class="small">AN ACT OF FAITH</span></h4></div> + + +<p>Towards the end of August Beatrice Atherton was walking up the north +bank of the river from Charing to Westminster to announce to Ralph her +arrival in town on the previous night.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>She had gone through horrors since the June day on which she had seen +the two brothers together. With Margaret beside her she had watched +Master More in court, in his frieze gown, leaning on his stick, bent and +grey with imprisonment, had heard his clear answers, his searching +questions, and his merry conclusion after sentence had been pronounced; +she had stayed at home with the stricken family on the morning of the +sixth of July, kneeling with them at her prayers in the chapel of the +New Building, during the hours until Mr. Roper looked in grey-faced and +trembling, and they knew that all was over. She went with them to the +burial in St. Peter’s Chapel in the Tower; and last, which was the most +dreadful ordeal of all, she had stood in the summer darkness by the +wicket-gate, had heard the cautious stroke of oars, and the footsteps +coming up the path, and had let Margaret in bearing her precious burden +robbed from the spike on London Bridge.</p> + +<p>Then for a while she had gone down to the country with Mrs. More and +her daughters; and now she was back once more, in a kind of psychical +convalescence, at her aunt’s new house on the river-bank at Charing.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Her face was a little paler than it used to be, but there was a +quickening brightness in her eyes as she swept along in her blue mantle, +with her maid beside her, in the rear of the liveried servant, who +carried a silver-headed wand a few yards in front.</p> + +<p>She was rehearsing to herself the scene in which Ralph had asked her to +be his wife.</p> + +<p>Where Chris had left the room the two had remained perfectly still until +the street-door had closed; and then Ralph had turned to her with a +question in his steady eyes.</p> + +<p>She had told him then that she did not believe one word of what the monk +had insinuated; but she had been conscious even at the time that she was +making what theologians call an act of faith. It was not that there were +not difficulties to her in Ralph’s position—there were plenty—but she +had determined by a final and swift decision to disregard them and +believe in him. It was a last step in a process that continued ever +since she had become interested by this strong brusque man; and it had +been precipitated by the fanatical attack to which she had just been a +witness. The discord, as she thought it, of Ralph’s character and +actions had not been resolved; yet she had decided in that moment that +it need not be; that her data as concerned those actions were +insufficient; and that if she could not explain, at least she could +trust.</p> + +<p>Ralph had been very honest, she told herself now. He had reminded her +that he was a servant of Cromwell’s whom many believed to be an enemy +of Church and State. She had nodded back to him steadily and silently, +knowing what would follow from the paleness of his face, and his bright +eyes beneath their wide lids. She had felt her own breast rise and fall +and a pulse begin to hammer at the spring of her throat. Even now as she +thought of it her heart quickened, and her hands clenched themselves.</p> + +<p>And then in one swift moment it had come. She had found her hands caught +fiercely, and her eyes imprisoned by his; and then all was over, and she +had given him an answer in a word.</p> + +<p>It had not been easy even after that. Cecily had questioned her more +than once. Mrs. More had said a few indiscreet things that had been hard +to bear; her own aunt had received the news in silence.</p> + +<p>But that was over now. The necessary consent on both sides had been +given; and here she was once more walking up the road to Westminster +with Ralph’s image before her eyes, and Ralph himself a hundred yards +away.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>She turned the last corner from the alley, passed up the little street, +and turned again across the little cobbled yard that lay before the +house.</p> + +<p>Mr. Morris was at the door as she came up, and he now stood aside. He +seemed doubtful.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Torridon has gentlemen with him, madam.”</p> + +<p>“Then I will wait,” said Beatrice serenely, and made a motion to come +in. The servant still half-hesitating opened the door wider; and +Beatrice and her maid went through into the little parlour on the right.</p> + +<p>As she passed in she heard voices from the other door. Mr. Morris’s +footsteps went down the passage.</p> + +<p>She had not very long to wait. There was the sound of a carriage +driving up to the door presently, and her maid who sat in view of the +window glanced out. Her face grew solemn.</p> + +<p>“It is Master Cromwell’s carriage,” she said.</p> + +<p>Beatrice was conscious of a vague discomfort; Master Cromwell, in spite +of her efforts, was the shadowed side of Ralph’s life.</p> + +<p>“Is he coming in?” she said.</p> + +<p>The maid peeped again.</p> + +<p>“No, madam.”</p> + +<p>The door of the room they were in was not quite shut, and there was +still a faint murmur of voices from across the hall; but almost +immediately there was the sound of a lifted latch, and then Ralph’s +voice clear and distinct.</p> + +<p>“I will see to it, my lord.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice stood up, feeling a little uneasy. She fancied that perhaps she +ought not to be here; she remembered now the servant’s slight air of +unwillingness to let her in. There was a footfall in the hall, and the +sound of talking; and as Mr. Morris’s hasty step came up the passage, +the door was pushed abruptly open, and Ralph was looking into the room, +with one or two others beyond him.</p> + +<p>“I did not know,” he began, and flushed a little, smiling and making as +if to close the door. But Cromwell’s face, with its long upper lip and +close-set grey eyes, appeared over his shoulder, and Ralph turned round, +almost deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, sir; this is Mistress Atherton, and her woman.”</p> + +<p>Cromwell came forward into the room, with a kind of keen smile, in his +rich dress and chain.</p> + +<p>“Mistress Beatrice Atherton?” he said with a questioning deference; and +Ralph introduced them to one another. Beatrice was conscious of a good +deal of awkwardness. It was uncomfortable to be caught here, as if she +had come to spy out something. She felt herself flushing as she +explained that she had had no idea who was there.</p> + +<p>Cromwell looked at her very pleasantly.</p> + +<p>“There is nothing to ask pardon for, Mistress,” he said. “I knew you +were a friend of Mr. Torridon. He has told me everything.”</p> + +<p>Ralph seemed strangely ill-at-ease, Beatrice thought, as Cromwell +congratulated them both with a very kindly air, and then turned towards +the hall again.</p> + +<p>“My lord,” he called, “my lord—”</p> + +<p>Then Beatrice saw a tall ecclesiastic, clean-shaven, with a strangely +insignificant but kindly face, with square drooping lip and narrow hazel +eyes, come forward in his prelate’s dress; and at the sight of him her +eyes grew hard and her lips tight.</p> + +<p>“My lord,” said Cromwell, “this is Mistress Beatrice Torridon.”</p> + +<p>The prelate put out his hand, smiling faintly, with the ring uppermost +to be kissed. Beatrice stood perfectly still. She could see Ralph at an +angle looking at her imploringly.</p> + +<p>“You know my Lord of Canterbury,” said Cromwell, in an explanatory +voice.</p> + +<p>“I know my Lord of Canterbury,” said Beatrice.</p> + +<p>There was a dead silence for a moment, and then a faint whimper from the +maid.</p> + +<p>Cranmer dropped his hand, but still smiled, turning to Ralph.</p> + +<p>“We must be gone, Mr. Torridon. Master Cromwell has very kindly—”</p> + +<p>Cromwell, who had stood amazed for a moment, turned round at his name.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said to Ralph, “my lord is to come with me. And you will be +at my house to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>He said good-day to the girl, looking at her with an amused interest +that made her flush; and as Dr. Cranmer passed out of the street-door to +the carriage with Ralph bare-headed beside him, he spoke very softly.</p> + +<p>“You are like the others, mistress,” he said; and shook his heavy head +at her like an indulgent father. Then he too turned and went out.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Beatrice went across at once to the other room, leaving her maid behind, +and stood by the hearth as Ralph came in. She heard the door close and +his footstep come across the floor beside her.</p> + +<p>“Beatrice,” said Ralph.</p> + +<p>She turned round and looked at him.</p> + +<p>“You must not scold me,” she said with great serenity. “You must leave +me my conscience.” Ralph’s face cleared instantly.</p> + +<p>“No, no,” he said. “I feared it would be the other way.”</p> + +<p>“A married priest, they say!” remarked the girl, but without bitterness.</p> + +<p>“I daresay, my darling,—but—but I have more tenderness for marriage +than I had.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice’s black eyes just flickered with amusement.</p> + +<p>“Yes; but priests!” she said.</p> + +<p>“Yes—even priests—” said Ralph, smiling back.</p> + +<p>Beatrice turned to a chair and sat down.</p> + +<p>“I suppose I must not ask any questions,” she said, glancing up for a +moment at Ralph’s steady eyes. She thought he looked a little uneasy +still.</p> + +<p>“Oh! I scarcely know,” said Ralph; and he took a turn across the room +and came back. She waited, knowing that she had already put her +question, and secretly pleased that he knew it, and was perplexed by it.</p> + +<p>“I scarcely know,” he said again, standing opposite her. +“Well,—yes—all will know it soon.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I can wait till then,” said Beatrice quickly, not sure whether she +were annoyed or not by being told a secret of such a common nature. +Ralph glanced at her, not sure either.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid—” he began.</p> + +<p>“No—no,” she said, ashamed of her doubt. “I do not wish to know; I can +wait.”</p> + +<p>“I will tell you,” said Ralph. He went and sat down in the chair +opposite, crossing his legs.</p> + +<p>“It is about the Visitation of the Religious Houses. I am to go with the +Visitors in September.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice felt a sudden and rather distressed interest; but she showed no +sign of it.</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes!” she said softly, “and what will be your work?”</p> + +<p>Ralph was reassured by her tone.</p> + +<p>“We are to go to the southern province. I am with Dr. Layton’s party. We +shall make enquiries of the state of Religion, how it is observed and so +forth; and report to Master Cromwell.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice looked down in a slightly side-long way.</p> + +<p>“I know what you are thinking,” said Ralph, his tone a mixture of +amusement and pride. She looked up silently.</p> + +<p>“Yes I knew it was so,” he went on, smiling straight at her. “You are +wondering what in the world I know about Religious Houses. But I have a +brother—”</p> + +<p>A shadow went over her face; Ralph saw she did not like the allusion.</p> + +<p>“Besides,” he went on again, “they need intelligent men, not +ecclesiastics, for this business.”</p> + +<p>“But Dr. Layton?” questioned Beatrice.</p> + +<p>“Well, you might call him an ecclesiastic; but you would scarcely guess +it from himself. And no man could call him a partisan on that side.”</p> + +<p>“He would do better in one of his rectories, I should think,” said +Beatrice.</p> + +<p>“Well, that is not my business,” observed Ralph.</p> + +<p>“And what is your business?”</p> + +<p>“Well, to ride round the country; examine the Religious, and make +enquiries of the country folk.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice began to tap her foot very softly. Ralph glanced down at the +bright buckle and smiled in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>The girl went on.</p> + +<p>“And by whose authority?”</p> + +<p>“By his Grace’s authority.”</p> + +<p>“And Dr. Cranmer’s?”</p> + +<p>“Well, yes; so far as he has any.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” said Beatrice; and cast her eyes down again.</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment or two.</p> + +<p>“You see too that I cannot withdraw,” explained Ralph, a little +distressed at her air. “It is part of my duty.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I understand that,” said Beatrice.</p> + +<p>“And so long as I act justly, there is no harm done.”</p> + +<p>The girl was silent.</p> + +<p>“You understand that?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I suppose I do,” said Beatrice slowly.</p> + +<p>Ralph made a slight impatient movement.</p> + +<p>“No—wait,” said the girl, “I do understand. If I cannot trust you, I +had better never have known you. I do understand that I can trust you; +though I cannot understand how you can do such work.”</p> + +<p>She raised her eyes slowly to his; and Ralph as he looked into them saw +that she was perfectly sincere, and speaking without bitterness.</p> + +<p>“Sweetheart,” he said. “I could not have taken that from any but you; +but I know that you are true, and mean no more nor less than your words. +You do trust me?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes,” said the girl; and smiled at him as he took her in his arms.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>When she had gone again Ralph had a difficult quarter of an hour.</p> + +<p>He knew that she trusted him, but was it not simply because she did not +know? He sat and pondered the talk he had had with Cromwell and the +Archbishop. Neither had expressly said that what was wanted was adverse +testimony against the Religious Houses; but that, Ralph knew very well, +was what was asked of him. They had talked a great deal about the +corruptions that the Visitors would no doubt find, and Cranmer had told +a story or two, with an appearance of great distress, of scandalous +cases that had come under his own notice. Cromwell too had pointed out +that such corruptions did incalculable evil; and that an immoral monk +did far more harm in a countryside than his holy brethren could do of +good. Both had said a word too about the luxury and riches to be found +in the houses of those who professed poverty, and of the injury done to +Christ’s holy religion by such insincere pretences.</p> + +<p>Ralph knew too, from previous meetings with the other Visitors, the kind +of work for which such men would be likely to be selected.</p> + +<p>There was Dr. Richard Layton first, whom Ralph was to join in Sussex at +the end of September, a priest who had two or three preferments and +notoriously neglected them; Ralph had taken a serious dislike to him. He +was a coarse man who knew how to cringe effectively; and Ralph had +listened to him talking to Cromwell, with some dismay. But he would be +to a large extent independent of him, and only in his company at some of +the larger houses that needed more than one Visitor. Thomas Legh, too, a +young doctor of civil law, was scarcely more attractive. He was a man of +an extraordinary arrogance, carrying his head high, and looking about +him with insolently drooping eyes. Ralph had been at once amused and +angry to see him go out into the street after his interview with +Cromwell, where his horse and half-a-dozen footmen awaited him, and to +watch him ride off with the airs of a vulgar prince. The Welshman Ap +Rice too, and the red-faced bully, Dr. London, were hardly persons whom +he desired as associates, and the others were not much better; and Ralph +found himself feeling a little thankful that none of these men had been +in his house just now, when Cromwell and the Archbishop had called in +the former’s carriage, and when Beatrice had met them there.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Ralph had a moment, ten minutes after Beatrice had left, when he was +inclined to snatch up his hat and go after Cromwell to tell him to do +his own dirty work; but his training had told, and he had laughed at the +folly of the thought. Why, of course, the work had to be done! England +was rotten with dreams and superstition. Ecclesiasticism had corrupted +genuine human life, and national sanity could not be restored except by +a violent process. Innocent persons would no doubt suffer—innocent +according to conscience, but guilty against the commonwealth. Every +great movement towards good was bound to be attended by individual +catastrophes; but it was the part of a strong man to carry out +principles and despise details.</p> + +<p>The work had to be done; it was better then that there should be at +least one respectable workman. Of course such a work needed coarse men +to carry it out; it was bound to be accompanied by some brutality; and +his own presence there might do something to keep the brutality within +limits.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>And as for Beatrice—well, Beatrice did not yet understand. If she +understood all as he did, she would sympathise, for she was strong too. +Besides—he had held her in his arms just now, and he knew that love was +king.</p> + +<p>But he sat for ten minutes more in silence, staring with unseeing eyes +at the huddled roofs opposite and the clear sky over them; and the point +of the quill in his fingers was split and cracked when Mr. Morris looked +in to see if his master wanted anything.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_2II">CHAPTER II<br><span class="small">THE BEGINNING OF THE VISITATION</span></h4></div> + + +<p>It was on a wet foggy morning in October that Ralph set out with Mr. +Morris and a couple more servants to join Dr. Layton in the Sussex +visitation. He rode alone in front; and considered as he went.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The Visitation itself, Cromwell had told him almost explicitly, was in +pursuance of the King’s policy to get the Religious Houses, which were +considered to be the strongholds of the papal power in England, under +the authority of the Crown; and also to obtain from them reinforcements +of the royal funds which were running sorely low. The crops were most +disappointing this year, and the King’s tenants were wholly unable to +pay their rents; and it had been thought wiser to make up the deficit +from ecclesiastical wealth rather than to exasperate the Commons by a +direct call upon their resources.</p> + +<p>So far, he knew very well, the attempt to get the Religious Houses into +the King’s power had only partially succeeded. Bishop Fisher’s influence +had availed to stave off the fulfilment of the royal intentions up to +the present; and the oath of supremacy, in which to a large extent the +key of the situation lay, had been by no means universally accepted. +Now, however, the scheme was to be pushed forward; and as a preparation +for it, it was proposed to visit every monastery and convent in the +kingdom, and to render account first of the temporal wealth of each, +and then of the submissiveness of its inmates; and, as Cromwell had +hinted to Ralph, anything that could damage the character of the +Religious would not be unacceptable evidence.</p> + +<p>Ralph was aware that the scheme in which he was engaged was supported in +two ways; first, by the suspension of episcopal authority during the +course of the visitation, and secondly by the vast powers committed to +the visitors. In one of the saddle-bags strapped on to Mr. Morris’s +horse was a sheaf of papers, containing eighty-six articles of enquiry, +and twenty-five injunctions, as well as certificates from the King +endowing Ralph with what was practically papal jurisdiction. He was +authorised to release from their vows all Religious who desired it, and +ordered to dismiss all who had been professed under twenty years of age, +or who were at the present date under twenty-four years old. Besides +this he was commissioned to enforce the enclosure with the utmost +rigour, to set porters at the doors to see that it was observed, and to +encourage all who had any grievance against their superiors to forward +complaints through himself to Cromwell.</p> + +<p>Ralph understood well enough the first object of these regulations, +namely to make monastic life impossible. It was pretty evident that a +rigorous confinement would breed discontent; which in its turn would be +bound to escape through the vent-hole which the power of appeal +provided; thus bringing about a state of anarchy within the house, and +the tightening of the hold of the civil authority upon the Religious.</p> + +<p>Lastly the Visitors were authorised to seize any church furniture or +jewels that they might judge would be better in secular custody.</p> + +<p>Once more, he had learned both from Cromwell, and from his own +experience at Paul’s Cross, how the laity itself was being carefully +prepared for the blow that was impending, by an army of selected +preachers who could be trusted to say what they were told. Only a few +days before Ralph had halted his horse at the outskirts of a huge crowd +gathered round Paul’s Cross, and had listened to a torrent of +vituperation poured out by a famous orator against the mendicant friars; +and from the faces and exclamations of the people round him he had +learned once more that greed was awake in England.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was a somewhat dismal ride that he had this day. The sky was heavy +and overcast, it rained constantly, and the roads were in a more dreary +condition even than usual. He splashed along through the mud with his +servants behind him, wrapped in his cloak; and his own thoughts were not +of a sufficient cheerfulness to compensate for the external discomforts. +His political plane of thought was shot by a personal idea. He guessed +that he would have to commit himself in a manner that he had never done +before; and was not wholly confident that he would be able to explain +matters satisfactorily to Beatrice. Besides, the particular district to +which he was appointed included first Lewes, where Chris would have an +eye on his doings, and secondly the little Benedictine house of Rusper, +where his sister Margaret had been lately professed; and he wondered +what exactly would be his relation with his own family when his work was +done.</p> + +<p>But for the main object of his visitation he had little but sympathy. It +was good, he thought, that a scouring should be made of these idle +houses, and their inmates made more profitable to the commonwealth. And +lastly, whether or no he sympathised, it would be fatal to his career +to refuse the work offered to him.</p> + +<p>As he did not feel very confident at first, he had arranged to meet with +Dr. Layton’s party at the Premonstratension Abbey of Durford, situated +at the borders of Sussex and Hampshire, and there learn the exact +methods to be employed in the visitation; but it was a long ride, and he +took two days over it, sleeping on the way at Waverly in the Cistercian +House. This had not yet been visited, as Dr. Layton was riding up +gradually from the west country, but the rumour of his intentions had +already reached there, and Ralph was received with a pathetic deference +as one of the representatives of the Royal Commission.</p> + +<p>The Abbot was a kindly nervous man, and welcomed Ralph with every sign +of respect at the gate of the abbey, giving contradictory orders about +the horses and the entertainment of the guests to his servants who +seemed in very little awe of him.</p> + +<p>After mass and breakfast on the following morning the Abbot came into +the guest-house and begged for a short interview.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He apologised first for the poorness of the entertainment, saying that +he had done his best. Ralph answered courteously; and the other went on +immediately, standing deferentially before the chair where Ralph was +seated, and fingering his cross.</p> + +<p>“I hope, Mr. Torridon, that it will be you who will visit us; you have +found us all unprepared, and you know that we are doing our best to keep +our Rule. I hope you found nothing that was not to your liking.”</p> + +<p>Ralph bowed and smiled.</p> + +<p>“I would sooner that it were you,” went on the Abbot, “and not another +that visited us. Dr. Layton—”</p> + +<p>He stopped abruptly, embarrassed.</p> + +<p>“You have heard something of him?” questioned Ralph.</p> + +<p>“I know nothing against him,” said the other hastily, “except that they +say that he is sharp with us poor monks. I fear he would find a great +deal here not to his taste. My authority has been so much weakened of +late; I have some discontented brethren—not more than one or two, Mr. +Torridon—and they have learned that they will be able to appeal now to +the King’s Grace, and get themselves set free; and they have ruined the +discipline of the house. I do not wish to hide anything, sir, you see; +but I am terribly afraid that Dr. Layton may be displeased.”</p> + +<p>“I am very sorry, my lord,” said Ralph, “but I fear I shall not be +coming here again.”</p> + +<p>The Abbot’s face fell.</p> + +<p>“But you will speak for us, sir, to Dr. Layton? I heard you say you +would be seeing him to-night.”</p> + +<p>Ralph promised to do his best, and was overwhelmed with thanks.</p> + +<p>He could not help realising some of the pathos of the situation as he +rode on through the rain to Durford. It was plain that a wave of terror +and apprehensiveness was running through the Religious Houses, and that +it brought with it inevitable disorder. Lives that would have been +serene and contented under other circumstances were thrown off their +balance by the rumours of disturbance, and authority was weakened. If +the Rule was hard of observance in tranquil times, it was infinitely +harder when doors of escape presented themselves on all sides.</p> + +<p>And yet he was impatient too. Passive or wavering characters irritated +his own strong temperament, and he felt a kind of anger against the +Abbot and his feeble appeal. Surely men who had nothing else to do might +manage to keep their own subjects in order, and a weak crying for pity +was in itself an argument against their competence. And meanwhile, if he +had known it, he would have been still more incensed, for as he rode on +down towards the south west, the Abbot and his monks in the house he had +left were prostrate before the high altar in the dark church, each in +his stall, praying for mercy.</p> + +<p>“O God, the heathens are come into thine inheritance,” they murmured, +“they have defiled thy holy temple.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was not until the sun was going down in the stormy west that Ralph +rode up to Durford abbey. The rain had ceased an hour before sunset, and +the wet roofs shone in the evening light.</p> + +<p>There were certain signs of stir as he came up. One or two idlers were +standing outside the gate-house; the door was wide open, and a couple of +horses were being led away round the corner.</p> + +<p>Inside the court as he rode through he saw further signs of confusion. +Half a dozen packhorses were waiting with hanging heads outside the +stable door, and an agitated lay brother was explaining to a canon in +his white habit, rochet and cap, that there was no more room. He threw +out his hands with a gesture of despair towards Ralph as he came in.</p> + +<p>“Mother of God!” he said, “here is another of them.”</p> + +<p>The priest frowned at him, and hurried up to Ralph.</p> + +<p>“Yes, father,” said Ralph, “I am another of them.”</p> + +<p>The canon explained that the stable was full, that they were +exceedingly sorry, but that they were but a poor house; and that he was +glad to say there was an outhouse round the corner outside where the +beasts could be lodged.</p> + +<p>“But as for yourself, sir,” he said, “I know not what to do. We have +every room full. You are a friend of Dr. Layton’s, sir?”</p> + +<p>“I am one of the Visitors,” said Ralph. “You must make room.”</p> + +<p>The priest sucked his lips in.</p> + +<p>“I see nothing for it,” he said, “Dr. Layton and you, sir, must share a +room.”</p> + +<p>Ralph threw a leg over the saddle and slipped to the ground.</p> + +<p>“Where is he?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“He is with my Lord Abbot, sir,” he said. “Will you come with me?”</p> + +<p>The canon led the way across the court, his white fur tails swinging as +he went, and took Ralph through the cloister into one of the parlours. +There was a sound of a high scolding voice as he threw open the door.</p> + +<p>“What in God’s name are ye for then, if ye have not hospitality?”</p> + +<p>Dr. Layton turned round as Ralph came in. He was flushed with passion; +his mouth worked, and his eyes were brutal.</p> + +<p>“See this, Mr. Torridon,” he said. “There is neither room for man or +beast in this damned abbey. The guest house has no more than half a +dozen rooms, and the stable—why, it is not fit for pigs, let alone the +horses of the King’s Visitors.”</p> + +<p>The Abbot, a young man with a delicate face, very pale now and +trembling, broke in deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>“I am very sorry, gentlemen,” he said, looking from one to the other, +“but it is not my fault. It is in better repair than when I came to it. +I have done my best with my Lord Abbot of Welbeck; but we are very poor, +and he can give me no more.”</p> + +<p>Layton growled at him.</p> + +<p>“I don’t say it’s you, man; we shall know better when we have looked +into your accounts; but I’ll have a word to say at Welbeck.”</p> + +<p>“We are to share a room, Dr. Layton,” put in Ralph. “At least—”</p> + +<p>The doctor turned round again at that, and stormed once more.</p> + +<p>“I cannot help it, gentlemen,” retorted the Abbot desperately. “I have +given up my own chamber already. I can but do my best.”</p> + +<p>Ralph hastened to interpose. His mind revolted at this coarse bullying, +in spite of his contempt at this patient tolerance on the part of the +Abbot.</p> + +<p>“I shall do very well, my Lord Abbot,” he said. “I shall give no +trouble. You may put me where you please.”</p> + +<p>The young prelate looked at him gratefully.</p> + +<p>“We will do our best, sir,” he said. “Will you come, gentlemen, and see +your chambers?”</p> + +<p>Layton explained to Ralph as they went along the poor little cloister +that he himself had only arrived an hour before.</p> + +<p>“I had a rare time among the monks,” he whispered, “and have some tales +to make you laugh.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He grew impatient again presently at the poor furnishing of the rooms, +and kicked over a broken chair.</p> + +<p>“I will have something better than that,” he said. “Get me one from the +church.”</p> + +<p>The young Abbot faced him.</p> + +<p>“What do you want of us, Dr. Layton? Is it riches or poverty? Which +think you that Religious ought to have?”</p> + +<p>The priest gave a bark of laughter.</p> + +<p>“You have me there, my lord,” he said; and nudged Ralph.</p> + +<p>They sat down to supper presently in the parlour downstairs, a couple of +dishes of meat, and a bottle of Spanish wine. Dr. Layton grew voluble.</p> + +<p>“I have a deal to tell you, Mr. Torridon,” he said, “and not a few +things to show you,—silver crosses and such like; but those we will +look at to-morrow. I doubt whether we shall add much to it here, though +there is a relic-case that would look well on Master Cromwell’s table; +it is all set with agates. But the tales you shall have now. My servant +will be here directly with the papers.”</p> + +<p>A man came in presently with a bag of documents, and Layton seized them +eagerly.</p> + +<p>“See here, Mr. Torridon,” he said, shaking the papers on to the table, +“here is a story-box for the ladies. Draw your chair to the fire.”</p> + +<p>Ralph felt an increasing repugnance for the man; but he said nothing; +and brought up his seat to the wide hearth on which the logs burned +pleasantly in the cold little room.</p> + +<p>The priest lifted the bundle on to his lap, crossed his legs +comfortably, with a glass of wine at his elbow, and began to read.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>For a while Ralph wondered how the man could have the effrontery to call +his notes by the name of evidence. They consisted of a string of obscene +guesses, founded upon circumstances that were certainly compatible with +guilt, but no less compatible with innocence. There was a quantity of +gossip gathered from country-people and coloured by the most flagrant +animus, and even so the witnesses did not agree. Such sentences as “It +is reported in the country round that the prior is a lewd man” were +frequent in the course of the reading, and were often the chief evidence +offered in a case.</p> + +<p>In one of the most categorical stories, Ralph leaned forward and +interrupted.</p> + +<p>“Forgive me, Master Layton,” he said, “but who is Master What’s-his-name +who says all this?”</p> + +<p>The priest waved the paper in the air.</p> + +<p>“A monk himself,” he said, “a monk himself! That is the cream of it.”</p> + +<p>“A monk!” exclaimed Ralph.</p> + +<p>“He was one till last year,” explained the priest.</p> + +<p>“And then?” said the other.</p> + +<p>“He was expelled the monastery. He knew too much, you see.”</p> + +<p>Ralph leaned back.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Half an hour later there was a change in his attitude: his doubts were +almost gone; the flood of detail was too vast to be dismissed as wholly +irrelevant; his imagination was affected by the evidence from without +and his will from within, and he listened without hostility, telling +himself that he desired only truth and justice.</p> + +<p>There were at least half a dozen stories in the mass of filthy suspicion +that the priest exultingly poured out which appeared convincing; +particularly one about which Ralph put a number of questions.</p> + +<p>In this there was first a quantity of vague evidence gathered from the +country-folk, who were, unless Layton lied quite unrestrainedly, +convinced of the immoral life of a certain monk. The report of his sin +had penetrated ten miles from the house where he lived. There was +besides definite testimony from one of his fellows, precise and +detailed; and there was lastly a half admission from the culprit +himself. All this was worked up with great skill—suggestive epithets +were plastered over the weak spots in the evidence; clever theories put +forward to account for certain incompatibilities; and to Ralph at least +it was convincing.</p> + +<p>He found himself growing hot with anger at the thought of the hypocrisy +of this monk’s life. Here the fellow had been living in gross sin month +after month, and all the while standing at the altar morning by morning, +and going about in the habit of a professed servant of Jesus Christ!</p> + +<p>“But I have kept the cream till the last,” put in Dr. Layton. And he +read out a few more hideous sentences, that set Ralph’s heart heaving +with disgust.</p> + +<p>He began now to feel the beginnings of that fury against white-washed +vice with which worldly souls are so quick to burn. He would have said +that he himself professed no holiness beyond the average, and would have +acknowledged privately at least that he was at any rate uncertain of the +whole dogmatic scheme of religion; but that he could not tolerate a man +whose whole life was on the outside confessedly devoted to both sides of +religion, faith and morals, and who claimed the world’s reverence for +himself on the score of it. He knit his forehead in a righteous fury, +and his fingers began to drum softly on his chair-arms.</p> + +<p>Dr. Layton now began to recur to some of the first stories he had told, +and to build up their weak places; and now that Ralph was roused his +critical faculty subsided. They appeared more convincing than before in +the light of this later evidence. <i>Ex pede Herculem</i>—from the fellow +who had confessed he interpreted the guilt of those who had not. The +seed of suspicion sprang quickly in the soil that hungered for it.</p> + +<p>This then was the fair religious system that was dispersed over England; +and this the interior life of those holy looking roofs and buildings +surmounted by the sign of the Crucified, visible in every town to point +men to God. When he saw a serene monk’s face again he would know what +kind of soul it covered; he would understand as never before how vice +could wear a mask of virtue.</p> + +<p>The whole of that flimsy evidence that he had heard before took a new +colour; those hints and suspicions and guesses grew from shadow to +substance. Those dark spots were not casual filth dropped from above, +they were the symptoms of a deep internal infection.</p> + +<p>As Dr. Layton went on with his tales, gathered and garnered with +devilish adroitness, and presented as convincingly as a clever brain +could do it, the black certainty fell deeper and deeper on Ralph’s soul, +and by the time that the priest chuckled for the last time that evening, +and gathered up his papers from the boards where they had fallen one by +one, he had done his work in another soul.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_2III">CHAPTER III<br><span class="small">A HOUSE OF LADIES</span></h4></div> + + +<p>They parted the next day, Dr. Layton to Waverly, where he proposed to +sleep on Saturday night, and Ralph to the convent at Rusper.</p> + +<p>He had learnt now how the work was to be done; and he had been equipped +for it in a way that not even Dr. Layton himself suspected; for he had +been set aflame with that filth-fed fire with which so many hearts were +burning at this time. He had all the saint’s passion for purity, without +the charity of his holiness.</p> + +<p>He had learnt too the technical details of his work—those rough methods +by which men might be coerced, and the high-sounding phrases with which +to gild the coercion. All that morning he had sat side by side with Dr. +Layton in the chapter-house, inspecting the books, comparing the +possessions of the monastery with the inventories of them, examining +witnesses as to the credibility of the lists offered, and making +searching enquiries as to whether any land or plate had been sold. After +that, when a silver relic-case had been added to Dr. Layton’s +collection, the Religious and servants and all else who cared to offer +evidence on other matters, were questioned one by one and their answers +entered in a book. Lastly, when the fees for the Visitation had been +collected, arrangements had been made, which in the Visitors’ opinion, +would be most serviceable to the carrying out of the injunctions; fresh +officials were appointed to various posts, and the Abbot himself +ordered to go up to London and present himself to Master Cromwell; but +he was furnished with a letter commending his zeal and discretion, for +the Visitors had found that he had done his duty to the buildings and +lands; and stated that they had nothing to complain of except the +poverty of the house.</p> + +<p>“And so much for Durford,” said Layton genially, as he closed the last +book just before dinner-time, “though it had been better called +Dirtyford.” And he chuckled at his humour.</p> + +<p>After dinner he had gone out with Ralph to see him mount; had thanked +him for his assistance, and had reminded him that they would meet again +at Lewes in the course of a month or so.</p> + +<p>“God speed you!” he cried as the party rode off.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Ralph’s fury had died to a glow, but it was red within him; the reading +last night had done its work well, driven home by the shrewd conviction +of a man of the world, experienced in the ways of vice. It had not died +with the dark. He could not say that he was attracted to Dr. Layton; the +priest’s shocking familiarity with the more revolting forms of sin, as +well as his under-breeding and brutality, made him a disagreeable +character; but Ralph had very little doubt now that his judgment on the +religious houses was a right one. Even the nunneries, it seemed, were +not free from taint; there had been one or two terrible tales on the +previous evening; and Ralph was determined to spare them nothing, and at +any rate to remove his sister from their power. He remembered with +satisfaction that she was below the age specified, and that he would +have authority to dismiss her from the home.</p> + +<p>He knew very little of Margaret; and had scarcely seen her once in two +years. He had been already out in the world before she had ceased to be +a child, and from what little he had seen of her he had thought of her +but as little more than a milk-and-water creature, very delicate and +shy, always at her prayers, or trailing about after nuns with a pale +radiant face. She had been sent to Rusper for her education, and he +never saw her except now and then when they chanced to be at home +together for a few days. She used to look at him, he remembered, with +awe-stricken eyes and parted lips, hardly daring to speak when he was in +the room, continually to be met with going from or to the tall quiet +chapel.</p> + +<p>He had always supposed that she would be a nun, and had acquiesced in it +in a cynical sort of way; but he was going to acquiesce no longer now. +Of course she would sob, but equally of course she would not dare to +resist.</p> + +<p>He called Morris up to him presently as they emerged from one of the +bridle paths on to a kind of lane where two could ride abreast. The +servant had seemed oddly silent that morning.</p> + +<p>“We are going to Rusper,” said Ralph.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Mistress Margaret is there.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“She will come away with us. I may have to send you on to Overfield with +her. You must find a horse for her somehow.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>There was silence between the two for a minute or two. Mr. Morris had +answered with as much composure as if he had been told to brush a coat. +Ralph began to wonder what he really felt.</p> + +<p>“What do you think of all this, Morris?” he asked in a moment or two.</p> + +<p>The servant was silent, till Ralph glanced at him impatiently.</p> + +<p>“It is not for me to have an opinion, sir,” said Mr. Morris.</p> + +<p>Ralph gave a very short laugh.</p> + +<p>“You haven’t heard what I have,” he said, “or you would soon have an +opinion.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Morris as impassively as before.</p> + +<p>“I tell you—” and then Ralph broke off, and rode on silent and moody. +Mr. Morris gradually let his horse fall back behind his master.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>They began to come towards Rusper as the evening drew in, by a bridle +path that led from the west, and on arriving at the village found that +they had overshot their mark, and ought to have turned sooner. The +nunnery, a man told them, was a mile away to the south-west. Ralph made +a few enquiries, and learnt that it was a smallish house, and that it +was scarcely likely that room could be found for his party of four; so +he left Morris to make enquiries for lodgings in the village, and +himself rode on alone to the nunnery, past the church and the +timberhouses.</p> + +<p>It was a bad road, and his tired horse had to pick his way very slowly, +so that it was nearly dark before he came to his destination, and the +pointed roofs rose before him against the faintly luminous western sky. +There were lights in one or two windows as he came up that looked warm +and homely in the chill darkness; and as he sat on his horse listening +to the jangle of the bell within, just a breath of doubtfulness touched +his heart for a moment as he thought of the peaceful home-life that lay +packed within those walls, and of the errand on which he had come.</p> + +<p>But the memory of the tales he had heard, haunted him still; and he +spoke in a harsh voice as the shutter slid back, and a little +criss-crossed square of light appeared in the black doorway.</p> + +<p>“I am one of the King’s Visitors,” he said. “Let my Lady Abbess know I +am here. I must speak with her.”</p> + +<p>There was a stifled sound behind the grating; and Ralph caught a glimpse +of a pair of eyes looking at him. Then the square grew dark again. It +was a minute or two before anything further happened, and Ralph as he +sat cold and hungry on his horse, began to grow impatient. His hand was +on the twisted iron handle to ring again fiercely, when there was a step +within, and a light once more shone out.</p> + +<p>“Who is it?” said an old woman’s voice, with a note of anxiety in it.</p> + +<p>“I have sent word in,” said Ralph peevishly, “that I am one of the +King’s Visitors. I should be obliged if I might not be kept here all +night.”</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s silence; the horse sighed sonorously.</p> + +<p>“How am I to know, sir?” said the voice again.</p> + +<p>“Because I tell you so,” snapped Ralph. “And if more is wanted, my name +is Torridon. You have a sister of mine in there.”</p> + +<p>There was an exclamation from within; and the sound of whispering; and +then hasty footsteps went softly across the paved court inside.</p> + +<p>The voice spoke again.</p> + +<p>“I ask your pardon, sir; but have you any paper—or—”</p> + +<p>Ralph snatched out a document of identification, and leaned forward +from his horse to pass it through the opening. He felt trembling fingers +take it from him; and a moment later heard returning footsteps.</p> + +<p>There was a rustle of paper, and then a whisper within.</p> + +<p>“Well, my dear?”</p> + +<p>Something shifted in the bright square, and it grew gloomy as a face +pressed up against the bars. Then again it shifted and the light shone +out, and a flutter of whispers followed.</p> + +<p>“Really, madam—” began Ralph; but there was the jingle of keys, and the +sound of panting, and almost immediately a bolt shot back, followed by +the noise of a key turning. A chorus of whispers broke out and a scurry +of footsteps, and then the door opened inwards and a little old woman +stood there in a black habit, her face swathed in white above and below. +The others had vanished.</p> + +<p>“I am very sorry, Mr. Torridon, to have kept you at the door; but we +have to be very careful. Will you bring your horse in, sir?”</p> + +<p>Ralph was a little abashed by the sudden development of the situation, +and explained that he had only come to announce his arrival; he had +supposed that there would not be room at the nunnery.</p> + +<p>“But we have a little guest-house here,” announced the old lady with a +dignified air, “and room for your horse.”</p> + +<p>Ralph hesitated; but he was tired and hungry.</p> + +<p>“Come in, Mr. Torridon. You had better dismount and lead your horse in. +Sister Anne will see to it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if you are sure—” began Ralph again, slipping a foot out of the +stirrup.</p> + +<p>“I am sure,” said the Abbess; and stood aside for him and his beast to +pass.</p> + +<p>There was a little court, lighted by a single lamp burning within a +window, with the nunnery itself on one side, and a small cottage on the +other. Beyond the latter rose the roofs of an outhouse.</p> + +<p>As Ralph came in, the door from the nunnery opened again, and a lay +sister came out hastily; she moved straight across and took the horse by +the bridle.</p> + +<p>“Give him a good meal, sister,” said the Abbess; and went past Ralph to +the door of the guest-house.</p> + +<p>“Come in, Mr. Torridon; there will be lights immediately.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>In half an hour Ralph found himself at supper in the guest-parlour; a +bright fire crackled on the hearth, a couple of candles burned on the +table, and a pair of old darned green curtains hung across the low +window.</p> + +<p>The Abbess came in when he had finished, dismissed the lay-sister who +had waited on him, and sat down herself.</p> + +<p>“You shall see your sister to-morrow, Mr. Torridon,” she said, “it is a +little late now. I have sent the boy up to the village for your servant; +he can sleep in this room if you wish. I fear we have no room for more.”</p> + +<p>Ralph watched her as she talked. She was very old, with hanging cheeks, +and solemn little short-sighted eyes, for she peered at him now and +again across the candles. Her upper lip was covered with a slight growth +of dark hair. She seemed strangely harmless; and Ralph had another prick +of compunction as he thought of the news he had to give her on the +morrow. He wondered how much she knew.</p> + +<p>“We are so glad it is you, Mr. Torridon, that have come to visit us. We +feared it might be Dr. Layton; we have heard sad stories of him.”</p> + +<p>Ralph hardened his heart.</p> + +<p>“He has only done his duty, Reverend Mother,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Oh! but you cannot have heard,” exclaimed the old lady. “He has robbed +several of our houses we hear—even the altar itself. And he has turned +away some of our nuns.”</p> + +<p>Ralph was silent; he thought he would at least leave the old lady in +peace for this last night. She seemed to want no answer; but went on +expatiating on the horrors that were happening round them, the wicked +accusations brought against the Religious, and the Divine vengeance that +would surely fall on those who were responsible.</p> + +<p>Finally she turned and questioned him, with a mingling of deference and +dignity.</p> + +<p>“What do you wish from us, Mr. Torridon? You must tell me, that I may +see that everything is in order.”</p> + +<p>Ralph was secretly amused by her air of innocent assurance.</p> + +<p>“That is my business, Reverend Mother. I must ask for all the books of +the house, with the account of any sales you may have effected, properly +recorded. I must have a list of the inmates of the house, with a +statement of any corrodies attached; and the names and ages and dates of +profession of all the Religious.”</p> + +<p>The Abbess blinked for a moment.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mr. Torridon. You will allow me of course to see all your papers +to-morrow; it is necessary for me to be certified that all your part is +in order.”</p> + +<p>Ralph smiled a little grimly.</p> + +<p>“You shall see all that,” he said. “And then there is more that I must +ask; but that will do for a beginning. When I have shown you my papers +you will see what it is that I want.”</p> + +<p>There was a peal at the bell outside; the Abbess turned her head and +waited till there was a noise of bolts and unlocking.</p> + +<p>“That will be your man, sir. Will you have him in now, Mr. Torridon?”</p> + +<p>Ralph assented.</p> + +<p>“And then he must look at the horses to see that all is as you wish.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Morris came in a moment later, and bowed with great deference to the +little old lady, who enquired his name.</p> + +<p>“When you have finished with your man, Mr. Torridon, perhaps you will +allow him to ring for me at the door opposite. I will go with him to see +the horses.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Morris had brought with him the mass of his master’s papers, and +when he had set these out and prepared the bedroom that opened out of +the guest-parlour, he asked leave to go across and fetch the Abbess.</p> + +<p>Ralph busied himself for half-an-hour or so in running over the Articles +and Injunctions once more, and satisfying himself that he was perfect in +his business; and he was just beginning to wonder why his servant had +not reappeared when the door opened once more, and Mr. Morris slipped +in.</p> + +<p>“My horse is a little lame, sir,” he said. “I have been putting on a +poultice.”</p> + +<p>Ralph glanced up.</p> + +<p>“He will be fit to travel, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“In a day or two, Mr. Ralph.”</p> + +<p>“Well; that will do. We shall be here till Monday at least.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Ralph could not sleep very well that night. The thought of his business +troubled him a little. It would have been easier if the Abbess had been +either more submissive or more defiant; but her air of mingled courtesy +and dignity affected him. Her innocence too had something touching in +it, and her apparent ignorance of what his visit meant. He had supped +excellently at her expense, waited on by a cheerful sister, and well +served from the kitchen and cellar; and the Reverend Mother herself had +come in and talked sensibly and bravely. He pictured to himself what +life must be like through the nunnery wall opposite—how brisk and +punctual it must be, and at the same time homely and caressing.</p> + +<p>And it was his hand that was to pull down the first prop. There would no +doubt be three or four nuns below age who must be dismissed, and +probably there would be a few treasures to be carried off, a +processional crucifix perhaps, such as he had seen in Dr. Layton’s +collection, and a rich chalice or two, used on great days. His own +sister too must be one of those who must go. How would the little old +Abbess behave herself then? What would she say? Yet he comforted +himself, as he lay there in the clean, low-ceilinged room, staring at +the tiny crockery stoup gleaming against the door-post, by recollecting +the principle on which he had come. Possibly a few innocents would have +to suffer, a few old hearts be broken; but it was for a man to take such +things in his day’s work.</p> + +<p>And then as he remembered Dr. Layton’s tales, his heart grew hot and +hard again.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_2IV">CHAPTER IV<br><span class="small">AN UNEXPECTED MEETING</span></h4></div> + + +<p>The enquiry was to be made in the guest-parlour on the next morning.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Ralph went to mass first at nine o’clock, which was said by a priest +from the parish church who acted as chaplain to the convent; and had a +chair set for him outside the nuns’ choir from which he could see the +altar and the tall pointed window; and then, after some refreshment in +the guest-parlour, spread out his papers, and sat enthroned behind a +couple of tables, as at a tribunal. Mr. Morris stood deferentially by +his chair as the examination was conducted.</p> + +<p>Ralph was a little taken aback by the bearing of the Abbess. In the +course of the enquiry, when he was perplexed by one or two of the +records, she rose from her chair before the table, and came round to his +side, drawing up a seat as she did so; Ralph could hardly tell her to go +back, but his magisterial air was a little affected by having one whom +he almost considered as a culprit sitting judicially beside him.</p> + +<p>“It is better for me to be here,” she said. “I can explain more easily +so.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There was a little orchard that the nuns had sold in the previous year; +and Ralph asked for an explanation.</p> + +<p>“It came from the Kingsford family,” she said serenely; “it was useless +to us.”</p> + +<p>“But—” began the inquisitor.</p> + +<p>“We needed some new vestments,” she went on. “You will understand, Mr. +Torridon, that it was necessary for us to sell it. We are not rich +at all.”</p> + +<p>There was nothing else that called for comment; except the manner in +which the books were kept. Ralph suggested some other method.</p> + +<p>“Dame Agnes has her own ways,” said the old lady. “We must not disturb +her.”</p> + +<p>And Dame Agnes assumed a profound and financial air on the other side of +the table.</p> + +<p>Presently Ralph put a mark in the inventory against a “cope of gold +bawdekin,” and requested that it might be brought.</p> + +<p>The sister-sacristan rose at a word from the Abbess and went out, +returning presently with the vestment. She unfolded the coverings and +spread it out on the table before Ralph.</p> + +<p>It was a magnificent piece of work, of shimmering gold, with orphreys +embroidered with arms; and she stroked out its folds with obvious pride.</p> + +<p>“These are Warham’s arms,” observed the Abbess. “You know them, Mr. +Torridon? We worked these the month before his death.”</p> + +<p>Ralph nodded briskly.</p> + +<p>“Will you kindly leave it here, Reverend Mother,” he said. “I wish to +see it again presently.”</p> + +<p>The Abbess gave no hint of discomposure, but signed to the sacristan to +place it over a chair at one side.</p> + +<p>There were a couple of other things that Ralph presently caused to be +fetched and laid aside—a precious mitre with a couple of cameos in +front, and bordered with emeralds, and a censer with silver filigree +work.</p> + +<p>Then came a more difficult business.</p> + +<p>“I wish to see the nuns one by one, Reverend Mother,” he said. “I must +ask you to withdraw.”</p> + +<p>The Abbess gave him a quick look, and then rose.</p> + +<p>“Very well, sir, I will send them in.” And she went out with Mr. Morris +behind her.</p> + +<p>They came in one by one, and sat down before the table, with downcast +eyes, and hands hidden beneath their scapulars; and all told the same +tale, except one. They had nothing to complain of; they were happy; the +Rule was carefully observed; there were no scandals to be revealed; they +asked nothing but to be left in peace. But there was one who came in +nervously and anxiously towards the end, a woman with quick black eyes, +who glanced up and down and at the door as she sat down. Ralph put the +usual questions.</p> + +<p>“I wish to be released, sir,” she said. “I am weary of the life, and +the—” she stopped and glanced swiftly up again at the commissioner.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Ralph.</p> + +<p>“The papistical ways,” she said.</p> + +<p>Ralph felt a sudden distrust of the woman; but he hardened his heart. He +set a mark opposite her name; she had been professed ten years, he saw +by the list.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” he said; “I will tell my Lady Abbess.” She still hesitated +a moment.</p> + +<p>“There will be a provision for me?” she asked</p> + +<p>“There will be a provision,” said Ralph a little grimly. He was +authorised to offer in such cases a secular dress and a sum of five +shillings.</p> + +<p>Lastly came in Margaret herself.</p> + +<p>Ralph hardly knew her. He had been unable to distinguish her at mass, +and even now as she faced him in her black habit and white head-dress it +was hard to be certain of her identity. But memory and sight were +gradually reconciled; he remembered her delicate eyebrows and thin +straight lips; and when she spoke he knew her voice.</p> + +<p>They talked a minute or two about their home; but Ralph did not dare to +say too much, considering what he had yet to say.</p> + +<p>“I must ask you the questions,” he said at last, smiling at her.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him nervously, and dropped her eyes once more.</p> + +<p>She nodded or shook her head in silence at each enquiry, until at last +one bearing upon the morals of the house came up; then she looked +swiftly up once more, and Ralph saw that her grey eyes were terrified.</p> + +<p>“You must tell me,” he said; and put the question again.</p> + +<p>“I do not know what you mean,” she answered, staring at him bewildered.</p> + +<p>Ralph went on immediately to the next.</p> + +<p>At last he reached the crisis.</p> + +<p>“Margaret,” he said, “I have something to tell you.” He stopped and +began to play with his pen. He had seldom felt so embarrassed as now in +the presence of this shy sister of his of whom he knew so little. He +could not look at her.</p> + +<p>“Margaret, you know, you—you are under age. The King’s Grace has +ordered that all under twenty years of age are to leave their convents.”</p> + +<p>There was a dead silence.</p> + +<p>Ralph was enraged with his own weakness. He had begun the morning’s work +with such determination; but the strange sweet atmosphere of the house, +the file of women coming in one by one with their air of innocence and +defencelessness had affected him. In spite of himself his religious side +had asserted itself, and he found himself almost tremulous now.</p> + +<p>He made a great effort at self-repression, and looked up with hard +bright eyes at his sister.</p> + +<p>“There must be no crying or rebellion,” he said. “You must come with me +to-morrow. I shall send you to Overfield.”</p> + +<p>Still Margaret said nothing. She was staring at him now, white-faced +with parted lips.</p> + +<p>“You are the last?” he said with a touch of harshness, standing up with +his hands on the table. “Tell the Reverend Mother I have done.”</p> + +<p>Then she rose too.</p> + +<p>“Ralph,” she cried, “my brother! For Jesu’s sake—”</p> + +<p>“Tell the Reverend Mother,” he said again, his eyes hard with decision.</p> + +<p>She turned and went out without a word.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Ralph found the interview with the Abbess even more difficult than he +had expected.</p> + +<p>Once her face twitched with tears; but she drove them back bravely and +faced him again.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Torridon, that you intend to take your +sister away?”</p> + +<p>Ralph bowed.</p> + +<p>“And that Dame Martha has asked to be released?”</p> + +<p>Again he bowed.</p> + +<p>“Are you not afraid, sir, to do such work?”</p> + +<p>Ralph smiled bitterly.</p> + +<p>“I am not, Reverend Mother,” he said. “I know too much.”</p> + +<p>“From whom?”</p> + +<p>“Oh! not from your nuns,” he said sharply, “they of course know nothing, +or at least will tell me nothing. It was from Dr. Layton.”</p> + +<p>“And what did Dr. Layton tell you?”</p> + +<p>“I can hardly tell you that, Reverend Mother; it is not fit for your +ears.”</p> + +<p>She looked at him steadily.</p> + +<p>“And you believe it?”</p> + +<p>Ralph smiled.</p> + +<p>“That makes no difference,” he said. “I am acting by his Grace’s +orders.”</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment.</p> + +<p>“Then may our Lord have mercy on you!” she said.</p> + +<p>She turned to where the gold cope gleamed over the chair, with the mitre +and censer lying on its folds.</p> + +<p>“And those too?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Those too,” said Ralph.</p> + +<p>She turned towards the door without a word.</p> + +<p>“There are the fees as well,” remarked Ralph. “We can arrange those this +evening, Reverend Mother.”</p> + +<p>The little stiff figure turned and waited at the door. “And at what time +will you dine, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Immediately,” said Ralph.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He was served at dinner with the same courtesy as before; but the lay +sister’s eyes were red, and her hands shook as she shifted the plates. +Neither spoke a word till towards the end of the meal.</p> + +<p>“Where is my man?” asked Ralph, who had not seen him since he had gone +out with the Abbess a couple of hours before.</p> + +<p>The sister shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Where is the Reverend Mother?”</p> + +<p>Again she shook her head.</p> + +<p>Ralph enquired the hour of Vespers, and when he had learnt it, took his +cap and went out to look for Mr. Morris. He went first to the little +dark outhouse, and peered in over the bottom half of the door, but there +was no sign of him there. He could see a horse standing in a stall +opposite, and tried to make out the second horse that he knew was there; +but it was too dark, and he turned away.</p> + +<p>It was a warm October afternoon as he went out through the gatehouse, +still and bright, with the mellow smell of dying leaves in the air; the +fields stretched away beyond the road into the blue distance as he went +along, and were backed by the thinning woods, still ruddy with the last +flames of autumn. Overhead the blue sky, washed with recent rains, +arched itself in a great transparent vault, and a stream of birds +crossed it from east to west.</p> + +<p>He went round the corner of the convent buildings and turned up into a +meadow beside a thick privet hedge that divided it from the garden, and +as he moved along he heard a low humming noise sounding from the other +side.</p> + +<p>There was a door in the hedge at the point, and at either side the +growth was a little thin, and he could look through without being +himself seen.</p> + +<p>The grass was trim and smooth inside; there was a mass of autumn +flowers, grown no doubt for the altar, running in a broad bed across the +nearer side of the garden, and beyond it rose a grey dial, round which +sat a circle of nuns.</p> + +<p>Ralph pressed his face to the hedge and watched.</p> + +<p>There they were, each with her wheel before her, spinning in silence. +The Abbess sat in the centre, immediately below the dial, with a book in +her hand, and was turning the pages.</p> + +<p>He could see a nun’s face steadily bent on her wheel—that was Dame +Agnes who had fetched the cope for him in the morning. She seemed +perfectly quiet and unaffected, watching her thread, and putting out a +deft hand now and again to the machinery. Beside her sat another, whose +face he remembered well; she had stammered a little as she gave her +answers in the morning, and even as he looked the face twitched +suddenly, and broke into tears. He saw the Abbess turn from her book and +lay her hand, with a kind of tender decision on the nun’s arm, and saw +her lips move, but the hum and rattle of the spinning-wheels was too +loud to let him hear what she said; he saw now the other nun lift her +face again from her hands, and wink away her tears as she laid hold of +the thread once more.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Ralph had a strange struggle with himself that afternoon as he walked on +in the pleasant autumn weather through meadow and copse. The sight of +the patient women had touched him profoundly. Surely it was almost too +much to ask him to turn away his own sister from the place she loved! If +he relented, it was certain that no other Visitor would come that way +for the present; she might at least have another year or two of peace. +Was it too late?</p> + +<p>He reminded himself again how such things were bound to happen; how +every change, however beneficial, must bring sorrow with it, and that to +turn back on such work because a few women suffered was not worthy of a +man. It was long before he could come to any decision, and the evening +was drawing on, and the time for Vespers come and gone before he turned +at last into the village to enquire for his servant.</p> + +<p>The other men had seen nothing of Mr. Morris that day; he had not been +back to the village.</p> + +<p>A group or two stared awefully at the fine gentleman with the strong +face and steady intolerant eyes, as he strode down the tiny street in +his rich dress, swinging his long silver-headed cane. They had learnt +who he was now, but were so overcome by seeing the King’s Commissioner +that they forgot to salute him. As he turned the corner again he looked +round once more, and there they were still watching him. A few women had +come to the doors as well, and dropped their arched hands hastily and +disappeared as he turned.</p> + +<p>The convent seemed all as he had left it earlier in the afternoon, as he +came in sight of it again. The high chapel roof rose clear against the +reddening sky, with the bell framed in its turret distinct as if carved +out of cardboard against the splendour.</p> + +<p>He was admitted instantly when he rang on the bell, but the portress +seemed to look at him with a strange air of expectancy, and stood +looking after him as he went across the paved court to the door of the +guest-house.</p> + +<p>There was a murmur of voices in the parlour as he paused in the entry, +and he wondered who was within, but as his foot rang out the sound +ceased.</p> + +<p>He opened the door and went in; and then stopped bewildered.</p> + +<p>In the dim light that passed through the window stood his father and +Mary Maxwell, his sister.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_2V">CHAPTER V<br><span class="small">FATHER AND SON</span></h4></div> + + +<p>None of the three spoke for a moment.</p> + +<p>Then Mary drew her breath sharply as she saw Ralph’s face, for it had +hardened during that moment into a kind of blind obstinacy which she had +only seen once or twice in her life before.</p> + +<p>As he stood there he seemed to stiffen into resistance. His eyelids +drooped, and little lines showed themselves suddenly at either side of +his thin mouth. His father saw it too, for the hand that he had lifted +entreatingly sank again, and his voice was tremulous as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“Ralph—Ralph, my son!” he said.</p> + +<p>Still the man said nothing; but stood frozen, his face half-turned to +the windows.</p> + +<p>“Ralph, my son,” said the other again, “you know why we have come.”</p> + +<p>“You have come to hinder my business.”</p> + +<p>His voice was thin and metallic, as rigid as steel.</p> + +<p>“We have come to hinder a great sin against God,” said Sir James.</p> + +<p>Ralph opened his eyes wide with a sort of fury, and thrust his chin out.</p> + +<p>“She should pack a thousand times more now than before,” he said.</p> + +<p>The father’s face too deepened into strength now, and he drew himself +up.</p> + +<p>“Do you know what you are doing?” he said.</p> + +<p>“I do, sir.”</p> + +<p>There was an extraordinary insolence in his voice, and Mary took a step +forward.</p> + +<p>“Oh! Ralph,” she said, “at least do it like a gentleman!”</p> + +<p>Ralph turned on her sharply, and the obstinacy vanished in anger.</p> + +<p>“I will not be pushed like this,” he snarled. “What right is it of yours +to come between me and my work?”</p> + +<p>Sir James made a quick imperious gesture, and his air of entreaty fell +from him like a cloak.</p> + +<p>“Sit down, sir,” he said, and his voice rang strongly. “We have a right +in Margaret’s affairs. We will say what we wish.”</p> + +<p>Mary glanced at him: she had never seen her father like this before as +he stood in three quarter profile, rigid with decision. When she looked +at Ralph again, his face had tightened once more into obstinacy. He +answered Sir James with a kind of silky deference.</p> + +<p>“Of course, I will sit down, sir, and you shall say what you will.”</p> + +<p>He went across the room and drew out a couple of chairs before the cold +hearth where the white ashes and logs of last night’s fire still rested. +Sir James sat down with his back to the window so that Mary could not +see his face, and Ralph stood by the other chair a moment, facing her.</p> + +<p>“Sit down, Mary,” he said. “Wait, I will have candles.”</p> + +<p>He stepped back to the door and called to the portress, and then +returned, and seated himself deliberately, setting his cane in the +corner beside him.</p> + +<p>None of the three spoke again until the nun had come in with a couple of +candles that she set in the stands and lighted; then she went out +without glancing at anyone. Mary was sitting in the window seat, so the +curtains remained undrawn, and there was a mystical compound of twilight +and candle-light in the room.</p> + +<p>She had a flash of metaphor, and saw in it the meeting of the old and +new religions; the type of these two men, of whom the light of one was +fading, and the other waxing. The candlelight fell full on Ralph’s face +that stood out against the whitewashed wall behind.</p> + +<p>Then she listened and watched with an intent interest.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>“It is this,” said Sir James, “we heard you were here—”</p> + +<p>Ralph smiled with one side of his mouth, so that his father could see +it.</p> + +<p>“I do not wish to do anything I should not,” went on the old man, “or to +meddle in his Grace’s matters—”</p> + +<p>“And you wish me not to meddle either, sir,” put in Ralph.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said his father. “I am very willing to receive you and your wife +at home; to make any suitable provision; to give you half the house if +you wish for it; if you will only give up this accursed work.”</p> + +<p>He was speaking with a tranquil deliberation; all the emotion and +passion seemed to have left his voice; but Mary, from behind, could see +his right hand clenched like a vice upon the knob of his chair-arm. It +seemed to her as if the two men had suddenly frozen into +self-repression. Their air was one of two acquaintances talking, not of +father and son.</p> + +<p>“And if not, sir?” asked Ralph with the same courtesy.</p> + +<p>“Wait,” said his father, and he lifted his hand a moment and dropped it +again. He was speaking in short, sharp sentences. “I know that you have +great things before you, and that I am asking much from you. I do not +wish you to think that I am ignorant of that. If nothing else will do I +am willing to give up the house altogether to you and your wife. I do +not know about your mother.”</p> + +<p>Mary drew her breath hard. The words were like an explosion in her soul, +and opened up unsuspected gulfs. Things must be desperate if her father +could speak like that. He had not hinted a word of this during that +silent strenuous ride they had had together when he had called for her +suddenly at Great Keynes earlier in the afternoon. She saw Ralph give a +quick stare at his father, and drop his eyes again.</p> + +<p>“You are very generous, sir,” he said almost immediately, “but I do not +ask for a bribe.”</p> + +<p>“You—you are unlike your master in that, then,” said Sir James by an +irresistible impulse.</p> + +<p>Ralph’s face stiffened yet more.</p> + +<p>“Then that is all, sir?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon for saying that,” added his father courteously. “It +should not have been said. It is not a bribe, however; it is an offer to +compensate for any loss you may incur.”</p> + +<p>“Have you finished, sir?”</p> + +<p>“That is all I have to say on that point,” said Sir James, “except—”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Except that I do not know how Mistress Atherton will take this story.”</p> + +<p>Ralph’s face grew a shade paler yet. But his lips snapped together, +though his eyes flinched.</p> + +<p>“That is a threat, sir.”</p> + +<p>“That is as you please.”</p> + +<p>A little pulse beat sharply in Ralph’s cheek. He was looking with a +kind of steady fury at his father. But Mary thought she saw indecision +too in his eye-lids, which were quivering almost imperceptibly.</p> + +<p>“You have offered me a bribe and a threat, sir. Two insults. Have you a +third ready?”</p> + +<p>Mary heard a swift-drawn breath from her father, but he spoke quietly.</p> + +<p>“I have no more to say on that point,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Then I must refuse,” said Ralph instantly. “I see no reason to give up +my work. I have very hearty sympathy with it.”</p> + +<p>The old man’s hand twitched uncontrollably on his chair-arm for a +moment; he half lifted his hand, but he dropped it again.</p> + +<p>“Then as to Margaret,” he went on in a moment. “I understand you had +intended to dismiss her from the convent?”</p> + +<p>Ralph bowed.</p> + +<p>“And where do you suggest that she should go?”</p> + +<p>“She must go home,” said Ralph.</p> + +<p>“To Overfield?”</p> + +<p>Ralph assented.</p> + +<p>“Then I will not receive her,” said Sir James.</p> + +<p>Mary started up.</p> + +<p>“Nor will Mary receive her,” he added, half turning towards her.</p> + +<p>Mary Maxwell sat back at once. She thought she understood what he meant +now.</p> + +<p>Ralph stared at his father a moment before he too understood. Then he +saw the point, and riposted deftly. He shrugged his shoulders +ostentatiously as if to shake off responsibility.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, that is not my business; I shall give her a gown and five +shillings to-morrow, with the other one.”</p> + +<p>The extraordinary brutality of the words struck Mary like a whip, but +Sir James met it.</p> + +<p>“That is for you to settle then,” he said. “Only you need not send her +to Overfield or Great Keynes, for she will be sent back here at once.”</p> + +<p>Ralph smiled with an air of tolerant incredulity. Sir James rose +briskly.</p> + +<p>“Come, Mary,” he said, and turned his back abruptly on Ralph, “we must +find lodgings for to-night. The good nuns will not have room.”</p> + +<p>As Mary looked at his face in the candlelight she was astonished by its +decision; there was not the smallest hint of yielding. It was very pale +but absolutely determined, and for the last time in her life she noticed +how like it was to Ralph’s. The line of the lips was identical, and his +eyelids drooped now like his son’s.</p> + +<p>Ralph too rose and then on a sudden she saw the resolute obstinacy fade +from his eyes and mouth. It was as if the spirit of one man had passed +into the other.</p> + +<p>“Father—” he said.</p> + +<p>She expected a rush of emotion into the old man’s face, but there was +not a ripple. He paused a moment, but Ralph was silent.</p> + +<p>“I have no more to say to you, sir. And I beg that you will not come +home again.”</p> + +<p>As they passed out into the entrance passage she turned again and saw +Ralph dazed and trembling at the table. Then they were out in the road +through the open gate and a long moan broke from her father.</p> + +<p>“Oh! God forgive me,” he said, “have I failed?”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_2VI">CHAPTER VI<br><span class="small">A NUN’S DEFIANCE</span></h4></div> + + +<p>It was a very strange evening that Mary and her father passed in the +little upstairs room looking on to the street at Rusper.</p> + +<p>Sir James had hardly spoken, and after supper had sat near the window, +with a curious alertness in his face. Mary knew that Chris was expected, +and that Mr. Morris had ridden on to fetch him after he had called at +Overfield, but from her short interview with Margaret she had seen that +his presence would not be required. The young nun, though bewildered and +stunned by the news that she must go, had not wavered for a moment as +regards her intention to follow out her Religious vocation in some +manner; and it was to confirm her in it, in case she hesitated, that Sir +James had sent on the servant to fetch Chris.</p> + +<p>It was all like a dreadful dream to Mary.</p> + +<p>She had gone out from dinner at her own house into the pleasant October +sunshine with her cheerful husband beside her, when her father had come +out through the house with his riding-whip in his hand; and in a few +seconds she had found herself plunged into new and passionate relations, +first with him, for she had never seen him so stirred, and then with her +brothers and sister. Ralph, that dignified man of affairs, suddenly +stepped into her mind as a formidable enemy of God and man; Chris +appeared as a spiritual power, and the quiet Margaret as the very centre +of the sudden storm.</p> + +<p>She sat here now by the fire, shading her face with her hand and +watching that familiar face set in hard and undreamed lines of passion +and resolution and expectancy.</p> + +<p>Once as footsteps came up the street he had started up and sat down +trembling.</p> + +<p>She waited till the steps went past, and then spoke.</p> + +<p>“Chris will be riding, father.”</p> + +<p>He nodded abruptly, and she saw by his manner that it was not Chris he +was expecting. She understood then that he still had hopes of his other +son, but they sat on into the night in the deep stillness, till the fire +burned low and red, and the stars she had seen at the horizon wheeled up +and out of sight above the window-frame.</p> + +<p>Then he suddenly turned to her.</p> + +<p>“You must go to bed, Mary,” he said. “I will wait for Chris.”</p> + +<p>She lay long awake in the tiny cupboard-room that the labourer and his +wife had given up to her, hearing the horses stamp in the cold shed at +the back of the house, and the faces moved and turned like the colours +of a kaleidoscope. Now her father’s eyes and mouth hung like a mask +before her, with that terrible look that had been on them as he faced +Ralph at the end; now Ralph’s own face, defiant, icy, melting in turns; +now Margaret’s with wide terrified eyes, as she had seen it in the +parlour that afternoon; now her own husband’s. And the sweet autumn +woods and meadows lay before her as she had seen them during that silent +ride; the convent, the village, her own home with its square windows and +yew hedge—a hundred images.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There was a talking when she awoke for the last time and through the +crazy door glimmered a crack of grey dawn, and as she listened she knew +that Chris was come.</p> + +<p>It was a strange meeting when she came out a few minutes later. There +was the monk, unshaven and pale under the eyes, with his thinned face +that gave no smile as she came in; her father desperately white and +resolved; Mr. Morris, spruce and grave as usual sitting with his hat +between his knees behind the others;—he rose deferentially as she came +in and remained standing.</p> + +<p>Her father began abruptly as she appeared.</p> + +<p>“He can do nothing,” he said, “he can but turn her on to the road. And I +do not think he will dare.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! Beatrice Atherton?” questioned Mary, who had a clearer view of the +situation now.</p> + +<p>“Yes—Beatrice Atherton. He fears that we shall tell her. He cannot send +Margaret to Overfield or Great Keynes now.”</p> + +<p>“And if he turns her out after all?”</p> + +<p>Sir James looked at her keenly.</p> + +<p>“We must leave the rest to God,” he said.</p> + +<p>The village was well awake by the time that they had finished their talk +and had had something to eat. The drama at the convent had leaked out +through the boy who served the altar there, and a little group was +assembled opposite the windows of the cottage to which the monk had been +seen to ride up an hour or two before. It seemed strange that no priest +had been near them, but it was fairly evident that the terror was too +great.</p> + +<p>As the four came out on to the road, a clerical cap peeped for a moment +from the churchyard wall and disappeared again.</p> + +<p>They went down towards the convent along the grey road, in the pale +autumn morning air. Mary still seemed to herself to walk in a dream, +with her father and brother on either side masquerading in strange +character; the familiar atmosphere had been swept from them, the +background of association was gone, and they moved now in a new scene +with new parts to play that were bringing out powers which she had never +suspected in them. It seemed as if their essential souls had been laid +bare by a catastrophe, and that she had never known them before.</p> + +<p>For herself, she felt helpless and dazed; her own independence seemed +gone, and she was aware that her soul was leaning on those of the two +who walked beside her, and who were masculine and capable beyond all her +previous knowledge of them.</p> + +<p>Behind she heard a murmur of voices and footsteps of three or four +villagers who followed to see what would happen.</p> + +<p>She had no idea of what her father meant to do; it was incredible that +he should leave Margaret in the road with her gown and five shillings; +but it was yet more incredible that all his threats should be idle. Only +one thing emerged clearly, that he had thrown a heavier responsibility +upon Ralph than the latter had foreseen. Perhaps the rest must indeed be +left to God. She did not even know what he meant to do now, whether to +make one last effort with Ralph, or to leave him to himself; and she had +not dared to ask.</p> + +<p>They passed straight down together in silence to the convent-gate; and +were admitted immediately by the portress whose face was convulsed and +swollen.</p> + +<p>“They are to go,” she sobbed.</p> + +<p>Sir James made a gesture, and passed in to the tiny lodge on the left +where the portress usually sat; Chris and Mary followed him in, and Mr. +Morris went across to the guest-house.</p> + +<p>The bell sounded out overhead for mass as they sat there in the dim +morning light, twenty or thirty strokes, and ceased; but there was no +movement from the little door of the guest-house across the court. The +portress had disappeared through the second door that led from the tiny +room in which they sat, into the precincts of the convent itself.</p> + +<p>Mary looked distractedly round her; at the little hatch that gave on to +the entrance gate, and the chain hanging by it that communicated with +one of the bolts, at the little crucifix that hung beside it, the +devotional book that lay on the shelf, the door into the convent with +the title “<i>Clausura</i>” inscribed above it. She glanced at her father and +brother.</p> + +<p>Sir James was sitting with his grey head in his hands, motionless and +soundless; Chris was standing upright and rigid, staring steadily out +through the window into the court.</p> + +<p>Then through the window she too saw Mr. Morris come out from the +guest-house and pass along to the stable.</p> + +<p>Again there was silence.</p> + +<p>The minutes went by, and the Saunce bell sounded three strokes from the +turret. Chris sank on to his knees, and a moment later Mary and her +father followed his example, and so the three remained in the dark +silent lodge, with no sound but their breathing, and once a sharp +whispered word of prayer from the old man.</p> + +<p>As the sacring bell sounded there was a sudden noise in the court, and +Mary lifted her head.</p> + +<p>From where she knelt she could see the two doors across the court, those +of the guest-house and the stable beyond, and simultaneously, out of the +one came Ralph, gloved and booted, with his cap on his head, and Mr. +Morris leading his horse out of the other.</p> + +<p>The servant lifted his cap at the sound of the bell, and dropped on to +his knees, still holding the bridle; his master stood as he was, and +looked at him. Mary could only see the latter’s profile, but even that +was scornful and hard.</p> + +<p>Again the bell sounded; the mystery was done; and the servant stood up.</p> + +<p>As her father and Chris rose, Mary rose with them; and the three +remained in complete silence, watching the little scene in the court.</p> + +<p>Ralph made a sign; and the servant attached the bridle of the horse to a +ring beside the stable-door, and went past his master into the +guest-house with a deferential stoop of the shoulders. Ralph stood a +moment longer, and then followed him in.</p> + +<p>Then again the minutes went by.</p> + +<p>There was a sound of horse-hoofs on the road presently, and of talking +that grew louder. The hoofs ceased; there was a sharp peal on the bell; +and the talking began again.</p> + +<p>Chris glanced across at his father; but the old man shook his head; and +the three remained as they were, watching and listening. As the bell +rang out again impatiently, the door behind opened, and the portress +came swiftly through, followed by the Abbess.</p> + +<p>“Come quickly,” the old lady whispered. “Sister Susan is going to let +them in.”</p> + +<p>She stood aside, and made a motion to them to come through, and a moment +late the four were in the convent, and the door was shut behind them.</p> + +<p>“They are Mr. Torridon’s men,” whispered the Abbess, her eyes round with +excitement; “they are come to pack the things.”</p> + +<p>She led them on through the narrow passage, up a stone flight of stairs +to the corridor that ran over the little cloister, and pushed open the +door of a cell.</p> + +<p>“Wait here,” she said. “You can do no more. I will go down to them. You +are in the enclosure, but I cannot help it.”</p> + +<p>And she had whisked out again, with an air of extraordinary composure, +shutting the door behind her.</p> + +<p>The three went across to the window, still speaking no word, and looked +down.</p> + +<p>The tiny court seemed half full of people now. There were three horses +there, besides Ralph’s own marked by its rich saddle, and still attached +to the ring by the stable door, and a couple of men were busy loading +one of them with bundles. From one of these, which was badly packed, a +shimmering corner of gold cloth projected.</p> + +<p>Ralph was standing by the door of the guest-house watching, and making a +sign now and again with his whip. They could not see his face as he +stood so directly below them, only his rich cap and feather, and his +strong figure beneath. Mr. Morris was waiting now by his master’s horse; +the portress was by her door.</p> + +<p>As they looked the little black and white figure of the Abbess came out +beneath them, and stood by the portress.</p> + +<p>The packing went on in silence. It was terrible to Mary to stand there +and watch the dumb-show tragedy, the wrecking and robbing of this +peaceful house; and yet there was nothing to be done. She knew that the +issues were in stronger hands than hers; she glanced piteously at her +father and brother on either side, but their faces were set and white, +and they did not turn at her movement.</p> + +<p>There was the sound of an opening door, and two women came out from the +convent at one side and stood waiting. One was in secular dress; the +other was still in her habit, but carried a long dark mantle across her +arm, and Mary caught her breath and bit her lip fiercely as she +recognised the second to be her sister.</p> + +<p>She felt she must cry out, and denounce the sacrilege, and made an +instinctive movement nearer the window, but in a moment her father’s +hand was on her arm.</p> + +<p>“Be still, Mary: it is all well.”</p> + +<p>One of the horses was being led away by now through the open door; and +the two others followed almost immediately; but the principal actors +were still in their places; the Abbess and the portress together on this +side; Ralph on that; and the two other women, a little apart from one +another, at the further end of the court.</p> + +<p>Then Ralph beckoned abruptly with his whip, and Mary saw her sister move +out towards the gate; she caught a glance of her face, and saw that her +lips were white and trembling, and her eyes full of agony. The other +woman followed briskly, and the two disappeared through to the road +outside.</p> + +<p>Again Ralph beckoned, and Mr. Morris brought up the horse that he had +now detached from the ring, and stood by its head, holding the +off-stirrup for his master to mount. Ralph gathered the reins into his +left hand, and for a moment they saw his face across the back of the +horse fierce and white; then he was up, and settling his right foot into +the stirrup.</p> + +<p>Mr. Morris let go, and stood back; and simultaneously Ralph struck him +with his riding-whip across the face, a furious back-handed slash.</p> + +<p>Mary cried out uncontrollably and shrank back; and a moment later her +father was leaning from the window, and she beside him.</p> + +<p>“You damned coward!” he shouted. “Morris, you are my servant now.”</p> + +<p>Ralph did not turn his head an inch, and a moment later disappeared on +horse-back through the gate, and the portress had closed it behind him.</p> + +<p>The little court was silent now, and empty except for the Abbess’ +motionless figure behind, with Mr. Morris beside her, and the lay sister +by the gate, her hand still on the key that she had turned, and her eyes +intent and expectant fixed on her superior. Mr. Morris lifted a +handkerchief now and again gently to his face, and Mary as she leaned +half sobbing from above saw that there were spots of crimson on the +white.</p> + +<p>“Oh! Morris!” she whispered.</p> + +<p>The servant looked up, with a great weal across one cheek, and bowed a +little, but he could not speak yet. Outside they could hear the jingle +of bridle-chains; and then a voice begin; but they could not distinguish +the words.</p> + +<p>It was Ralph speaking; but they could only guess what it was that he was +saying. Overhead the autumn sky was a vault of pale blue; and a bird or +two chirped briskly from the roof opposite.</p> + +<p>The voice outside grew louder, and ceased, and the noise of horse hoofs +broke out.</p> + +<p>Still there was no movement from any within. The Abbess was standing now +with one hand uplifted as if for silence, and Mary heard the hoofs sound +fainter up the road; they grew louder again as they reached higher +ground; and then ceased altogether.</p> + +<p>The old man touched Mary on the arm, and the three went out along the +little corridor, and down the stone stairs.</p> + +<p>As they passed through the lodge and came into the court Mary saw that +the Abbess had moved from her place, and was standing with the portress +close by the gate; her face was towards them, a little on one side, and +she seemed to be listening intently, her ear against the door, her lower +lip sucked in, and her eyes bright and vacant; she still held one hand +up for silence.</p> + +<p>Then there came a tiny tapping on the wood-work, and she instantly +turned and snatched at the key, and a moment later the door was wide.</p> + +<p>“Come in, my poor child,” she said.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_2VII">CHAPTER VII<br><span class="small">ST PANCRAS PRIORY</span></h4></div> + + +<p>It was a little more than a month later that Ralph met his +fellow-Visitor at Lewes Priory.</p> + +<p>He had left Rusper in a storm of angry obstinacy, compelled by sheer +pride to do what he had not intended. The arrival of his father and Mary +there had had exactly the opposite effect to that which they hoped, and +Ralph had turned Margaret out of the convent simply because he could not +bear that they should think that he could be frightened from his +purpose.</p> + +<p>As he had ridden off on that October morning, leaving Margaret standing +outside with her cloak over her arm he had had a very sharp suspicion +that she would be received back again; but he had not felt himself +strong enough to take any further steps; so he contented himself with +sending in his report to Dr. Layton, knowing well that heavy punishment +would fall on the convent if it was discovered that the Abbess had +disobeyed the Visitors’ injunctions.</p> + +<p>Then for a month or so he had ridden about the county, carrying off +spoils, appointing new officials, and doing the other duties assigned to +him; he was offered bribes again and again by superiors of Religious +Houses, but unlike his fellow-Visitors always refused them, and fell the +more hardly on those that offered them; he turned out numbers of young +Religious and released elder ones who desired it, and by the time that +he reached Lewes was fairly practised in the duties of his position.</p> + +<p>But the thought of the consequences of his action with regard to his +future seldom left him. He had alienated his family, and perhaps +Beatrice. As he rode once through Cuckfield, and caught a glimpse of the +woods above Overfield, glorious in their autumn livery, he wondered +whether he would ever find himself at home there again. It was a good +deal to give up; but he comforted himself with the thought of his own +career, and with the pleasant prospect of possessing some such house in +his own right when the work that he now understood had been +accomplished, and the monastic buildings were empty of occupants.</p> + +<p>He had received one letter, to his surprise, from his mother; that was +brought to him by a messenger in one of the houses where he stayed. It +informed him that he had the writer’s approval, and that she was +thankful to have one son at least who was a man, and described further +how his father and Mary had come back, and without Margaret, and that +she supposed that the Abbess of Rusper had taken her back.</p> + +<p>“Go on, my son,” she ended, “it will be all well. You cannot come home, +I know, while your father is in his present mind; but it is a dull place +and you lose nothing. When you are married it will be different. Mr. +Carleton is very tiresome, but it does not matter.”</p> + +<p>Ralph smiled to himself as he thought of the life that must now be +proceeding at his home.</p> + +<p>He had written once to Beatrice, in a rather tentative tone, assuring +her that he was doing his best to be just and merciful, and professing +to take it for granted that she knew how to discount any exaggerated +stories of the Visitors’ doings that might come to her ears. But he had +received no answer, and indeed had told her that he did not expect one, +for he was continually on the move and could give no fixed address.</p> + +<p>As he came up over the downs above Lewes he was conscious of a keen +excitement; this would be the biggest work he had undertaken, and it had +the additional zest of being a means of annoying his brother who had +provoked him so often. Since his quarrel with Chris in his own rooms in +the summer he had retained an angry contempt towards him. Chris had been +insolent and theatrical, he told himself, and had thrown off all claims +to tenderness, and Ralph’s feelings towards him were not improved by the +information given him by one of his men that his brother had been +present at the scene at Rusper, no doubt summoned there by Morris, who +had proved such a desperate traitor to his master by slipping off to +Overfield on the morning of the Sunday.</p> + +<p>Ralph was very much puzzled at first by Morris’s behaviour; the man had +always been respectful and obedient, but it was now evident to him that +he had been half-hearted all along, and still retained a superstitious +reverence for ecclesiastical things and persons; and although it was +very inconvenient and tiresome to lose him, yet it was better to be +inadequately than treacherously served.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Lewes Priory was a magnificent sight as Ralph came up on to the top of +the last shoulder below Mount Harry. The town lay below him in the deep, +cup-like hollow, piled house above house along the sides. Beyond it in +the evening light, against the rich autumn fields and the gleam of +water, towered up the tall church with the monastic buildings nestling +behind.</p> + +<p>The thought crossed his mind that it would do very well for himself; +the town was conveniently placed between London and the sea, within a +day’s ride from either; there would be shops and company there, and the +priory itself would be a dignified and suitable house, when it had been +properly re-arranged. The only drawback would be Beatrice’s +scrupulousness; but he had little doubt that ultimately that could be +overcome. It would be ridiculous for a single girl to set herself up +against the conviction of a country, and refuse to avail herself of the +advantages of a reform that was so sorely needed. She trusted him +already; and it would not need much persuasion he thought to convince +her mind as well as her heart.</p> + +<p>Of course Lewes Priory would be a great prize, and there would be many +applicants for it, and he realized that more than ever as he came up to +its splendid gateway and saw the high tower overhead, and the long tiled +roofs to the right; but his own relations with Cromwell were of the +best, and he decided that at least no harm could result from asking.</p> + +<p>It was with considerable excitement that he dismounted in the court, and +saw the throng of Dr. Layton’s men going to and fro. As at Durford, so +here, his superior had arrived before him, and the place was already +astir. The riding-horses had been bestowed in the stables, and the +baggage-beasts were being now unloaded before the door of the +guest-house; there were servants going to and fro in Dr. Layton’s +livery, with an anxious-faced monk or two here and there among them, and +a buzz and clatter rose on all sides. One of Dr. Layton’s secretaries +who had been at Durford, recognised Ralph and came up immediately, +saluting him deferentially.</p> + +<p>“The doctor is with the Sub-Prior, sir,” he said. “He gave orders that +you were to be brought to him as soon as you arrived, Mr. Torridon.”</p> + +<p>Ralph followed him into the guest-house, and up the stairs up which +Chris had come at his first arrival, and was shown into the parlour. +There was a sound of voices as they approached the door, and as Ralph +entered he saw at once that Dr. Layton was busy at his work.</p> + +<p>“Come in, sir,” he cried cheerfully from behind the table at which he +sat. “Here is desperate work for you and me. No less than rank treason, +Mr. Torridon.”</p> + +<p>A monk was standing before the table, who turned nervously as Ralph came +in; he was a middle-aged man, grey-haired and brown-faced like a +foreigner, but his eyes were full of terror now, and his lips trembling +piteously.</p> + +<p>Ralph greeted Dr. Layton shortly, and sat down beside him.</p> + +<p>“Now, sir,” went on the other, “your only hope is to submit yourself to +the King’s clemency. You have confessed yourself to treason in your +preaching, and even if you did not, it would not signify, for I have the +accusation from the young man at Farley in my bag. You tell me you did +not know it was treason; but are you ready, sir, to tell the King’s +Grace that?”</p> + +<p>The monk’s eyes glanced from one to the other anxiously. Ralph could see +that he was desperately afraid.</p> + +<p>“Tell me that, sir,” cried the doctor again, rapping the table with his +open hand.</p> + +<p>“I—I—what shall I do, sir?” stammered the monk.</p> + +<p>“You must throw yourself on the King’s mercy, reverend father. And as a +beginning you must throw yourself on mine and Mr. Torridon’s here. Now, +listen to this.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Layton lifted one of the papers that lay before him and read it +aloud, looking severely at the monk over the top of it between the +sentences. It was in the form of a confession, and declared that on such +a date in the Priory Church of St Pancras at Lewes the undersigned had +preached treason, although ignorant that it was so, in the presence of +the Prior and community; and that the Prior, although he knew what was +to be said, and had heard the sermon in question, had neither forbidden +it beforehand nor denounced it afterwards, and that the undersigned +entreated the King’s clemency for the fault and submitted himself +entirely to his Grace’s judgment.</p> + +<p>“I—I dare not accuse my superior,” stammered the monk.</p> + +<p>Dr. Layton glared at him, laying the paper down.</p> + +<p>“The question is,” he cried, “which would you sooner offend—your Prior, +who will be prior no longer presently, or the King’s Grace, who will +remain the King’s Grace for many years yet, by the favour of God, and +who has moreover supreme rights of life and death. That is your choice, +reverend father.”—He lifted the paper by the corners.—“You have only +to say the word, sir, and I tear up this paper, and write my own report +of the matter.”</p> + +<p>The monk again glanced helplessly at the two men. Ralph had a touch of +contentment at the thought that this was Christopher’s superior, ranged +like a naughty boy at the table, and looked at him coldly. Dr. Layton +made a swift gesture as if to tear the paper, and the Sub-Prior threw +out his hands.</p> + +<p>“I will sign it, sir,” he said, “I will sign it.”</p> + +<p>When the monk had left the room, leaving his signed confession behind +him, Dr. Layton turned beaming to Ralph.</p> + +<p>“Thank God!” he said piously. “I do not know what we should have done if +he had refused; but now we hold him and his prior too. How have you +fared, Mr. Torridon?”</p> + +<p>Ralph told him a little of his experiences since his last report, of a +nunnery where all but three had been either dismissed or released; of a +monastery where he had actually caught a drunken cellarer unconscious by +a barrel, and of another where he had reason to fear even worse crimes.</p> + +<p>“Write it all down, Mr. Torridon,” cried the priest, “and do not spare +the adjectives. I have some fine tales for you myself. But we must +despatch this place first. We shall have grand sport in the +chapter-house to-morrow. This prior is a poor timid fellow, and we can +do what we will with him. Concealed treason is a sharp sword to threaten +him with.”</p> + +<p>Ralph remarked presently that he had a brother a monk here.</p> + +<p>“But you can do what you like to him,” he said. “I have no love for him. +He is an insolent fellow.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Layton smiled pleasantly.</p> + +<p>“We will see what can be done,” he said.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Ralph slept that night in the guest-house, in the same room that Chris +had occupied on his first coming. He awoke once at the sound of the +great bell from the tower calling the monks to the night-office, and +smiled at the fantastic folly of it all. His work during the last month +had erased the last remnants of superstitious fear, and to him now more +than ever the Religious Houses were but noisy rookeries, clamant with +bells and chanting, and foul with the refuse of idleness. The sooner +they were silenced and purged the better.</p> + +<p>He did not trouble to go to mass in the morning, but lay awake in the +white-washed room, hearing footsteps and voices below, and watching the +morning light brighten on the wall. He found himself wondering once or +twice what Chris was doing, and how he felt; he did not rise till one of +his men looked in to tell him that Dr. Layton would be ready for him in +half-an-hour, if he pleased.</p> + +<p>The chapter-house was a strange sight as he entered it from the +cloister. It was a high oblong chamber some fifty feet long, with arched +roof like a chapel, and a paved floor. On a dozen stones or so were cut +inscriptions recording the presence of bodies entombed below, among them +those of Earl William de Warenne and Gundrada, his wife, founders of the +priory five centuries ago. Ralph caught sight of the names as he strode +through the silent monks at the door and entered the chamber, talking +loudly with his fellow-Visitor. The tall vaulted room looked bare and +severe; the seats ran round it, raised on a step, and before the Prior’s +chair beneath the crucifix stood a large table covered with papers. +Beneath it, and emerging on to the floor lay a great heap of vestments +and precious things which Dr. Layton had ordered to be piled there for +his inspection, and on the table itself for greater dignity burned two +tapers in massive silver candlesticks.</p> + +<p>“Sit here, Mr. Torridon,” said the priest, himself taking the Prior’s +chair, “we represent the supreme head of the Church of England now, you +must remember.”</p> + +<p>And he smiled at the other with a solemn joy.</p> + +<p>He glanced over his papers, settled himself judicially, and then signed +to one of his men to call the monks in. His two secretaries seated +themselves at either end of the table that stood before their master.</p> + +<p>Then the two lines began to file in, in reverse order, as the doctor had +commanded; black silent figures with bowed heads buried in their hoods, +and their hands invisible in the great sleeves of their cowls.</p> + +<p>Ralph ran his eyes over them; there were men of all ages there, old +wrinkled faces, and smooth ones; but it was not until they were all +standing in their places that he recognised Chris.</p> + +<p>There stood the young man, at a stall near the door, his eyes bent down, +and his face deadly pale, his figure thin and rigid against the pale oak +panelling that rose up some eight feet from the floor. Ralph’s heart +quickened with triumph. Ah! it was good to be here as judge, with that +brother of his as culprit!</p> + +<p>The Prior and Sub-prior, whose places were occupied, stood together in +the centre of the room, as the doctor had ordered. It was their case +that was to come first.</p> + +<p>There was an impressive silence; the two Visitors sat motionless, +looking severely round them; the secretaries had their clean paper +before them, and their pens, ready dipped, poised in their fingers.</p> + +<p>Then Dr. Layton began.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was an inexpressibly painful task, he said, that he had before him; +the monks were not to think that he gloried in it, or loved to find +fault and impose punishments; and, in fact, nothing but the knowledge +that he was there as the representative of the supreme authority in +Church and State could have supplied to him the fortitude necessary for +the performance of so sad a task.</p> + +<p>Ralph marvelled at him as he listened. There was a solemn sound in the +man’s face and voice, and dignity in his few and impressive gestures. It +could hardly be believed that he was not in earnest; and yet Ralph +remembered too the relish with which the man had dispersed his foul +tales the evening before, and the cackling laughter with which their +recital was accompanied. But it was all very wholesome for Chris, he +thought.</p> + +<p>“And now,” said Dr. Layton, “I must lay before you this grievous matter. +It is one of whose end I dare not think, if it should come before the +King’s Grace; and yet so it must come. It is no less a matter than +treason.”</p> + +<p>His voice rang out with a melancholy triumph, and Ralph, looking at the +two monks who stood in the centre of the room, saw that they were both +as white as paper. The lips of the Prior were moving in a kind of +agonised entreaty, and his eyes rolled round.</p> + +<p>“You, sir,” cried the doctor, glaring at the Sub-Prior, who dropped his +beseeching eyes at the fierce look, “you, sir, have committed the +crime—in ignorance, you tell me—but at least the crime of preaching in +this priory-church in the presence of his Grace’s faithful subjects a +sermon attacking the King’s most certain prerogatives. I can make +perhaps allowances for this—though I do not know whether his Grace will +do so—but I can make allowances for one so foolish as yourself carried +away by the drunkenness of words; but I can make none—none—” he +shouted, crashing his hand upon the table, “none for your superior who +stands beside you, and who forebore either to protest at the treason at +the time or to rebuke it afterwards.”</p> + +<p>The Prior’s hands rose and clasped themselves convulsively, but he made +no answer.</p> + +<p>Dr. Layton proceeded to read out the confession that he had wrung from +the monk the night before, down to the signature; then he called upon +him to come up.</p> + +<p>“Is this your name, sir?” he asked slowly.</p> + +<p>The Sub-Prior took the paper in his trembling hands.</p> + +<p>“It is sir,” he said.</p> + +<p>“You hear it,” cried the doctor, staring fiercely round the faces, “he +tells you he has subscribed it himself. Go back to your place, reverend +father, and thank our Lord that you had courage to do so.</p> + +<p>“And now, you, sir, Master Prior, what have you to say?”</p> + +<p>Dr. Layton dropped his voice as he spoke, and laid his fat hands +together on the table. The Prior looked up with the same dreadful +entreaty as before; his lips moved, but no sound came from them. The +monks round were deadly still; Ralph saw a swift glance or two exchanged +beneath the shrouding hoods, but no one moved.</p> + +<p>“I am waiting, my Lord Prior,” cried Layton in a loud terrible voice.</p> + +<p>Again the Prior writhed his lips to speak.</p> + +<p>Dr. Layton rose abruptly and made a violent gesture.</p> + +<p>“Down on your knees, Master Prior, if you need mercy.”</p> + +<p>There was a quick murmur and ripple along the two lines as the Prior +dropped suddenly on to his knees and covered his face with his hands.</p> + +<p>Dr. Layton threw out his hand with a passionate gesture and began to +speak—.</p> + +<p>“There, reverend fathers and brethren,” he cried, “you see how low sin +brings a man. This fellow who calls himself prior was bold enough, I +daresay, in the church when treason was preached; and, I doubt not, has +been bold enough in private too when he thought none heard him but his +friends. But you see how treachery,—heinous treachery,—plucks the +spirit from him, and how lowly he carries himself when he knows that +true men are sitting in judgment over him. Take example from that, you +who have served him in the past; you need never fear him more now.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Layton dropped his hand and sat down. For one moment Ralph saw the +kneeling man lift that white face again, but the doctor was at him +instantly.</p> + +<p>“Do not dare to rise, sir, till I give you leave,” he roared. “You had +best be a penitent. Now tell me, sir, what you have to say. It shall not +be said that we condemned a man unheard. Eh! Mr. Torridon?”</p> + +<p>Ralph nodded sharply, and glanced at Chris; but his brother was staring +at the Prior.</p> + +<p>“Now then, sir,” cried the doctor again.</p> + +<p>“I entreat you, Master Layton—”</p> + +<p>The Prior’s voice was convulsed with terror as he cried this with +outstretched hands.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, I will hear you.”</p> + +<p>“I entreat you, sir, not to tell his Grace. Indeed I am innocent,”—his +voice rose thin and high in his panic—“indeed, I did not know it was +treason that was preached.”</p> + +<p>“Did not know?” sneered the doctor, leaning forward over the table. +“Why, you know your Faith, man—”</p> + +<p>“Master Layton, Master Layton; there be so many changes in these days—”</p> + +<p>“Changes!” shouted the priest; “there be no changes, except of such +knaves as you, Master-Prior; it is the old Faith now as ever. Do you +dare to call his Grace a heretic? Must that too go down in the charges?”</p> + +<p>“No, no, Master Layton,” screamed the Prior, with his hands strained +forward and twitching fingers. “I did not mean that—Christ is my +witness!”</p> + +<p>“Is it not the same Faith, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Master Layton—yes—indeed, it is. But I did not know—how could I +know?”</p> + +<p>“Then why are you Prior,” cried the doctor with a dramatic gesture, “if +it is not to keep your subjects true and obedient? Do you mean to tell +me—?”</p> + +<p>“I entreat you, sir, for the love of Mary, not to tell his Grace—”</p> + +<p>“Bah!” shouted Dr. Layton, “you may keep your breath till you tell his +Grace that himself. There is enough of this.” Again he rose, and swept +his eyes round the white-faced monks. “I am weary of this work. The +fellow has not a word to say—”</p> + +<p>“Master Layton, Master Layton,” cried the kneeling man once more, +lifting his hands on one of which gleamed the prelatical ring.</p> + +<p>“Silence, sir,” roared the doctor. “It is I who am speaking now. We have +had enough of this work. It seems that there be no true men left, except +in the world; these houses are rotten with crime. Is it not so, Master +Torridon?—rotten with crime! But of all the knaves that I did ever +meet, and they are many and strong ones, I do believe Master Prior, that +you are the worst. Here is my sentence, and see that it be carried out. +You, Master Prior, and you Master Sub-Prior, are to appear before Master +Cromwell in his court on All-Hallows’ Eve, and tell your tales to him. +You shall see if he be so soft as I; it may be that he will send you +before the King’s Grace—that I know not—but at least he will know how +to get the truth out of you, if I cannot—”</p> + +<p>Once more the Prior broke in, in an agony of terror; but the doctor +silenced him in a moment.</p> + +<p>“Have I not given my sentence, sir? How dare you speak?”</p> + +<p>A murmur again ran round the room, and he lifted his hand furiously.</p> + +<p>“Silence,” he shouted, “not one word from a mother’s son of you. I have +had enough of sedition already. Clear the room, officer, and let not one +shaveling monk put his nose within again, until I send for him. I am +weary of them all—weary and broken-hearted.”</p> + +<p>The doctor dropped back into his seat, with a face of profound disgust, +and passed his hand over his forehead.</p> + +<p>The monks turned at the signal from the door, and Ralph watched the +black lines once more file out.</p> + +<p>“There, Mr. Torridon,” whispered the doctor behind his hand. “Did I not +tell you so? Master Cromwell will be able to do what he will with him.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_2VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br><span class="small">RALPH’S RETURN</span></h4></div> + + +<p>The Visitation of Lewes Priory occupied a couple of days, as the estates +were so vast, and the account-books so numerous.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon following the scene in the chapter-house, Dr. Layton +and Ralph rode out to inspect some of the farms that were at hand, +leaving orders that the stock was to be driven up into the court the +next day, and did not return till dusk. The excitement in the town was +tremendous as they rode back through the ill-lighted streets, and as the +rumour ran along who the great gentlemen were that went along so gaily +with their servants behind them; and by the time that they reached the +priory-gate there was a considerable mob following in their train, +singing and shouting, in the highest spirits at the thought of the +plunder that would probably fall into their hands.</p> + +<p>Layton turned in his saddle at the door, and made them a little speech, +telling them how he was there with the authority of the King’s Grace, +and would soon make a sweep of the place.</p> + +<p>“And there will be pickings,” he cried, “pickings for us all! The widow +and the orphan have been robbed long enough; it is time to spoil the +fathers.”</p> + +<p>There was a roar of amusement from the mob; and a shout or two was +raised for the King’s Grace.</p> + +<p>“You must be patient,” cried Dr. Layton, “and then no more taxes. You +can trust us, gentlemen, to do the King’s work as it should be done.”</p> + +<p>As he passed in through the lamp-lit entrance he turned to Ralph again.</p> + +<p>“You see, Mr. Torridon, we have the country behind us.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was that evening that Ralph for the first time since the quarrel met +his brother face to face.</p> + +<p>He was passing through the cloister on his way to Dr. Layton’s room, and +came past the refectory door just as the monks were gathering for +supper. He glanced in as he went, and had a glimpse of the clean solemn +hall, lighted with candles along the panelling, the long bare tables +laid ready, the Prior’s chair and table at the further end and the great +fresco over it. A lay brother or two in aprons were going about their +business silently, and three or four black figures, who had already +entered, stood motionless along the raised dais on which the tables +stood.</p> + +<p>The monks had all stopped instantly as Ralph came among them, and had +lowered their hoods with their accustomed courtly deference to a guest; +and as he turned from his momentary pause at the refectory door in the +full blaze of light that shone from it, he met Chris face to face.</p> + +<p>The young monk had come up that instant, not noticing who was there, and +his hood was still over his head. There was a second’s pause, and then +he lifted his hand and threw the hood back in salutation; and as Ralph +bowed and passed on he had a moment’s sight of that thin face and the +large grey eyes in which there was not the faintest sign of recognition.</p> + +<p>Ralph’s heart was hot with mingled emotion as he went up the cloister. +He was more disturbed by the sudden meeting, the act of courtesy, and +the cold steady eyes of this young fool of a brother than he cared to +recognise.</p> + +<p>He saw no more of him, except in the distance among his fellows; and he +left the house the next day when the business was done.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Matters in the rest of England were going forward with the same +promptitude as in Sussex. Dr. Layton himself had visited the West +earlier in the autumn, and the other Visitors were busy in other parts +of the country. The report was current now that the resources of all the +Religious Houses were to be certainly confiscated, and that those of the +inmates who still persisted in their vocation would have to do so under +the most rigorous conditions imaginable. The results were to be seen in +the enormous increase of beggars, deprived now of the hospitality they +were accustomed to receive; and the roads everywhere were thronged with +those who had been holders of corrodies, or daily sustenance in the +houses; as well as with the evicted Religious, some of whom, dismissed +against their will, were on their way to the universities, where, in +spite of the Visitation, it was thought that support was still to be +had; and others, less reputable, who preferred freedom to monastic +discipline. Yet others were to be met with, though not many in number, +who were on their way to London to lay complaints of various kinds +against their superiors.</p> + +<p>From these and like events the whole country was astir. Men gathered in +groups outside the village inns and discussed the situation, and feeling +ran high on the movements of the day. What chiefly encouraged the +malcontents was the fact that the benefits to be gained by the +dissolution of the monasteries were evident and present, while the +ill-results lay in the future. The great Religious Houses, their farms +and stock, the jewels of the treasury, were visible objects; men +actually laid eyes on them as they went to and from their work or knelt +at mass on Sundays; it was all so much wealth that did not belong to +them, and that might do so, while the corrodies, the daily hospitality, +the employment of labour, and such things, lay either out of sight, or +affected only certain individuals. Characters too that were chiefly +stirred by such arguments, were those of the noisy and self-assertive +faction; while those who saw a little deeper into things, and understood +the enormous charities of the Religious Houses and the manner in which +extreme poverty was kept in check by them,—even more, those who valued +the spiritual benefits that flowed from the fact of their existence, and +saw how life was kindled and inspired by these vast homes of +prayer—such, then as always, were those who would not voluntarily put +themselves forward in debate, or be able, when they did so, to use +arguments that would appeal to the village gatherings. Their natural +leaders too, the country clergy, who alone might have pointed out +effectively the considerations that lay beneath the surface had been +skilfully and peremptorily silenced by the episcopal withdrawing of all +preaching licenses.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>In the course of Ralph’s travels he came across, more than once, a hot +scene in the village inn, and was able to use his own personality and +prestige as a King’s Visitor in the direction that he wished.</p> + +<p>He came for example one Saturday night to the little village of +Maresfield, near Fletching, and after seeing his horses and servants +bestowed, came into the parlour, where the magnates were assembled. +There were half a dozen there, sitting round the fire, who rose +respectfully as the great gentleman strode in, and eyed him with a +sudden awe as they realised from the landlord’s winks and whispers that +he was of a very considerable importance.</p> + +<p>From the nature of his training Ralph had learnt how to deal with all +conditions of men; and by the time that he had finished supper, and +drawn his chair to the fire, they were talking freely again, as indeed +he had encouraged them to do, for they did not of course, any more than +the landlord, guess at his identity or his business there.</p> + +<p>Ralph soon brought the talk round again to the old subject, and asked +the opinions of the company as to the King’s policy in the visitation of +the Religious Houses There was a general silence when he first opened +the debate, for they were dangerous times; but the gentleman’s own +imperturbable air, his evident importance, and his friendliness, +conspired with the strong beer to open their mouths, and in five minutes +they were at it.</p> + +<p>One, a little old man in the corner who sat with crossed legs, nursing +his mug, declared that to his mind the whole thing was sacrilege; the +houses, he said, had been endowed to God’s glory and service, and that +to turn them to other uses must bring a curse on the country. He went on +to remark—for Ralph deftly silenced the chorus of protest—that his own +people had been buried in the church of the Dominican friars at Arundel +for three generations, and that he was sorry for the man who laid hands +on the tomb of his grandfather—known as Uncle John—for the old man had +been a desperate churchman in his day, and would undoubtedly revenge +himself for any indignity offered to his bones.</p> + +<p>Ralph pointed out, with a considerate self-repression, that the +illustration was scarcely to the point, for the King’s Grace had no +intention, he believed, of disturbing any one’s bones; the question at +issue rather regarded flesh and blood. Then a chorus broke out, and the +hunt was up.</p> + +<p>One, the butcher, with many blessings invoked on King Harry’s head, +declared that the country was being sucked dry by these rapacious +ecclesiastics; that the monks encroached every year on the common land, +absorbed the little farms, paid inadequate wages, and—which appeared +his principal grievance—killed their own meat.</p> + +<p>Ralph, with praiseworthy tolerance, pushed this last argument aside, but +appeared to reflect on the others as if they were new to him, though he +had heard them a hundred times, and used them fifty; and while he +weighed them, another took up the tale; told a scandalous story or two, +and asked how men who lived such lives as these which he related, could +be examples of chastity.</p> + +<p>Once more the little old man burst into the fray, and waving his pot in +an access of religious enthusiasm, rebuked the last speaker for his +readiness to pick up dirt, and himself instanced five or six Religious +known to him, whose lives were no less spotless than his own.</p> + +<p>Again Ralph interposed in his slow voice, and told them that that too +was not the point at issue. The question was not as to whether here and +there monks lived good lives or bad, for no one was compelled to imitate +either, but as to whether on the whole the existence of the Religious +Houses was profitable in such practical matters as agriculture, trade, +and the relief of the destitute.</p> + +<p>And so it went on, and Ralph began to grow weary of the inconsequence of +the debaters, and their entire inability to hold to the salient points; +but he still kept his hand on the rudder of the discussion, avoided the +fogs of the supernatural and religious on the one side towards which the +little old man persisted in pushing, and, on the other, the blunt views +of the butcher and the man who had told the foul stories; and contented +himself with watching and learning the opinion of the company rather +than contributing his own.</p> + +<p>Towards the end of the evening he observed two of his men, who had +slipped in and were sitting at the back of the little stifling room, +hugely enjoying the irony of the situation, and determined on ending the +discussion with an announcement of his own identity.</p> + +<p>Presently an opportunity occurred. The little old man had shown a +dangerous tendency to discourse on the suffering souls in purgatory, and +on the miseries inflicted on them by the cessation of masses and +suffrages for their welfare; and an uncomfortable awe-stricken silence +had fallen on the others.</p> + +<p>Ralph stood up abruptly, and began to speak, his bright tired eyes +shining down on the solemn faces, and his mouth set and precise.</p> + +<p>“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “your talk has pleased me very much. I have +learned a great deal, and I hope shall profit by it. Some of you have +talked a quantity of nonsense; and you, Mr. Miggers, have talked the +most, about your uncle John’s soul and bones.”</p> + +<p>A deadly silence fell as these startling words were pronounced; for his +manner up to now had been conciliatory and almost apologetic. But he +went on imperturbably.</p> + +<p>“I am quite sure that Almighty God knows His business better than you or +I, Mr. Miggers; and if He cannot take care of Uncle John without the aid +of masses or dirges sung by fat-bellied monks—”</p> + +<p>He stopped abruptly, and a squirt of laughter burst from the butcher.</p> + +<p>“Well, this is my opinion,” went on Ralph, “if you wish to know it. I +do not think, or suspect, as some of you do—but I <i>know</i>—as you will +allow presently that I do, when I tell you who I am—I <i>know</i> that these +houses of which we have been speaking, are nothing better than +wasps’-nests. The fellows look holy enough in their liveries, they make +a deal of buzz, they go to and fro as if on business; but they make no +honey that is worth your while or mine to take. There is but one thing +that they have in their holes that is worth anything: and that is their +jewels and their gold, and the lead on their churches and the bells in +their towers. And all that, by the Grace of God we will soon have out of +them.”</p> + +<p>There was a faint murmur of mingled applause and dissent. Mr. Miggers +stared vacant-faced at this preposterous stranger, and set his mug +resolutely down as a preparation for addressing him, but he had no +opportunity. Ralph was warmed now by his own eloquence, and swept on.</p> + +<p>“You think I do not know of what I am speaking? Well, I have a brother a +monk at Lewes, and a sister a nun at Rusper; and I have been brought up +in this religion until I am weary of it. My sister—well, she is like +other maidens of her kind—not a word to speak of any matter but our +Lady and the Saints and how many candles Saint Christopher likes. And my +brother!—Well, we can leave that.</p> + +<p>“I know these houses as none of you know them; I know how much wine they +drink, how much they charge for their masses, how much treasonable +chatter they carry on in private—I know their lives as I know my own; +and I know that they are rotten and useless altogether. They may give a +plateful or two in charity and a mug of beer; they gorge ten dishes +themselves, and swill a hogshead. They give a penny to the poor man, and +keep twenty nobles for themselves. They take field after field, house +after house; turn the farmer into the beggar, and the beggar into their +bedesman. And, by God! I say that the sooner King Henry gets rid of the +crew, the better for you and me!”</p> + +<p>Ralph snapped out the last words, and stared insolently down on the +gaping faces. Then he finished, standing by the door as he did so, with +his hand on the latch.</p> + +<p>“If you would know how I know all this, I will tell you. My name is +Torridon, of Overfield; and I am one of the King’s Visitors. Good-night, +gentlemen.”</p> + +<p>There was the silence of the grave within, as Ralph went upstairs +smiling to himself.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Ralph had intended returning home a week or two after the Lewes +visitation, but there was a good deal to be done, and Layton had pointed +out to him that even if some houses were visited twice over it would do +no harm to the rich monks to pay double fees; so it was not till +Christmas was a week away that he rode at last up to his house-door at +Westminster.</p> + +<p>His train had swelled to near a dozen men and horses by now, for he had +accumulated a good deal of treasure beside that which he had left in +Layton’s hands, and it would not have been safe to travel with a smaller +escort; so it was a gay and imposing cavalcade that clattered through +the narrow streets. Ralph himself rode in front, in solitary dignity, +his weapon jingling at his stirrup, his feather spruce and bright above +his spare keen face; a couple of servants rode behind, fully armed and +formidable looking, and then the train came behind—beasts piled with +bundles that rustled and clinked suggestively, and the men who guarded +them gay with scraps of embroidery and a cheap jewel or two here and +there in their dress.</p> + +<p>But Ralph did not feel so gallant as he looked. During these long +country rides he had had too much time to think, and the thought of +Beatrice and of what she would say seldom left him. The very harshness +of his experiences, the rough faces round him, the dialect of the stable +and the inn, the coarse conversation—all served to make her image the +more gracious and alluring. It was a kind of worship, shot with passion, +that he felt for her. Her grave silences coincided with his own, her +tenderness yielded deliciously to his strength.</p> + +<p>As he sat over his fire with his men whispering behind him, planning as +they thought new assaults on the rich nests that they all hated and +coveted together, again and again it was Beatrice’s face, and not that +of a shrewd or anxious monk, that burned in the red heart of the hearth. +He had seen it with downcast eyes, with the long lashes lying on the +cheek, and the curved red lips discreetly shut beneath; the masses of +black hair shadowed the forehead and darkened the secret that he wished +to read. Or he had watched her, like a jewel in a pig-sty, looking +across the foul-littered farm where he had had to sleep more than once +with his men about him; her black eyes looking into his own with tender +gravity, and her mouth trembling with speech. Or best of all, as he rode +along the bitter cold lanes at the fall of the day, the crowding yews +above him had parted and let her stand there, with her long skirts +rustling in the dry leaves, her slender figure blending with the +darkness, and her sweet face trusting and loving him out of the gloom.</p> + +<p>And then again, like the prick of a wound, the question had touched him, +how would she receive him when he came back with the monastic spoils on +his beasts’ shoulders, and the wail of the nuns shrilling like the wind +behind?</p> + +<p>But by the time that he came back to London he had thought out his +method of meeting her. Probably she had had news of the doings of the +Visitors, perhaps of his own in particular; it was hardly possible that +his father had not written; she would ask for an explanation, and she +should have instead an appeal to her confidence. He would tell her that +sad things had indeed happened, that he had been forced to be present at +and even to carry out incidents which he deplored; but that he had done +his utmost to be merciful. It was rough work, he would say; but it was +work that had to be done; and since that was so—and this was Cromwell’s +teaching—it was better that honourable gentlemen should do it. He had +not been able always to restrain the violence of his men—and for that +he needed forgiveness from her dear lips; and it would be easy enough to +tell stories against him that it would be hard to disprove; but if she +loved and trusted him, and he knew that she did, let her take his word +for it that no injustice had been deliberately done, that on the other +hand he had been the means under God of restraining many such acts, and +that his conscience was clear.</p> + +<p>It was a moving appeal, Ralph thought, and it almost convinced himself. +He was not conscious of any gross insincerity in the defence; of course +it was shaded artistically, and the more brutal details kept out of +sight, but in the main it was surely true. And, as he rehearsed its +points to himself once more in the streets of Westminster, he felt that +though there might be a painful moment or two, yet it would do his work.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He had sent a message home that he was coming, and the door of his home +was wide as he dismounted, and the pleasant light of candles shone out, +for the evening was smouldering to dark in the west.</p> + +<p>A crowd had collected as he went along; from every window faces were +leaning; and as he stood on the steps directing the removal of the +treasure into the house, he saw that the mob filled the tiny street, and +the cobbled space, from side to side. They were chiefly of the idling +class, folks who had little to do but to follow up excitements and +shout; and there were a good many cries raised for the King’s Grace and +his Visitors, for such people as these were greedy for any movement that +might bring them gain, and the Religious Houses were beginning to be +more unpopular in town than ever.</p> + +<p>One of the bundles slipped as it was shifted, the cord came off, and in +a moment the little space beyond the mule before the door was covered +with gleaming stuff and jewels.</p> + +<p>There was a fierce scuffle and a cry, and Ralph was in a moment beyond +the mule with his sword out. He said nothing but stood there fierce and +alert as the crowd sucked back, and the servant gathered up the things. +There was no more trouble, for it had only been a spasmodic snatch at +the wealth, and a cheer or two was raised again among the grimy faces +that stared at the fine gentleman and the shining treasure.</p> + +<p>Ralph thought it better, however, to say a conciliatory word when the +things had been bestowed in the house, and the mules led away; and he +stood on the steps a moment alone before entering himself.</p> + +<p>The crowd listened complacently enough to the statements which they had +begun to believe from the fact of the incessant dinning of them into +their ears by the selected preachers at Paul’s Cross and elsewhere; and +there was loud groan at the Pope’s name.</p> + +<p>Ralph was ending with an incise peroration that he had delivered more +than once before.</p> + +<p>“You know all this, good people; and you shall know it better when the +work is done. Instead of the rich friars and monks we will have godly +citizens, each with his house and land. The King’s Grace has promised +it, and you know that he keeps his word. We have had enough of the +jackdaws and their stolen goods; we will have honest birds instead. Only +be patient a little longer—”</p> + +<p>The listening silence was broken by a loud cry—</p> + +<p>“You damned plundering hound—”</p> + +<p>A stone suddenly out of the gloom whizzed past Ralph and crashed through +the window behind. A great roaring rose in a moment, and the crowd +swayed and turned.</p> + +<p>Ralph felt his heart suddenly quicken, and his hand flew to his hilt +again, but there was no need for him to act. There were terrible screams +already rising from the seething twilight in front, as the stone-thrower +was seized and trampled. He stayed a moment longer, dropped his hilt and +went into the house.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_2IX">CHAPTER IX<br><span class="small">RALPH’S WELCOME</span></h4></div> + + +<p>“You will show Mistress Atherton into the room below,” said Ralph to his +man, “as soon as she comes.”</p> + +<p>He was sitting on the morning following his arrival in his own chamber +upstairs. His table was a mass of papers, account-books, reckonings, +reports bearing on his Visitation journey, and he had been working at +them ever since he was dressed; for he had to present himself before +Cromwell in the course of a day or two, and the labour would be +enormous.</p> + +<p>The room below, opposite that in which he intended to see Beatrice and +where she had waited herself a few months before while he talked with +Cromwell and the Archbishop, was now occupied by his collection of plate +and vestments, and the key was in his own pocket.</p> + +<p>He had heard from his housekeeper on the previous evening that Beatrice +had called at the house during the afternoon, and had seemed surprised +to hear that he was to return that night; but she had said very little, +it appeared, and had only begged the woman to inform her master that she +would present herself at his house the next morning.</p> + +<p>And now Ralph was waiting for her.</p> + +<p>He was more ill-at-ease than he had expected to be. The events of the +evening before had given him a curious shock; and he cursed the whole +business—the snapping of the cord round the bundle, his own action and +words, the outrage that followed, and the death of the fellow that had +thrown the stone—for the body had been rescued by the watch a few +minutes later, a tattered crushed thing, beaten out of all likeness to a +man. One of the watch had stepped in to see Ralph as he sat at supper, +and had gone again saying the dog deserved it for daring to lift his +voice against the King and his will.</p> + +<p>But above all Ralph repented of his own words. There was no harm in +saying such things in the country; but it was foolish and rash to do so +in town. Cromwell’s men should be silent and discreet, he knew, not +street-orators; and if he had had time to think he would not have +spoken. However the crowd was with him; there was plainly no one of any +importance there; it was unlikely that Cromwell himself would hear of +the incident; and perhaps after all no harm was done.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile there was Beatrice to reckon with, and Ralph laid down his pen +a dozen times that morning and rehearsed once more what he would have to +say to her.</p> + +<p>He was shrewd enough to know that it was his personality and not his +virtues or his views that had laid hold of this girl’s soul. As it was +with him, so it was with her; each was far enough apart from the other +in all external matters; such things had been left behind a year ago; it +was not an affair of consonant tastes, but of passion. From each there +had looked deep inner eyes; there had been on either side a steady and +fearless scrutiny, and then the two souls had leapt together in a bright +flame of desire, knowing that each was made for the other. There had +been so little love-making, so few speeches after the first meeting or +two, so few letters exchanged, and fewer embraces. The last veils had +fallen at the fury of Chris’s intervention, and they had known then what +had been inevitable all along.</p> + +<p>Ralph smiled to himself as he remembered how little he had said or she +had answered; there had been no need to say anything. And then his eyes +grew wide and passionate, and his hands gripped one another fiercely, as +the memory died, and the burning flame of desire flared within him again +from the deep well he bore in his heart. The world of affairs and +explanations and evasions faded into twilight, and there was but one +thing left, his love and hers. It was to that that he would appeal.</p> + +<p>He sat so a moment longer, and then took up his pen again, though it +shook in his hand, and went on with his reckonings.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He was perfectly composed half an hour later as he went downstairs to +meet her. He had finished his line of figures sedately when the man +looked in to say that she was below; and had sat yet a moment longer, +trying to remember mechanically what it was he had determined to tell +her. Bah! it was trifling and unimportant; words did not affect the +question; all the wrecked convents in the world could not touch the one +fact that lay in fire at his heart. He would say nothing; she would +understand.</p> + +<p>In the tiny entrance hall there was a whiff of fragrance where she had +passed through; and his heart stirred in answer. Then he opened the +door, stepped through and closed it behind him.</p> + +<p>She was standing upright by the hearth, and faced him as he entered. He +was aware of her blue mantle, her white, jewelled head-dress, one hand +gripping the mantel-shelf, her pale steady face and bright eyes. Behind +there was the warm rich panelling, and the leaping glow of the wood +fire.</p> + +<p>She made no movement.</p> + +<p>Outside the lane was filled with street noises, the cries of children, +the voices of men who went by talking, the rumble of a waggon coming +with the crack of whips and jingle of bells from the river. The wheels +came up and went past into silence again before either spoke or moved.</p> + +<p>Then Ralph lifted his hands a little and let them drop, as he stared at +her face. From her eyes looked out her will, tense as steel; and his own +shook to meet it.</p> + +<p>“Well?” she said at last; and her voice was perfectly steady.</p> + +<p>“Beatrice,” cried Ralph; and the agony of it tore his heart.</p> + +<p>She dropped her hand to her side and still looked at him without +flinching.</p> + +<p>“Beatrice,” cried Ralph once more.</p> + +<p>“Then you have no more to say—after last night?”</p> + +<p>A torrent of thoughts broke loose in his brain, and he tried to snatch +one as they fled past—to say one word. His excuses went by him like +phantoms; they bewildered and dazed him. Why, there were a thousand +things to say, and each was convincing if he could but say it. The cloud +passed and there were her eyes watching him still.</p> + +<p>“Then that is all?” she said.</p> + +<p>Again the cloud fell on him; little scenes piteously clear rose before +him, of the road by Rusper convent, Layton’s leering face, a stripped +altar; and for each there was a tale if he could but tell it. And still +the bright eyes never flinched.</p> + +<p>It seemed to him as if she was watching him curiously; her lips were +parted, and her head was a little on one side; her face interested and +impersonal.</p> + +<p>“Why, Beatrice—” he cried again.</p> + +<p>Then her love shook her like a storm; he had never dreamed she could +look like that; her mouth shook; he could see her white teeth clenched; +and a shiver went over her. He took one step forward, but stopped again, +for the black eyes shone through the passion that swayed her, as keen +and remorseless as ever.</p> + +<p>He dropped on to his knees at the table and buried his face in his +hands. He knew nothing now but that he had lost her.</p> + +<p>That was her voice speaking now, as steady as her eyes; but he did not +hear a word she said. Words were nothing; they were not so much as those +cries from the street, that shrill boy’s voice over the way; not so much +as the sighing crackle from the hearth where he had caused a fire to be +lighted lest she should feel cold.</p> + +<p>She was still speaking, but her voice had moved; she was no longer by +the fire. He could feel the warmth of the fire now on his hands. But he +dared not move nor look up; there was but one thing left for him—that +he had lost her!</p> + +<p>That was her hand on the latch; a breath of cold air stirred his hair; +and still she was speaking. He understood a little more now; she knew it +all—his doings—what he had said last night—and there was not one word +to say in answer. Her short lashing sentences fell on his defenceless +soul, but all sense was dead, and he watched with a dazed impersonalness +how each stroke went home, and yet he felt no pain or shame.</p> + +<p>She was going now; a picture stirred on the wall by the fire as the wind +rushed in through the open street door.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Then the door closed.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h3 class="nobreak" id="PART_II">PART II<br><span class="small">THE FALL OF LEWES</span></h3></div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_3I">CHAPTER I<br><span class="small">INTERNAL DISSENSION</span></h4></div> + + +<p>The peace was gone from Lewes Priory. A wave had broken in through the +high wall from the world outside with the coming of the Visitors, and +had left wreckage behind, and swept out security as it went. The monks +knew now that their old privileges were gone with the treasures that +Layton had taken with him, and that although the wave had recoiled, it +would return again and sweep them all away.</p> + +<p>Upon none of them had the blow fallen more fiercely than on Chris; he +had tried to find peace, and instead was in the midst of storm. The high +barriers had gone, and with them the security of his own soul, and the +world that he thought he had left was grinning at the breach.</p> + +<p>It was piteous to him to see the Prior—that delicate, quiet prelate who +had held himself aloof in his dignities—now humbled by the shame of his +exposure in the chapter-house. The courage that Bishop Fisher had +restored to him in some measure was gone again; and it was miserable to +look at that white downcast face in the church and refectory, and to +recognise that all self-respect was gone. After his return from his +appearance before Cromwell he was more wretched than ever; it was known +that he had been sent back in contemptuous disgrace; but it was not +known how much he had promised in his terror for life.</p> + +<p>The house had lost too some half-dozen of its inmates. Two had +petitioned for release; three professed monks had been dismissed, and a +recent novice had been sent back to his home. Their places in the +stately choir were empty, and eloquent with warning; and in their stead +was a fantastic secular priest, appointed by the Visitors’ authority, +who seldom said mass, and never attended choir; but was regular in the +refectory, and the chapter-house where he thundered St. Paul’s epistles +at the monks, and commentaries of his own, in the hopes of turning them +from papistry to a purer faith.</p> + +<p>The news from outside echoed their own misery. Week after week the tales +poured in, of young and old dismissed back to the world whose ways they +had forgotten, of the rape of treasures priceless not only for their +intrinsic worth but for the love that had given and consecrated them +through years of devout service. There was not a house that had not lost +something; the King himself had sanctioned the work by taking precious +horns and a jewelled cross from Winchester. And worse than all that had +gone was the terror of what was yet to come. The world, which had been +creeping nearer, pausing and creeping on again, had at last passed the +boundaries and leapt to sacrilege.</p> + +<p>It was this terror that poisoned life. The sacristan who polished the +jewels that were left, handled them doubtfully now; the monk who +superintended the farm sickened as he made his plans for another year; +the scribe who sat in the carrel lost enthusiasm for his work; for the +jewels in a few months might be on royal fingers, the beasts in +strangers’ sheds, and the illuminated leaves blowing over the cobbled +court, or wrapped round grocers’ stores.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony preached a sermon on patience one day in Christmastide, +telling his fellows that a man’s life, and still less a monk’s, +consisted not in the abundance of things that he possessed; and that +corporate, as well as individual, poverty, had been the ideal of the +monastic houses in earlier days. He was no great preacher, but the +people loved to hear his homely remarks, and there was a murmur of +sympathy as he pointed with a clumsy gesture to the lighted Crib that +had been erected at the foot of one of the great pillars in the nave.</p> + +<p>“Our Lady wore no cloth of gold,” he said, “nor Saint Joseph a precious +mitre; and the blessed Redeemer Himself who made all things had but +straw to His bed. And if our new cope is gone, we can make our +processions in the old one, and please God no less. Nay, we may please +Him more perhaps, for He knows that it is by no will of ours that we do +so.”</p> + +<p>But there had been a dismal scene at the chapter next morning. The Prior +had made them a speech, with a passionate white face and hands that +shook, and declared that the sermon would be their ruin yet if the +King’s Grace heard of it.</p> + +<p>“There was a fellow that went out half-way through,” he cried in panic, +“how do we know whether he is not talking with his Grace even now? I +will not have such sermons; and you shall be my witnesses that I said +so.”</p> + +<p>The monks eyed one another miserably. How could they prosper under such +a prior as this?</p> + +<p>But worse was to follow, though it did not directly affect this house. +The bill, so long threatened, dissolving the smaller houses, was passed +in February by a Parliament carefully packed to carry out the King’s +wishes, and from which the spiritual peers were excluded by his +“permission to them to absent themselves.” Lewes Priory, of course, +exceeded the limit of revenue under which other houses were suppressed, +and even received one monk who had obtained permission to go there when +his community fell; but in spite of the apparent encouragement from the +preamble of the bill which stated that “in the great solemn monasteries +... religion was right well kept,” it was felt that this act was but the +herald of another which should make an end of Religious Houses +altogether.</p> + +<p>But there was a breath of better news later on, when tidings came in the +early summer that Anne was in disgrace. It was well known that it was +her influence that egged the King on, and that there was none so fierce +against the old ways. Was it not possible that Henry might even yet +repent himself, if she were out of the way?</p> + +<p>Then the tidings were confirmed, and for a while there was hope.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Sir Nicholas Maxwell rode over to see Chris, and was admitted into one +of the parlours to talk with him.</p> + +<p>He seemed furiously excited, and hardly saluted his brother-in-law.</p> + +<p>“Chris,” he said, “I have come straight from London with great news. The +King’s harlot is fallen.”</p> + +<p>Chris stared.</p> + +<p>“Dead?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Dead in a day or two, thank God!”</p> + +<p>He spat furiously.</p> + +<p>“God strike her!” he cried. “She has wrought all the mischief, I +believe. They told me so a year back, but I did not believe it.”</p> + +<p>“And where is she?”</p> + +<p>Then Nicholas told his story, his ruddy comely face bright with +exultation, for he had no room for pity left. The rumours that had come +to Lewes were true. Anne had been arrested suddenly at Greenwich during +the sports, and had been sent straight to the Tower. The King was weary +of her, though she had borne him a child; and did not scruple to bring +the most odious charges against her. She had denied, and denied; but it +was useless. She had wept and laughed in prison, and called on God to +vindicate her; but the process went on none the less. The marriage had +been declared null and void by Dr. Cranmer who had blessed it; and now +she was condemned for sinning against it.</p> + +<p>“But she is either his wife,” said Chris amazed, “or else she is not +guilty of adultery.”</p> + +<p>Nicholas chuckled.</p> + +<p>“God save us, Chris; do you think Henry can’t manage it?”</p> + +<p>Then he grew white with passion, and beat the table and damned the King +and Anne and Cranmer to hell together.</p> + +<p>Chris glanced up, drumming his fingers softly on the table.</p> + +<p>“Nick,” he said, “there is no use in that. When is she to die?”</p> + +<p>The knight’s face flushed again with pleasure, and he showed his teeth +set together.</p> + +<p>“Two days,” he said, “please God, or three at the most. And she will not +meet those she has sent before her, or John Fisher whose head she had +brought to her—the bloody Herodias!”</p> + +<p>“Pray God that she will!” said Chris softly. “They will pray for her at +least.”</p> + +<p>“Pah!” shouted Nicholas, “an eye for an eye for me!”</p> + +<p>Chris said nothing. He was thinking of all that this might mean. Who +could know what might not happen? Nicholas broke in again presently.</p> + +<p>“I heard a fine tale,” he said, “do you know that the woman is in the +very room where she slept the night before the crowning? Last time it +was for the crown to be put on; now it is for the head to be taken off. +And it is true that she weeps and laughs. They can hear her laugh two +storeys away, I hear.”</p> + +<p>“Nick,” said Chris suddenly, “I am weary of that. Let her alone. Pray +God she may turn!”</p> + +<p>Nicholas stared astonished, and a little awed too. Chris used not to be +like this; he seemed quieter and stronger; he had never dared to speak +so before.</p> + +<p>“Yes; I am weary of this,” said Chris again. “I stormed once at Ralph, +and gained nothing. We do not win by those weapons. Where is Ralph?”</p> + +<p>Nicholas knit his lips to keep in the fury that urged him.</p> + +<p>“He is with Cromwell still,” he said venomously, “and very busy, I hear. +They will be making him a lord soon—but there will be no lady.”</p> + +<p>Chris had heard of Beatrice’s rejection of Ralph.</p> + +<p>“He is still busy?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes; he worked long at this bill, I hear.”</p> + +<p>Chris asked a few more questions, and learned that Ralph seemed fiercer +than ever since the Visitation. He was well-known at Court; had been +seen riding with the King; and it was supposed that he was rising +rapidly in favour every day.</p> + +<p>“God help him!” sighed Chris.</p> + +<p>The change that had come over Chris was very much marked. Neither a life +in the world would have done it, nor one in the peace of the cloister; +but an alternation of the two. He had been melted by the fire of the +inner life, and braced by the external bitterness of adversity. Ralph’s +visit to the priory, culminating in the passionless salutation of him in +the cloister as being a guest and therefore a representative of Christ, +had ended that stage in the development of the monk’s character. Chris +was disappointed in his brother, fearful for him and stern in his +attitude towards him; but he was not resentful. He was sincere when he +prayed God to help him.</p> + +<p>When Nicholas had eaten and gone, carrying messages to Mary, Chris told +the others, and there was a revival of hope in the house.</p> + +<p>Then a few days later came the news of Anne’s death and of the marriage +of the King with Jane Seymour on the following day. At least Jane was a +lawful wife and queen in the Catholics’ eyes, for Katharine too was +dead.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Chris had now passed through the minor orders, the sub-diaconate and the +diaconate, and was looking forward to priesthood. It had been thought +advisable by his superiors, in view of the troubled state of the times, +to apply for the necessary dispensations, and they had been granted +without difficulty. So many monks who were not priests had been turned +into the world resourceless, since they could not be appointed to +benefices, that it was thought only fair to one who was already bound by +vows of religion and sacred orders not to hold him back from an +opportunity to make his living, should affairs be pushed further in the +direction of dissolution.</p> + +<p>He was looking forward with an extraordinary zeal to the crown of +priesthood. It seemed to him a possession that would compensate for all +other losses. If he could but make the Body of the Lord, lift It before +the Throne, and hold It in his hands, all else was trifling.</p> + +<p>There were waves of ecstatic peace again breaking over his soul as he +thought of it; as he moved behind the celebrant at high mass, lifted the +pall of the chalice, and sang the exultant <i>Ite missa est</i> when all was +done. What a power would be his on that day! He would have his finger +then on the huge engine of grace, and could turn it whither he would, +spraying infinite force on this and that soul, on Ralph stubbornly +fighting against God in London, on his mother silent and bitter at home, +on his father anxious and courageous, waiting for disaster, on Margaret +trembling in Rusper nunnery as she contemplated the defiance she had +flung in the King’s face.</p> + +<p>The Prior had given him but little encouragement; he had sent for him +one day, and told him that he might prepare himself for priesthood by +Michaelmas, for a foreign bishop was coming to them, and leave would be +obtained for him to administer the rite. But he had not said a word of +counsel or congratulation; but had nodded to the young monk, and turned +his sickly face to the papers again on his table.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony, the pleasant stout guest-master, who had preached the +sermon in Christmastide, said a word of comfort, as they walked in the +cloister together.</p> + +<p>“You must not take it amiss, brother,” he said, “my Lord Prior is beside +himself with terror. He does not know how to act.”</p> + +<p>Chris asked whether there were any new reason for alarm.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no!” said the monk, “but the people are getting cold towards us +here. You have seen how few come to mass here now, or to confession. +They are going to the secular priests instead.”</p> + +<p>Chris remembered one or two other instances of this growing coldness. +The poor folks who came for food complained of its quality two or three +times; and one fellow, an old pensioner of the house, who had lost a +leg, threw his portion down on the doorstep.</p> + +<p>“I will have better than that some day,” he had said, as he limped off. +Chris had gathered up the cold lentils patiently and carried them back +to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>On another day a farmer had flatly refused a favour to the monk who +superintended the priory-farm.</p> + +<p>“I will not have your beasts in my orchard,” he had said roughly. “You +are not my masters.”</p> + +<p>The congregations too were visibly declining, as the guest-master had +said. The great nave beyond the screen looked desolate in the +summer-mornings, as the sunlight lay in coloured patches on the wide +empty pavement between the few faithful gathered in front, and the half +dozen loungers who leaned in the shadow of the west wall—men who +fulfilled their obligation of hearing mass, with a determination to do +so with the least inconvenience to themselves, and who scuffled out +before the blessing.</p> + +<p>It was evident that the tide of faith and reverence was beginning to ebb +even in the quiet country towns.</p> + +<p>As the summer drew on the wider world too had its storms. A fierce +sermon was preached at the opening of Convocation, by Dr. Latimer, now +Bishop of Worcester, at the express desire of the Archbishop, that +scourged not only the regular but the secular clergy as well. The sermon +too was more furiously Protestant than any previously preached on such +an occasion; pilgrimages, the stipends for masses, image-worship, and +the use of an unknown tongue in divine service, were alike denounced as +contrary to the “pure gospel.” The phrases of Luther were abundantly +used in the discourse; and it was evident, from the fact that no public +censure fell upon the preacher, that Henry’s own religious views had +developed since the day that he had published his attack on the foreign +reformers.</p> + +<p>The proceedings of Convocation confirmed the suspicion that the sermon +aroused. With an astonishing compliance the clergy first ratified the +decree of nullity in the matter of Anne’s marriage with the King, +disclaimed obedience to Rome, and presented a list of matters for which +they requested reform. In answer to this last point the King, assisted +by a couple of bishops, sent down to the houses, a month later, a paper +of articles to which the clergy instantly agreed. These articles +proceeded in the direction of Protestantism through omission rather than +affirmation. Baptism, Penance and the Sacrament of the Altar were spoken +of in Catholic terms; the other four sacraments were omitted altogether; +on the other hand, again, devotion to saints, image-worship, and prayers +for the departed were enjoined with important qualifications.</p> + +<p>Finally it was agreed to support the King in his refusal to be +represented at the proposed General Council at Mantua.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The tidings of all this, filtering in to the house at Lewes by priests +and Religious who stayed there from time to time, did not tend to +reassure those who looked for peace. The assault was not going to stop +at matters of discipline; it was dogma that was aimed at, and, worse +even than that, the foundation on which dogma rested. It was not an +affair of Religious Houses, or even of morality; there was concerned the +very Rock itself on which Christendom based all faith and morals. If it +was once admitted that a National Church, apart from the See of Rome, +could in the smallest degree adjudicate on a point of doctrine, the +unity of the Catholic Church as understood by every monk in the house, +was immediately ruptured.</p> + +<p>Again and again in chapter there were terrible scenes. The Prior raved +weakly, crying that it was not the part of a good Catholic to resist his +prince, that the Apostle himself enjoined obedience to those in +authority; that the new light of learning had illuminated perplexing +problems; and that in the uncertainty it was safer to follow the certain +duty of civil obedience. Dom Anthony answered that a greater than St. +Paul had bidden His followers to render to God the things that were +God’s; that St. Peter was crucified sooner than obey Nero—and the Prior +cried out for silence; and that he could not hear his Christian King +likened to the heathen emperor. Monk after monk would rise; one +following his Prior, and disclaiming personal learning and +responsibility; another with ironic deference saying that a man’s soul +was his own, and that not even a Religious Superior could release from +the biddings of conscience; another would balance himself between the +parties, declaring that the distinction of duties was insoluble; that in +such a case as this it was impossible to know what was due to God and +what to man. Yet another voice would rise from time to time declaring +that the tales that they heard were incredible; that it was impossible +that the King should intend such evil against the Church; he still heard +his three masses a day as he had always done; there was no more ardent +defender of the Sacrament of the Altar.</p> + +<p>Chris used to steady himself in this storm of words as well as he could, +by reflecting that he probably would not have to make a decision, for it +would be done for him, at least as regarded his life in the convent or +out, by his superiors. Or again he would fix his mind resolutely on his +approaching priesthood; while the Prior sat gnawing his lips, playing +with his cross and rapping his foot, before bursting out again and +bidding them all be silent, for they knew not what they were meddling +with.</p> + +<p>The misery rose to its climax when the Injunctions arrived; and the +chapter sat far into the morning, meeting again after dinner to consider +them.</p> + +<p>These were directions, issued to the clergy throughout the country, by +the authority of the King alone; and this very fact was significant of +what the Royal Supremacy meant. Some of them did not touch the +Religious, and were intended only for parish-priests; but others were +bitterly hard to receive.</p> + +<p>The community was informed that in future, once in every quarter, a +sermon was to be preached against the Bishop of Rome’s usurped power; +the Ten Articles, previously issued, were to be brought before the +notice of the congregation; and careful instructions were to be given as +regards superstition in the matter of praying to the saints. It was the +first of these that caused the most strife.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony, who was becoming more and more the leader of the +conservative party, pointed out that the See of Peter was to every +Catholic the root of authority and unity, and that Christianity itself +was imperilled if this rock were touched.</p> + +<p>The Prior angrily retorted that it was not the Holy See that was to be +assaulted, but the erection falsely raised upon it; it was the abuse of +power, not the use of it that had to be denounced.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony requested the Prior to inform him where the line of +distinction lay; and the Prior in answer burst into angry explanations, +instancing the pecuniary demands of the Pope, the appointment of +foreigners to English benefices, and all the rest of the accusations +that were playing such a part now in the religious controversy of the +country.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony replied that those were not the matters principally aimed at +by the Injunction; it concerned rather the whole constitution of +Christ’s Church, and was a question of the Pope’s or the King’s +supremacy over that part of it that lay in England.</p> + +<p>Finally the debate was ended by the Prior’s declaration that he could +trust no one to preach the enjoined sermon but himself, and that he +would see to it on his own responsibility.</p> + +<p>It was scarcely an inspiring atmosphere for one who was preparing to +take on him the burden of priesthood in the Catholic Church.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_3II">CHAPTER II<br><span class="small">SACERDOS IN AETERNUM</span></h4></div> + + +<p>It was a day of wonderful autumn peace when Chris first sang mass in the +presence of the Community.</p> + +<p>The previous day he had received priesthood from the hands of the little +old French bishop in the priory church; one by one strange mystical +ceremonies had been performed; the stole had been shifted and crossed on +the breast, the token of Christ’s yoke; the chasuble had been placed +over his head, looped behind; then the rolling cry to the Spirit of God +who alone seals to salvation and office had pealed round the high roof +and down the long nave that stretched away westwards in sunlit gloom; +while across the outstretched hands of the monk had been streaked the +sacred oil, giving him the power to bless the things of God. The hands +were bound up, as if to heal the indelible wound of love that had been +inflicted on them; and, before they were unbound, into the hampered +fingers were slid the sacred vessels of the altar, occupied now by the +elements of bread and wine; while the awful power to offer sacrifice for +the quick and the dead was committed to him in one tremendous phrase.</p> + +<p>Then the mass went on; and the new priest, kneeling with Dom Anthony at +a little bench set at the foot of the altar steps, repeated aloud with +the bishop the words of the liturgy from the great painted missal lying +before him.</p> + +<p>How strange it had been too when all was over! He stood by a pillar in +the nave, beneath St. Pancras’s image, while all came to receive his +blessing. First, the Prior, pale and sullen, as always now; then the +Community, some smiling and looking into his eyes before they knelt, +some perfunctory, some solemn and sedate with downcast faces; each +kissed the fragrant hands, and stood aside, while the laity came up; and +first among them his father and Mary.</p> + +<p>His place too in the refectory had a flower or two laid beside it; and +the day had gone by in a bewildering dream. He had walked with his +father and sister a little, and had found himself smiling and silent in +their company.</p> + +<p>In the evening he had once more gone through the ceremonies of mass, Dom +Anthony stood by, and watched and reminded and criticised. And now the +morning was come, and he stood at the altar.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The little wind had dropped last night, and the hills round Lewes stood +in mellow sunlight; the atmosphere was full of light and warmth, that +tender glow that falls on autumn days; the trees in the court outside +stood, poised on the brink of sleep, with a yellow pallor tinging their +leaves; the thousand pigeons exulted and wheeled in the intoxicating +air.</p> + +<p>The shadowy church was alight with sunshine that streamed through the +clerestory windows on to the heavy pillars, the unevenly paved floor, +and crept down the recumbent figures of noble and bishop from head to +foot. There were a few people present beyond the screen, Sir James and +his daughter in front, watching with a tender reverence the harvesting +of the new priest, as he prepared to gather under his hands the mystical +wheat and grapes of God.</p> + +<p>Chris was perfectly practised in his ceremonies; and there was no +anxiety to dissipate the overpowering awe that lay on his soul. He felt +at once natural and unreal; it was supremely natural that he should be +here; he could not conceive being other than a priest; there was in him +a sense of a relaxed rather than an intensified strain; and yet the +whole matter was strange and intangible, as he felt the supernatural +forces gathering round, and surging through his soul.</p> + +<p>He was aware of a dusky sunlit space about him, of the glimmer of the +high candles; and nearer of the white cloth, the shining vessels, the +gorgeous missal, and the rustle of the ministers’ vestments. But the +whole was shot with an inner life, each detail was significant and +sacramental; and he wondered sometimes at the inaudible vibration that +stirred the silent air round him, as he spoke the familiar words to +which he had listened so often.</p> + +<p>He kept his eyes resolutely down as he turned from time to time, +spreading his hands to the people, and was only partly conscious of the +faces watching him from the dark stalls in front and the sunlit nave +beyond. Even the sacred ministers, Dom Anthony and another, seemed to be +little more than crimson impersonal figures that moved and went about +their stately business with deft and gracious hands.</p> + +<p>As he began to penetrate more nearly to the heart of the mystery, and +the angels’ song before the throne rolled up from the choir, there was +an experience of a yet further retirement from the things of sense. Even +the glittering halpas, and the gleams of light above it where the five +chapels branched behind—even these things became shrouded; there was +just a sheet of white beneath him, the glow of a chalice, and the pale +disc of the sacrificial bread.</p> + +<p>Then, as he paused, with hands together—“<i>famulorum famularumque +tuarum</i>”—there opened out the world where his spirit was bending its +intention. Figure after figure came up and passed before his closed +eyes, and on each he turned the beam of God’s grace. First Ralph, +sneering and aloof in his rich dress, intent on some Satanic +business;—Chris seized as it were the power of God, and enveloped and +penetrated him with it. Then Margaret, waiting terrified on the divine +will; his mother in her complacent bitterness; Mary; his father—and as +he thought of him it seemed as if all God’s blessings were not too +great; Nicholas; his own brethren in religion, his Prior, contracted and +paralysed with terror; Dom Anthony, with his pathetic geniality....</p> + +<p>Ah! how short was the time; and yet so long that the Prior looked up +sharply, and the deacon shifted in his rustling silk.</p> + +<p>Then again the hands opened, and the stately flood of petition poured +on, as through open gates to the boundless sea that awaited it, where +the very heart of God was to absorb it into Itself.</p> + +<p>The great names began to flit past, like palaces on a river-brink, their +bases washed by the pouring liturgy—Peter and Paul, Simon and Thaddeus, +Cosmas and Damian—vast pleasure houses alight with God, while near at +hand now gleamed the line of the infinite ocean.</p> + +<p>The hands came together, arched in blessing; and it marked the first +sting of the healing water, as the Divine Essence pushed forward to meet +man’s need.</p> + +<p>“<i>Hanc igitur oblationem ...</i>”</p> + +<p>Then followed the swift silent signs, as if the pilot were ordering +sails out to meet the breeze.</p> + +<p>The muttering voice sank to a deliberate whisper, the ripples ceased to +leap as the river widened, and Chris was delicately fingering the white +linen before taking the Host into his hands.</p> + +<p>There was a swift glance up, as to the great Sun that burned overhead, +one more noiseless sign, and he sank forward in unutterable awe, with +his arms on the altar, and the white disc, hovering on the brink of +non-existence, beneath his eyes.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The faintest whisper rose from behind as the people shifted their +constrained attitudes. Sir James glanced up, his eyes full of tears, at +the distant crimson figure beneath the steady row of lights, motionless +with outspread hands, poised over the bosom of God’s Love.</p> + +<p>The first murmured words broke the silence; as if next to the Infinite +Pity rose up the infinite need of man—<i>Nobis quoque peccatoribus</i>—and +sank to silence again.</p> + +<p>Then loud and clear rang out <i>Per omnia saecula saeculorum;</i> and the +choir of monks sang <i>Amen</i>.</p> + +<p>So the great mystery moved on, but upborne now by the very Presence +itself that sustained all things. From the limitless sea of mercy, the +children cried through the priest’s lips to their Father who was in +heaven, and entreated the Lamb of God who takes away sin to have mercy +on them and give them peace.</p> + +<p>Then from far beyond the screen Mary could see how the priest leaning a +little forward towards That which he bore in his hands, looked on what +he bore in them; and she whispered softly with him the words that he was +speaking. <i>Ave in aeternum sanctissima caro Christi</i> ...</p> + +<p>Again she hid her face; and when she raised it once, all was over, and +the Lord had entered and sanctified the body and soul of the man at +whose words He had entered the creature of bread.</p> + +<p>The father and daughter stood together silently in the sunshine outside +the west end of the church, waiting for Chris. He had promised to come +to them there for a moment when his thanksgiving was done.</p> + +<p>Beyond the wall, and the guest-house where the Visitors had lived those +two disastrous days, rose up the far sunlit downs, shadowed here and +there with cup-like hollows, standing like the walls about Jerusalem.</p> + +<p>As they turned, on the right above the red roofs of the town, rose the +downs again, vast slopes and shoulders, over which Chris had ridden so +short a while ago bearded and brown with hunting. It was over there that +Ralph had come, through that dip, which seemed against the skyline a +breach in a high wall.</p> + +<p>Ah! surely God would spare this place; so stately and quiet, so +graciously sheltered by the defences that He Himself had raised! If all +England tottered and fell, this at least might stand, this vast home of +prayer that stirred day and night with the praises of the Eternal and +the petitions of the mortal—this glorious house where a priest so dear +to them had brought forth from his mystical paternity the very Son of +God!</p> + +<p>The door opened behind them, and Chris came out pale and smiling with a +little anxious-eyed monk beside him. His eyes lightened as he saw them +standing there; but he turned again for a moment.</p> + +<p>“Yes—father,” he said. “What was it?”</p> + +<p>“You stayed too long,” said the other, “at the <i>famularumque tuarum</i>; +the rubric says <i>nullus nimis immoretur</i>, you know;—<i>nimis immoretur</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Chris.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_3III">CHAPTER III<br><span class="small">THE NORTHERN RISING</span></h4></div> + + +<p>A few of the smaller Religious houses had surrendered themselves to the +King before the passing of the bill in the early spring; and the rest of +them were gradually yielded up after its enactment during the summer of +the same year; and among them was Rusper. Chris heard that his sister +Margaret had returned to Overfield, and would stay there for the +present.</p> + +<p>Throughout the whole of England there were the same scenes to be +witnessed. A troop of men, headed by a Commissioner, would ride up one +evening to some village where a little convent stood, demand entrance at +the gate, pass through, and disappear from the eyes of the watching +crowd. Then the next day the work would begin; the lead would be +stripped from the church and buildings; the treasures corded in bundles; +the woodwork of the interior put up to auction on the village green; and +a few days later the troop would disappear again, heavily laden, leaving +behind roofless walls, and bewildered Religious in their new secular +dress with a few shillings in their pockets, staring after the rich +cavalcade and wondering what was best to do.</p> + +<p>It had been hoped that the King would stay his hand at the death of +Anne, and even yet return to the obedience of the Holy See. The Pope was +encouraged to think so by the authorities on the continent, and in +England itself there prevailed even confidence that a return to the old +ways would be effected. But Henry had gone too far; he had drunk too +deeply of the wealth that lay waiting for him in the treasuries of the +Religious houses, and after a pause of expectation he set his hand to +the cup again. It was but natural too, and for more noble motives, to +such a character as his. As he had aimed in his youth at nothing less +than supremacy in tennis, hunting and tourney, and later in +architecture, music and theological reputation; as, for the same reason +Wolsey had fallen, when the King looked away from girls and sports to +the fiercer game of politics; so now it was intolerable to Henry that +there should be even the shadow of a spiritual independence within his +domain.</p> + +<p>A glow of resentful disappointment swept through the North of England at +the news. It burst out into flame in Lincolnshire, and was not finally +quenched until the early summer of the following year.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The news that reached Lewes from time to time during the winter and +spring sent the hearts of all that heard it through the whole gamut of +emotions. At one time fierce hope, then despair, then rising confidence, +then again blank hopelessness—each in turn tore the souls of the monks; +and misery reached its climax in the summer at the news of the execution +at Tyburn of the Abbots of Jervaulx and Fountains, with other monks and +gentlemen.</p> + +<p>The final recital of the whole tragedy was delivered to them at the +mouth of a Religious from the Benedictine cell at Middlesborough who had +been released by the Visitors at his own request, but who had afterwards +repented and joined the rising soon after the outset; he had been +through most of the incidents, and then when failure was assured had +fled south in terror for his life, and was now on his way to the +Continent to take up his monastic vocation once more.</p> + +<p>The Prior was away on one of the journeys that he so frequently +undertook at this time, no man knew whither, or the ex-monk and rebel +would have been refused admittance; but the sub-Prior was persuaded to +take him in for a night, and he sat long in one of the parlours that +evening telling his story.</p> + +<p>Chris leaned against the wall and watched him as he talked with the +candle-light on his face. He was a stout middle-aged man in layman’s +dress, for he was not yet out of peril; he sat forward in his chair, +making preacher’s gestures as he spoke, and using well-chosen vivid +words.</p> + +<p>“They were gathered already when I joined them on their way to York; +there were nearly ten thousand of them on the road, with Aske at their +head. I have never set eyes on such a company! There was a troop of +gentlemen and their sons riding with Aske in front, all in armour; and +then the rabble behind with gentlemen again to their officers. The +common folk had pikes and hooks only; and some were in leather harness, +and some without; but they marched well and kept good order. They were +of all sorts: hairy men and boys; and miners from the North. There were +monks, too, and friars, I know not how many, that went with the army to +encourage them; and everywhere we went the women ran out of their homes +with food and drink, and prayed God to bless us; and the bells were rung +in the village churches. We slept as we could, some in houses, some in +churchyards and by the wayside, and as many of us as could get into the +churches heard mass each day. As many too as could make them, wore the +Five Wounds on a piece of stuff sewn on the arm. You would have said +that none could stand against us, so eager we were and full of faith.”</p> + +<p>“There was a song, was there not?” began one of the monks.</p> + +<p>“Yes, father. We sang it as we went.</p> + +<p class="poetry"> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">“Christ crucified!</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For thy wounds wide</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Us commons guide</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Which pilgrims be!</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Through God his grace</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For to purchase</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Old wealth and peace</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of the spiritualty!</span><br> +</p> + +<p>“You could hear it up and down the lines, sung with weeping and +shouting.”</p> + +<p>He described how they came to York, and how the Mayor was forced to +admit them. They stayed there a couple of days; and Aske published his +directions for all the ejected Religious to return to their houses.</p> + +<p>“I went to a little cell near by—I forget its name—to help some canons +to settle in again, whose friendship I had made. I had told them then +that my mind was to enter Religion once more, and they took me very +willingly. We got there at night. The roof was gone from the dormitory, +but we slept there for all that—such of us as could sleep—for I heard +one of them sobbing for joy as he lay there in his old corner under the +stars; and we sang mass in the morning, as well as we could. The priest +had an old tattered vestment that hardly hung on his shoulders; and +there was no cross but one that came from a pair of beads, and that we +hung over the altar. When I left them again, they were at their office +as before, and busy roofing the house with old timbers; for my lord +Cromwell had all the lead. And all their garden was trampled; but they +said they would do very well. The village-folk were their good friends, +and would bring them what they needed.”</p> + +<p>He described his journey to Doncaster; the furious excitement of the +villages he passed through, and the news that reached him hour after +hour as to the growing vastness of Aske’s forces.</p> + +<p>“There were thirty thousand, I heard, on the banks of the Don on one +side; for my lords Nevill and Lumley and others had ridden in with St. +Cuthbert his banner and arms, and five thousand men, besides those that +came in from all the country. And on the further side was my Lord +Shrewsbury for the King, with the Duke and his men. Master Aske had all +he could do to keep his men back from being at them. Some of the young +sparks were as terriers at a rat-hole. There was a parley held on the +bridge, for Norfolk knew well that he must gain time; and Aske sent his +demands to his Grace, and that was the mistake—”</p> + +<p>The man beat one hand into the other and looked round with a kindling +force—</p> + +<p>“That was the mistake! He was too loyal for such work, and did not guess +at their craft. Well, while we waited there, our men began to make off; +their farms were wanting them, and their wives and the rest, and we +melted. Master Aske had to be everywhere at once, it was no fault of +his. My Lord Derby was marching up upon the houses again, and seeking to +drive the monks out once more. But there was not an act of violence done +by our men; not a penny-piece taken or a house burned. They were +peaceable folk, and asked no more than that their old religion should be +given back to them, and that they might worship God as they had always +done.”</p> + +<p>He went on to explain how the time had been wasted in those fruitless +negotiations, and how the force dwindled day by day. Various answers +were attempted by the King, containing both threats and promises, and in +these, as in all else the hand of Cromwell was evident. Finally, towards +the end of November, the insurgents gathered again for another meeting +with the King’s representatives at Doncaster, summoned by beacons on the +top of the high Yorkshire moors, and by the reversed pealing of the +church bells.</p> + +<p>“We had a parley among ourselves at Pomfret first, and had a great +to-do, though I saw little of it; and drew up our demands; and then set +out for Doncaster again. The duke was there, with the King’s pardon in +his hand, in the Whitefriars; and a promise that all should be as we +asked. So we went back to Pomfret, well-pleased, and the next day on St. +Thomas’ hill the herald read the pardon to us all; and we, poor fools, +thought that his Grace meant to keep his word—”</p> + +<p>The monk looked bitterly round, sneering with his white strong teeth set +together like a savage dog’s; and there was silence for a moment. The +Sub-Prior looked nervously round the faces of his subjects, for this was +treasonable talk to hear.</p> + +<p>Then the man went on. He himself it seemed had retired again to the +little cell where he had seen the canons settled in a few weeks +previously; and heard nothing of what was going forward; except that the +heralds were going about the country, publishing the King’s pardon to +all who had taken part in the Rebellion, and affixing it to the +market-cross in each town and village, with touching messages from the +King relating to the grief which he had felt on hearing that his dear +children believed such tales about him.</p> + +<p>Little by little, however, the discontent began to smoulder once more, +for the King’s pledges of restoration were not fulfilled; and Cromwell, +who was now recognised to be the inspirer of all the evil done against +Religion, remained as high as ever in the royal favour. Aske, who had +been to the King in person, and given him an account of all that had +taken place, now wrote to him that there was a danger of a further +rising if the delay continued, for there were no signs yet of the +promised free parliament being called at York.</p> + +<p>Then again disturbances had broken out.</p> + +<p>“I was at Hull,” said the monk, “with Sir Francis Bygod in January; but +we did nothing, and only lost our leader, and all the while Norfolk was +creeping up with his army. It was piteous to think what might not have +been done if we had not trusted his Grace; but ’twas no good, and I was +back again in the dales here and there, hiding for my life by April. +Everywhere ’twas the same; the monks were haled out again from their +houses, and men were hanged by the score. I cut down four myself near +Meux, and gave them Christian burial at night. One was a monk, and +hanged in his habit. But the worst of all was at York.”</p> + +<p>The man’s face twitched with emotion, and he passed his hand over his +mouth once or twice before continuing.</p> + +<p>“I did not dare to go into the court for fear I should be known; but I +stood outside in the crowd and watched them go in. There was a fellow +riding with Norfolk—a false knave of a man whom we had all learnt to +hate at Doncaster—for he was always jeering at us secretly and making +mischief when he could. I saw him with the duke before, when we went +into the Whitefriars for the pardon; and he stood there behind with the +look of a devil on his face; and now here he was again—”</p> + +<p>“His name, sir?” put in Dom Adrian.</p> + +<p>“Torridon, father, Torridon! He was a—”</p> + +<p>There was a sharp movement in the room, so that the monk stopped and +looked round him amazed. Chris felt the blood ebb from his heart and din +in his ears, and he swayed a little as he leaned against the wall. He +saw Dom Anthony lean forward and whisper to the stranger; and through +the haze that was before his eyes saw the other look at him sharply, +with a fallen jaw.</p> + +<p>Then the monk rose and made a little stiff inclination to Chris, +deferential and courteous, but with a kind of determined dignity in it +too.</p> + +<p>When Chris had recovered himself, the monk was deep in his story, but +Ralph had fallen out of it.</p> + +<p>“You would not believe it,” he was saying, “but on the very jury that +was to try Master Aske and Constable, there were empanelled their own +blood-relations; and that by the express intention of Norfolk. John Aske +was one of them, and some others who had to wives the sons of my Lord +Darcy and Sir Robert Constable. You see how it would be. If the +prisoners were found guilty, men would say that it must be so, for that +their own kin had condemned them; and if they were to be acquitted, then +these men themselves would be cast.”</p> + +<p>There again broke out a murmur from the listening faces, as the man +paused.</p> + +<p>“Well, they were cast, as you know, for not taking the King to be the +supreme head of the Church, and for endeavouring to force the King to +hold a parliament that he willed not. And I was at York again when +Master Aske was brought back from London to be hanged, and I saw it!”</p> + +<p>Again an uncontrollable emotion shook him; and he propped his face on +his hand as he ended his tale.</p> + +<p>“There were many of his friends there in the crowd, and scarcely one +dared to cry out, God save you, sir.... I dared not....”</p> + +<p>He gave one rending sob, and Chris felt his eyes prick with tears at the +sight of so much sorrow. It was piteous to see a brave man thinking +himself a coward.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony leaned forward.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, father,” he said, though his voice was a little husky, “and +thank God that he died well. You have touched all our hearts.”</p> + +<p>“I was a hound,” sobbed the man, “a hound, that I did not cry out to him +and tell him that I loved him.”</p> + +<p>“No, no, father,” said the other tenderly, “you must not think so. You +must serve God well now, and pray for his soul.”</p> + +<p>The bell sounded out for Compline as he spoke, and the monks rose.</p> + +<p>“You will come into choir, father,” said the Sub-Prior.</p> + +<p>The man nodded, stood up, and followed him out.</p> + +<p>Chris was in a strange ferment as he stood in his stall that night. It +had been sad enough to hear of that gallant attempt to win back the old +liberties and the old Faith—that attempt that had been a success except +for the insurgents’ trust in their King—and of the death of the +leaders.</p> + +<p>But across the misery had pierced a more poignant grief, as he had +learnt how Ralph’s hand was in this too and had taken once more the +wrong side in God’s quarrel. But still he had no resentment; the +conflict had passed out of the personal plane into an higher, and he +thought of his brother as God’s enemy rather than his own. Would his +prayers then never prevail—the prayers that he speeded up in the smoke +of the great Sacrifice morning by morning for that zealous mistaken +soul? Or was it perhaps that that brother of his must go deeper yet, +before coming out to knowledge and pardon?</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_3IV">CHAPTER IV<br><span class="small">THE DESTRUCTION OF THE SEAL</span></h4></div> + + +<p>The autumn drew in swiftly. The wet south-west wind blew over the downs +that lay between Lewes and the sea, and beat down the loose browning +leaves of the trees about the Priory. The grass in the cloister-garth +grew rank and dark with the constant rain that drove and dropped over +the high roofs.</p> + +<p>And meanwhile the tidings grew heavier still.</p> + +<p>After Michaelmas the King set to work in earnest. He had been checked by +the northern risings, and still paused to see whether the embers had +been wholly quenched; and then when it was evident that the North was as +submissive as the South, began again his business of gathering in the +wealth that was waiting.</p> + +<p>He started first in the North, under show of inflicting punishment for +the encouragement that the Religious had given to the late rebellions; +and one by one the great abbeys were tottering. Furness and Sawley had +already fallen, with Jervaulx and the other houses, and Holme Cultram +was placed under the care of a superior who could be trusted to hand +over his charge when called upon.</p> + +<p>But up to the present not many great houses had actually fallen, except +those which were supposed to have taken a share in the revolt; and owing +to the pains taken by the Visitors to contradict the report that the +King intended to lay his hands on the whole monastic property of +England, it was even hoped by a few sanguine souls that the large +houses might yet survive.</p> + +<p>There were hot discussions in the chapter at Lewes from time to time +during the year. The “Bishops’ Book,” issued by a committee of divines +and approved by the King, and containing a digest of the new Faith that +was being promulgated, arrived during the summer and was fiercely +debated; but so high ran the feeling that the Prior dropped the matter, +and the book was put away with other papers of the kind on an honourable +but little-used shelf.</p> + +<p>The acrimony in domestic affairs began to reach its climax in October, +when the prospects of the Priory’s own policy came up for discussion.</p> + +<p>Some maintained that they were safe, and that quietness and confidence +were their best security, and these had the support of the Prior; others +declared that the best hope lay in selling the possessions of the house +at a low price to some trustworthy man who would undertake to sell them +back again at only a small profit to himself when the storm was passed.</p> + +<p>The Prior rose in wrath when this suggestion was made.</p> + +<p>“Would you have me betray my King?” he cried. “I tell you I will have +none of it. It is not worthy of a monk to have such thoughts.”</p> + +<p>And he sat down and would hear no more, nor speak.</p> + +<p>There were whispered conferences after that among the others, as to what +his words meant. Surely there was nothing dishonourable in the device; +they only sought to save what was their own! And how would the King be +“betrayed” by such an action?</p> + +<p>They had an answer a fortnight later; and it took them wholly by +surprise.</p> + +<p>During the second week in November the Prior had held himself more +aloof than ever; only three or four of the monks, with the Sub-Prior +among them, were admitted to his cell, and they were there at all hours. +Two or three strangers too arrived on horseback, and were entertained by +the Prior in a private parlour. And then on the morning of the +fourteenth the explanation came.</p> + +<p>When the usual business of the chapter was done, the faults confessed +and penances given, and one or two small matters settled, the Prior, +instead of rising to give the signal to go, remained in his chair, his +head bent on to his hand.</p> + +<p>It was a dark morning, heavy and lowering; and from where Chris sat at +the lower end of the great chamber he could scarcely make out the +features of those who sat under the high window at the east; but as soon +as the Prior lifted his face and spoke, he knew by that tense strain of +the voice that something impended.</p> + +<p>“There is another matter,” said the Prior; and paused again.</p> + +<p>For a moment there was complete silence. The Sub-Prior leant a little +forward and was on the point of speaking, when his superior lifted his +head again and straightened himself in his chair.</p> + +<p>“It is this,” he said, and his voice rang hard and defiant, “it is this. +It is useless to think we can save ourselves. We are under suspicion, +and worse than suspicion. I have hoped, and prayed, and striven to know +God’s will; and I have talked with my Lord Cromwell not once or twice, +but often. And it is useless to resist any further.”</p> + +<p>His voice cracked with misery; but Chris saw him grip the bosses of his +chair-arms in an effort for self-control. His own heart began to sicken; +this was not frightened raving such as he had listened to before; it was +the speech of one who had been driven into decision, as a rat into a +corner.</p> + +<p>“I have talked with the Sub-Prior, and others; and they think with me in +this. I have kept it back from the rest, that they might serve God in +peace so long as was possible. But now I must tell you all, my sons, +that we must leave this place.”</p> + +<p>There was a hush of terrible tension. The monks had known that they were +threatened; they could not think otherwise with the news that came from +all parts, but they had not known that catastrophe was so imminent. An +old monk opposite Chris began to moan and mutter; but the Prior went on +immediately.</p> + +<p>“At least I think that we must leave. It may be otherwise, if God has +pity on us; I do not know; but we must be ready to leave, if it be His +will, and,—and to say so.”</p> + +<p>He was speaking in abrupt sentences, with pauses between, in which he +appeared to summon his resolution to speak again, and force out his +tale. There was plainly more behind too; and his ill-ease seemed to +deepen on him.</p> + +<p>“I wish no one to speak now,” he said. “Instead of the Lady-mass +to-morrow we shall sing mass of the Holy Ghost, and afterwards I shall +have more to say to you again. I do not desire any to hold speech with +any other, but to look into their own hearts and seek counsel of God +there.”</p> + +<p>He still sat a moment silent, then rose and gave the signal.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was a strange day for Chris. He did not know what to think, but he +was certain that they had not yet been told all. The Prior’s silences +had been as pregnant as his words. There was something very close now +that would be revealed immediately, and meanwhile he must think out how +to meet it.</p> + +<p>The atmosphere seemed charged all day; the very buildings wore a strange +air, unfamiliar and menacing. The intimate bond between his soul and +them, knit by associations of prayer and effort, appeared unreal and +flimsy. He was tormented by doubtfulness; he could not understand on the +one side how it was possible to yield to the King, on the other how it +was possible to resist. No final decision could be made by him until he +had heard the minds of his fellows; and fortunately they would all speak +before him. He busied himself then with disentangling the strands of +motive, desire, fear and hope, and waited for the shaking loose of the +knot until he knew more.</p> + +<p>Mass of the Holy Ghost was sung next morning by the Prior himself in red +vestments; and Chris waited with expectant awe, remembering how the +Carthusians under like circumstances had been visited by God; but the +Host was uplifted and the bell rang; and there was nothing but the +candle-lit gloom of the choir about the altar, and the sigh of the wind +in the chapels behind.</p> + +<p>Then in the chapter-meeting the Prior told them all.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He reminded them how they had prayed that morning for guidance, and that +they must be fearless now in following it out. It was easy to be +reckless and call it faith, but prudence and reasonable common-sense +were attributes of the Christian no less than trust in God. They had not +to consider now what they would wish for themselves, but what God +intended for them so far as they could read it in the signs of the +times.</p> + +<p>“For myself,” he cried,—and Chris almost thought him sincere as he +spoke, so kindled was his face—“for myself I should ask no more than +to live and die in this place, as I had hoped. Every stone here is as +dear to me as to you, and I think more dear, for I have been in a +special sense the lord of it all; but I dare not think of that. We must +be ready to leave all willingly if God wills. We thought that we had +yielded all to follow Christ when we first set our necks here under His +sweet yoke; but I think He asks of us even more now; and that we should +go out from here even as we went out from our homes ten or twenty years +ago. We shall be no further from our God outside this place; and we may +be even nearer if we go out according to His will.”</p> + +<p>He seemed on fire with zeal and truth. His timid peevish air was gone, +and his delicate scholarly face was flushed as he spoke. Chris was +astonished, and more perplexed than ever. Was it then possible that +God’s will might lie in the direction he feared?</p> + +<p>“Now this is the matter which we have to consider,” went on the Prior +more quietly. “His Grace has sent to ask, through a private messenger +from my Lord Cromwell, whether we will yield up the priory. There is no +compulsion in the matter—” he paused significantly—“and his Grace +desires each to act according to his judgment and conscience, of—of his +own free will.”</p> + +<p>There was a dead silence.</p> + +<p>The news was almost expected by now. Through the months of anxiety each +monk had faced the probability of such tidings coming to him sooner or +later; and the last few days had brought expectation to its climax. Yet +it was hard to see the enemy face to face, and to know that there was no +possibility of resisting him finally.</p> + +<p>The Sub-Prior rose to his feet and began to speak, glancing as if for +corroboration to his superior from time to time. His mouth worked a +little at the close of each sentence.</p> + +<p>“My Lord Prior has shown us his own mind, and I am with him in the +matter. His Grace treats us like his own children; he wishes us to be +loving and obedient. But, as a father too, he has authority behind to +compel us to his will if we will not submit. And, as my Lord Prior said +yesterday, we do not know whether or no his Grace will not permit us to +remain here after all, if we are docile; or perhaps refound the priory +out of his own bounty. There is talk of the Chertsey monks going to the +London Charterhouse from Bisham where the King set them last year. But +we may be sure he will not do so with us if we resist his will now. I on +my part then am in favour of yielding up the house willingly, and +trusting ourselves to his Grace’s clemency.”</p> + +<p>There was again silence as he sat down; and a pause of a minute or two +before Dom Anthony rose. His ruddy face was troubled and perplexed; but +he spoke resolutely enough.</p> + +<p>He said that he could not understand why the matter had not been laid +before them earlier, that they might have had time to consider it. The +question was an extremely difficult one to the consciences of some of +them. On the one hand there was the peril of acquiescing in +sacrilege—the Prior twisted in his seat as he heard this—and on the +other of wilfully and petulantly throwing away their only opportunity of +saving their priory. He asked for time.</p> + +<p>Several more made speeches, some in favour of the proposal, and some +asking, as Dom Anthony had done, for further time for consideration. +They had no precedents, they said, on which to decide such a question, +for they understood that it was not on account of treason that they +were required to surrender the house and property.</p> + +<p>The Prior rose with a white face.</p> + +<p>“No, no,” he cried. “God forbid! That is over and done with. I—we have +made our peace with my Lord Cromwell in that affair.”</p> + +<p>“Then why,” asked Dom Anthony, “are we required to yield it?”</p> + +<p>The Prior glanced helplessly at him.</p> + +<p>“I—it is as a sign that the King is temporal lord of the land.”</p> + +<p>“We do not deny that,” said the other.</p> + +<p>“Some do,” said the Prior feebly.</p> + +<p>There was a little more discussion. Dom Anthony remarked that it was not +a matter of temporal but spiritual headship that was in question. To +meddle with the Religious Orders was to meddle with the Vicar of Christ +under whose special protection they were; and it seemed to him at least +a probable opinion, so far as he had had time to consider it, that to +yield, even in the hopes of saving their property ultimately, was to +acquiesce in the repudiation of the authority of Rome.</p> + +<p>And so it went on for an hour; and then as it grew late, the Prior rose +once more, and asked if any one had a word to say who had not yet +spoken.</p> + +<p>Chris had intended to speak, but all that he wished to ask had already +been stated by others; and he sat now silent, staring up at the Prior, +and down at the smooth boarded floor at his feet. He had not an idea +what to do. He was no theologian.</p> + +<p>Then the Prior unmasked his last gun.</p> + +<p>“As regards the matter of time for consideration, that is now passed. In +spite of what some have said we have had sufficient warning. All here +must have known that the choice would be laid before them, for months +past; it is now an answer that is required of us.”</p> + +<p>He paused a moment longer. His lips began to tremble, but he made a +strong effort and finished.</p> + +<p>“Master Petre will be here to-night, as my lord Cromwell’s +representative, and will sit in the chapter-house to-morrow to receive +the surrender.”</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony started to his feet. The Prior made a violent gesture for +silence, and then gave the signal to break up.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Again the bewildering day went past. The very discipline of the house +was a weakness in the defence of the surprised party. It was impossible +for them to meet and discuss the situation as they wished; and even the +small times of leisure seemed unusually occupied. Dom Anthony was busy +at the guest-house; one of the others who had spoken against the +proposal was sent off on a message by the Prior, and another was ordered +to assist the sacristan to clean the treasures in view of the Visitor’s +coming.</p> + +<p>Chris was not able to ask a word of advice from any of those whom he +thought to be in sympathy with him.</p> + +<p>He sat all day over his antiphonary, in the little carrel off the +cloister, and as he worked his mind toiled like a mill.</p> + +<p>He had progressed a long way with the work now, and was engaged on the +pages that contained the antiphons for Lent. The design was soberer +here; the angels that had rested among the green branches and early +roses of Septuagesima, thrusting here a trumpet and there a harp among +the leaves, had taken flight, and grave menacing creatures were in their +place. A jackal looked from behind the leafless trunk, a lion lifted +his toothed mouth to roar from a thicket of thorns, as they had lurked +and bellowed in the bleak wilderness above the Jordan fifteen hundred +years ago. They were gravely significant now, he thought; and scarcely +knowing what he did he set narrow human eyes in the lion’s face (for he +knew no better) and broadened the hanging jaws with a delicate line or +two.</p> + +<p>Then with a fierce impulse he crowned him, and surmounted the crown with +a cross.</p> + +<p>And all the while his mind toiled at the problem. There were three +things open to him on the morrow. Either he might refuse to sign the +surrender, and take whatever consequences might follow; or he might sign +it; and there were two processes of thought by which he might take that +action. By the first he would simply make an act of faith in his +superiors, and do what they did because they did it; by the second he +would sign it of his own responsibility because he decided to think that +by doing so he would be taking the best action for securing his own +monastic life.</p> + +<p>He considered these three. To refuse to sign almost inevitably involved +his ruin, and that not only, and not necessarily, in the worldly +sense; about that he sincerely believed he did not care; but it would +mean his exclusion from any concession that the King might afterwards +make. He certainly would not be allowed, under any circumstances, +to remain in the home of his profession; and if the community was +shifted he would not be allowed to go with them. As regards the second +alternative he wondered whether it was possible to shift responsibility +in that manner; as regards the third, he knew that he had very little +capability in any case of foreseeing the course that events would take.</p> + +<p>Then he turned it all over again, and considered the arguments for +each course. His superiors were set over him by God; it was rash to +set himself against them except in matters of the plainest conscience. +Again it was cowardly to shelter himself behind this plea and so avoid +responsibility. Lastly, he was bound to judge for himself.</p> + +<p>The arguments twisted and turned as bewilderingly as the twining +branches of his design; and behind each by which he might climb to +decision lurked a beast. He felt helpless and dazed by the storm of +conflicting motives.</p> + +<p>As he bent over his work he prayed for light, but the question seemed +more tangled than before; the hours were creeping in; by to-morrow he +must decide.</p> + +<p>Then the memory of the Prior’s advice to him once before came back to +his mind; this was the kind of thing, he told himself, that he must +leave to God, his own judgment was too coarse an instrument; he must +wait for a clear supernatural impulse; and as he thought of it he laid +his pencil down, dropped on to his knees, and commended it all to God, +to the Mother of God, St. Pancras, St. Peter and St. Paul. Even as he +did it, the burden lifted and he knew that he would know, when the time +came.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Dr. Petre came that night, but Chris saw no more of him than his back as +he went up the cloister with Dom Anthony to the Prior’s chamber. The +Prior was not at supper, and his seat was empty in the dim refectory.</p> + +<p>Neither was he at Compline; and it was with the knowledge that +Cromwell’s man and their own Superior were together in conference, that +the monks went up the dormitory stairs that night.</p> + +<p>But he was in his place at the chapter-mass next morning, though he +spoke to no one, and disappeared immediately afterwards.</p> + +<p>Then at the appointed time the monks assembled in the chapter-house.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>As Chris came in he lifted his eyes, and saw that the room was arrayed +much as it had been at the visit of Dr. Layton and Ralph. A great table, +heaped with books and papers, stood at the upper end immediately below +the dais, and a couple of secretaries were there, sharp-looking men, +seated at either end and busy with documents.</p> + +<p>The Prior was in his place in the shadow and was leaning over and +talking to a man who sat beside him. Chris could make out little of the +latter except that he seemed to be a sort of lawyer or clerk, and was +dressed in a dark gown and cap. He was turning over the leaves of a book +as the Prior talked, and nodded his head assentingly from time to time.</p> + +<p>When all the monks were seated, there was still a pause. It was +strangely unlike the scene of a tragedy, there in that dark grave room +with the quiet faces downcast round the walls, and the hands hidden in +the cowl-sleeves. And even on the deeper plane it all seemed very +correct and legal. There was the representative of the King, a capable +learned man, with all the indications of law and order round him, and +his two secretaries to endorse or check his actions. There too was the +Community, gathered to do business in the manner prescribed by the Rule, +with the deeds of foundation before their eyes, and the great brass +convent seal on the table. There was not a hint of bullying or +compulsion; these monks were asked merely to sign a paper if they so +desired it. Each was to act for himself; there was to be no over-riding +of individual privileges, or signing away another’s conscience.</p> + +<p>Nothing could have been arranged more peaceably.</p> + +<p>And yet to every man’s mind that was present the sedate room was black +with horror. The majesty and terror of the King’s will brooded in the +air; nameless dangers looked in at the high windows and into every man’s +face; the quiet lawyer-like men were ministers of fearful vengeance; the +very pens, ink and paper that lay there so innocently were sacraments of +death or life.</p> + +<p>The Prior ceased his whispering presently, glanced round to see if all +were in their places, and then stood up.</p> + +<p>His voice was perfectly natural as he told them that this was Dr. Petre, +come down from Lord Cromwell to offer them an opportunity of showing +their trust and love towards their King by surrendering to his +discretion the buildings and property that they held. No man was to be +compelled to sign; it must be perfectly voluntary on their part; his +Grace wished to force no conscience to do that which it repudiated. For +his own part, he said, he was going to sign with a glad heart. The King +had shown his clemency in a hundred ways, and to that clemency he +trusted.</p> + +<p>Then he sat down; and Chris marvelled at his self-control.</p> + +<p>Dr. Petre stood up, and looked round for a moment before opening his +mouth; then he put his two hands on the table before him, dropped his +eyes and began his speech.</p> + +<p>He endorsed first what the Prior had said, and congratulated all there +on possessing such a superior. It was a great happiness, he said, to +deal with men who showed themselves so reasonable and so loyal. Some he +had had to do with had not been so—and—and of course their +stubbornness had brought its own penalty. But of that he did not wish +to speak. On the other hand those who had shown themselves true +subjects of his Grace had already found their reward. He had great +pleasure in announcing to them that what the Prior had said to them a +day or two before was true; and that their brethren in religion of +Chertsey Abbey, who had been moved to Bisham last year, were to go to +the London Charterhouse in less than a month. The papers were made out; +he had assisted in their drawing up.</p> + +<p>He spoke in a quiet restrained voice, and with an appearance of great +deference; there was not the shadow of a bluster even when he referred +to the penalties of stubbornness; it was very unlike the hot bullying +arrogance of Dr. Layton. Then he ended—</p> + +<p>“And so, reverend fathers, the choice is in your hands. His Grace will +use no compulsion. You will hear presently that the terms of surrender +are explicit in that point. He will not force one man to sign who is not +convinced that he can best serve his King and himself by doing so. It +would go sorely against his heart if he thought that he had been the +means of making the lowest of his subjects to act contrary to the +conscience that God has given him. My Lord Prior, I will beg of you to +read the terms of surrender.”</p> + +<p>The paper was read, and it was as it had been described. Again and again +it was repeated in various phrases that the property was yielded of +free-will. It was impossible to find in it even the hint of a threat. +The properties in question were enumerated in the minutest manner, and +the list included all the rights of the priory over the Cluniac cell of +Castleacre.</p> + +<p>The Prior laid the paper down, and looked at Dr. Petre.</p> + +<p>The Commissioner rose from his seat, taking the paper as he did so, and +so stood a moment.</p> + +<p>“You see, reverend fathers, that it is as I told you. I understand that +you have already considered the matter, so that there is no more to be +said.”</p> + +<p>He stepped down from the dais and passed round to the further side of +the table. One of the secretaries pushed an ink-horn and a couple of +quills across to him.</p> + +<p>“My Lord Prior,” said Dr. Petre, with a slight bow. “If you are willing +to sign this, I will beg of you to do so; and after that to call up your +subjects.”</p> + +<p>He laid the paper down. The Prior stepped briskly out of his seat, and +passed round the table.</p> + +<p>Chris watched his back, the thin lawyer beside him indicating the place +for the name; and listened as in a dream to the scratching of the pen. +He himself still did not know what he would do. If all signed—?</p> + +<p>The Prior stepped back, and Chris caught a glimpse of a white face that +smiled terribly.</p> + +<p>The Sub-Prior stepped down at a sign from his Superior; and then one by +one the monks came out.</p> + +<p>Chris’s heart sickened as he watched; and then stood still on a sudden +in desperate hope, for opposite to him Dom Anthony sat steady, his head +on his hand, and made no movement when it was his turn to come out. +Chris saw the Prior look at the monk, and a spasm of emotion went over +his face.</p> + +<p>“Dom Anthony,” he said.</p> + +<p>The monk lifted his face, and it was smiling too.</p> + +<p>“I cannot sign, My Lord Prior.”</p> + +<p>Then the veils fell, and decision flashed on Chris’ soul.</p> + +<p>He heard the pulse drumming in his ears, and his wet hands slipped one +in the other as he gripped them together, but he made no sign till all +the others had gone up. Then he looked up at the Prior.</p> + +<p>It seemed an eternity before the Prior looked at him and nodded; and he +could make no answering sign.</p> + +<p>Then he heard his name called, and with a great effort he answered; his +voice seemed not his own in his ears. He repeated Dom Anthony’s words.</p> + +<p>“I cannot sign, My Lord Prior.”</p> + +<p>Then he sat back with closed eyes and waited.</p> + +<p>He heard movements about him, steps, the crackle of parchment, and at +last Dr. Petre’s voice; but he scarcely understood what was said. There +was but one thought dinning in his brain, and that was that he had +refused, and thrown his defiance down before the King—that terrible man +whom he had seen in his barge on the river, with the narrow eyes, the +pursed mouth and the great jowl, as he sat by the woman he called his +wife—that woman who now—</p> + +<p>Chris shivered, opened his eyes, and sense came back.</p> + +<p>Dr. Petre was just ending his speech. He was congratulating the +Community on their reasonableness and loyalty. By an overwhelming +majority they had decided to trust the King, and they would not find his +grace unmindful of that. As for those who had not signed he could say +nothing but that they had used the liberty that his Grace had given +them. Whether they had used it rightly was no business of his.</p> + +<p>Then he turned to the Prior.</p> + +<p>“The seal then, My Lord Prior. I think that is the next matter.”</p> + +<p>The Prior rose and lifted it from the table. Chris caught the gleam of +the brass and silver of the ponderous precious thing in his hand—the +symbol of their corporate existence—engraved, as he knew, with the four +patrons of the house, the cliff, the running water of the Ouse, and the +rhyming prayer to St. Pancras.</p> + +<p>The Prior handed it to the Commissioner, who took it, and stood there a +moment weighing it in his hand.</p> + +<p>“A hammer,” he said.</p> + +<p>One of the secretaries rose, and drew from beneath the table a sheet of +metal and a sharp hammer; he handed both to Dr. Petre.</p> + +<p>Chris watched, fascinated with something very like terror, his throat +contracted in a sudden spasm, as he saw the Commissioner place the metal +in the solid table before him, and then, holding the seal sideways, lift +the hammer in his right hand.</p> + +<p>Then blow after blow began to echo in the rafters overhead.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_3V">CHAPTER V<br><span class="small">THE SINKING SHIP</span></h4></div> + + +<p>Dr. Petre had come and gone, and to all appearance the priory was as +before. He had not taken a jewel or a fragment of stuff; he had +congratulated the sacristan on the beauty and order of his treasures, +and had bidden him guard them carefully, for that there were knaves +abroad who professed themselves as authorised by the King to seize +monastic possessions, which they sold for their own profit. The offices +continued to be sung day and night, and the masses every morning; and +the poor were fed regularly at the gate.</p> + +<p>But across the corporate life had passed a subtle change, analogous to +that which comes to the body of a man. Legal death had taken place +already; the unity of life and consciousness existed no more; the seal +was defaced; they could no longer sign a document except as individuals. +Now the <i>rigor mortis</i> would set in little by little until somatic death +too had been consummated, and the units which had made up the organism +had ceased to bear any relation one to the other.</p> + +<p>But until after Christmas there was no further development; and the +Feast was observed as usual, and with the full complement of monks. At +the midnight mass there was a larger congregation than for many months, +and the confessions and communions also slightly increased. It was a +symptom, as Chris very plainly perceived, of the manner in which the +shadow of the King reached even to the remotest details of the life of +the country. The priory was now, as it were, enveloped in the royal +protection, and the people responded accordingly.</p> + +<p>There had come no hint from headquarters as to the ultimate fate of the +house; and some even began to hope that the half-promise of a +re-foundation would be fulfilled. Neither had any mark of disapproval +arrived as to the refusal to sign on the part of the two monks; but +although nothing further was said in conversation or at chapter, there +was a consciousness in the minds of both Dom Anthony and Chris that a +wall had arisen between them and the rest. Talk in the cloister was apt +to flag when either approached; and the Prior never spoke a word to them +beyond what was absolutely necessary.</p> + +<p>Then, about the middle of January the last process began to be enacted.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>One morning the Prior’s place in church was empty.</p> + +<p>He was accustomed to disappear silently, and no astonishment was caused +on this occasion; but at Compline the same night the Sub-Prior too was +gone.</p> + +<p>This was an unheard-of state of things, but all except the guest-master +and Chris seemed to take it as a matter of course; and no word was +spoken.</p> + +<p>After the chapter on the next morning Dom Anthony made a sign to Chris +as he passed him in the cloister, and the two went out together into the +clear morning-sunshine of the outer court.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony glanced behind him to see that no one was following, and +then turned to the other.</p> + +<p>“They are both gone,” he said, “and others are going. Dom Bernard is +getting his things together. I saw them under his bed last night.”</p> + +<p>Chris stared at him, mute and terrified.</p> + +<p>“What are we to do, Dom Anthony?”</p> + +<p>“We can do nothing. We must stay. Remember that we are the only two who +have any rights here now, before God.”</p> + +<p>There was silence a moment. Chris glanced at the other, and was +reassured by the steady look on his ruddy face.</p> + +<p>“I will stay, Dom Anthony,” he said softly.</p> + +<p>The other looked at him tenderly.</p> + +<p>“God bless you, brother!” he said.</p> + +<p>That night Dom Bernard and another were gone. And still the others made +no sign or comment; and it was not until yet another pair had gone that +Dom Anthony spoke plainly.</p> + +<p>He was now the senior monk in the house; and it was his place to direct +the business of the chapter. When the formal proceedings were over he +stood up fearlessly.</p> + +<p>“You cannot hide it longer,” he said. “I have known for some while what +was impending.” He glanced round at the empty stalls, and his face +flushed with sudden anger: “For God’s sake, get you gone, you who mean +to go; and let us who are steadfast serve our Lord in peace.”</p> + +<p>Chris looked along the few faces that were left; but they were downcast +and sedate, and showed no sign of emotion.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony waited a moment longer, and then gave the signal to depart. +By a week later the two were left alone.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was very strange to be there, in the vast house and church, and to +live the old life now stripped of three-fourths of its meaning; but they +did not allow one detail to suffer that it was possible to preserve. The +<i>opus Dei</i> was punctually done, and God was served in psalmody. At the +proper hours the two priests met in the cloister, cowled and in their +choir-shoes, and walked through to the empty stalls; and there, one on +either side, each answered the other, bowed together at the <i>Gloria</i>, +confessed and absolved alternately. Two masses were said each day in the +huge lonely church, one at the high altar and the other at our Lady’s, +and each monk served the other. In the refectory one read from the +pulpit as the other sat at the table; and the usual forms were observed +with the minutest care. In the chapter each morning they met for mutual +confession and accusation; and in the times between the exercises and +meals each worked feverishly at the details that alone made the life +possible.</p> + +<p>They were assisted in this by two paid servants, who were sent to them +by Chris’s father, for both the lay-brothers and the servants had gone +with the rest; and the treasurer had disappeared with the money.</p> + +<p>Chris had written to Sir James the day that the last monk had gone, +telling him the state of affairs, and how the larder was almost empty; +and by the next evening the servants had arrived with money and +provisions; and a letter from Sir James written from a sick-bed, saying +that he was unable to come for the present, for he had taken the fever, +and that Morris would not leave him, but expressing a hope that he would +come soon in person, and that Morris should be sent in a few days. The +latter ended with passionate approval of his son’s action.</p> + +<p>“God bless and reward you, dear lad!” he had written. “I cannot tell you +the joy that it is to my heart to know that you are faithful. It cannot +be for long; but whether it is for long and short, you shall have my +prayers and blessings; and please God, my poor presence too after a few +days. May our Lady and your holy patron intercede for you both who are +so worthy of their protection!”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>At the end of the second week in March Mr. Morris arrived.</p> + +<p>Chris was taking the air in the court shortly before sunset, after a +hard day’s work in church. The land was beginning to stir with the +resurrection-life of spring; and the hills set round the town had that +faint flush of indescribable colour that tinges slopes of grass as the +sleeping sap begins to stir. The elm-trees in the court were hazy with +growth as the buds fattened at the end of every twig, and a group of +daffodils here and there were beginning to burst their sheaths of gold. +There on the little lawn before the guest-house were half a dozen white +and lavender patches of colour that showed where the crocuses would star +the grass presently; and from the high west front of the immense church, +and from beneath the eaves of the offices to the right the birds were +practising the snatches of song that would break out with full melody a +month or two later.</p> + +<p>In spite of all that threatened, Chris was in an ecstasy of happiness. +It rushed down on him, overwhelmed and enveloped him; for he knew now +that he had been faithful. The flood of praise in the church had +dwindled to a thread; but it was still the <i>opus Dei</i>, though it flowed +but from two hearts; and the pulse of the heavenly sacrifice still +throbbed morning by morning, and the Divine Presence still burned as +unceasingly as the lamp that beaconed it, in the church that was now all +but empty of its ministers. There were times when the joy that was in +his heart trembled into tears, as when last night he and his friend had +sung the song to Mary; and the contrast between the two poor voices, +and the roar of petition that had filled the great vaulting a year +before, had suddenly torn his heart in two.</p> + +<p>But now the poignant sorrow had gone again; and as he walked here alone +on this March evening, with the steady hills about him and the flushing +sky overhead, and the sweet life quickening in the grass at his feet, an +extraordinary peace flooded his soul.</p> + +<p>There came a knocking at the gate, and the jangle of a bell; and he went +across quickly and unbarred the door.</p> + +<p>Mr. Morris was there on horseback, a couple of saddlebags strapped to +his beast; and a little group of loungers stood behind.</p> + +<p>Chris smiled with delight, and threw the door wide.</p> + +<p>The servant saluted him and then turned to the group behind.</p> + +<p>“You have no authority,” he said, “as to my going in.”</p> + +<p>Then he rode through; and Chris barred the gate behind him, glancing as +he did so at the curious faces that stared silently.</p> + +<p>Mr. Morris said nothing till he had led his horse into the stable. Then +he explained.</p> + +<p>“One of the fellows told me, sir, that this was the King’s house now; +and that I had no business here.”</p> + +<p>Chris smiled again.</p> + +<p>“I know we are watched,” he said, “the servants are questioned each time +they set foot outside.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Morris pursed his lips.</p> + +<p>“How long shall you be here, sir?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Until we are turned out,” said Chris.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was true, as he had said, that the house was watched. Ever since the +last monk had left there had been a man or two at the gate, another +outside the church-door that opened towards the town; and another yet +again beyond the stream to the south of the priory-buildings. Dom +Anthony had told him what it meant. It was that the authorities had no +objection to the two monks keeping the place until it could be dealt +with, but were determined that nothing should pass out. It had not been +worthwhile to send in a caretaker, for all the valuables had been +removed either by the Visitors or by the Prior when he went at night. +There were only two sets of second-best altar vessels left, and a few +other comparatively worthless utensils for the use of the church and +kitchen. The great relics and the jewelled treasures had gone long +before. Chris had wondered a little at the house being disregarded for +so long; but the other monk had reminded him that such things as lead +and brass and bells were beyond the power of two men to move, and could +keep very well until other more pressing business had been despatched +elsewhere.</p> + +<p>Mr. Morris gave him news of his father. It had not been the true fever +after all, and he would soon be here; in at any rate a week or two. As +regarded other news, there was no tidings of Mr. Ralph except that he +was very busy. Mistress Margaret was at home; no notice seemed to have +been taken of her when she had been turned out with the rest at the +dissolution of her convent.</p> + +<p>It was very pleasant to see that familiar face about the cloister and +refectory; or now and again, when work was done, looking up from beyond +the screen as the monks came in by the sacristy door. Once or twice on +dark evenings when terror began to push through the rampart of the will +that Chris had raised up, it was reassuring too to know that Morris was +there, for he bore with him, as old servants do, an atmosphere of home +and security, and he carried himself as well with a wonderful +naturalness, as if the relief of beleaguered monks were as ordinary a +duty as the cleaning of plate.</p> + +<p>March was half over now; and still no sign had come from the world +outside. There were no guests either to bring tidings, for the priory +was a marked place and it was well not to show or receive kindliness in +its regard.</p> + +<p>Within, the tension of nerves grew acute. Chris was conscious of a +deepening exaltation, but it was backed by horror. He found himself now +smiling with an irrepressible internal joy, now twitching with +apprehension, starting at sudden noises, and terrified at loneliness. +Dom Anthony too grew graver still; and would take his arm sometimes and +walk with him, and tell him tales, and watch him with tender eyes. But +in him, as in the younger monk, the strain tightened every day.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>They were singing Compline together one evening with tired, overstrained +voices, for they had determined not to relax any of the chant until it +was necessary. Mr. Morris was behind them at a chair set beyond the +screen; and there were no others present in church.</p> + +<p>The choir was perfectly dark (for they knew the office by heart) except +for a glimmer from the sacristy door where a lamp burned within to light +them to bed. Chris’s thoughts had fled back to that summer evening long +ago when he had knelt far down in the nave and watched the serried line +of the black-hooded soldiers of God, and listened to the tramp of the +psalmody, and longed to be of their company. Now the gallant regiment +had dwindled to two, of which he was one, and the guest-master that had +received him and encouraged him, the other.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony was the officiant this evening, and had just sung lustily +out in the dark that God was about them with His shield, that they need +fear no nightly terror.</p> + +<p>The movement flagged for a moment, for Chris was not attending; Mr. +Morris’s voice began alone, <i>A sagitta volante</i>—and then stopped +abruptly as he realised that he was singing by himself; and +simultaneously came a sharp little crash from the dark altar that rose +up in the gloom in front.</p> + +<p>A sort of sobbing breath broke from Chris at the sudden noise, and he +gripped his hands together.</p> + +<p>In a moment Dom Anthony had taken up the verse.</p> + +<p><i>A sagitta volante</i>—“From the arrow that flieth by day, from the thing +that walketh in darkness—” Chris recovered himself; and the office +passed on.</p> + +<p>As the two passed out together towards the door, Dom Anthony went +forward up the steps; and Chris waited, and watched him stoop and pass +his hands over the floor. Then he straightened himself, came down the +steps and went before Chris into the sacristy.</p> + +<p>Under the lamp he stopped, and lifted what he carried to the light. It +was the little ivory crucifix that he had hung there a few weeks ago +when the last cross of precious metal had disappeared with the +Sub-Prior. It was cracked across the body of the figure now, and one of +the arms was detached at the shoulder and swung free on the nail through +the hand.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony looked at it, turned and looked at Chris; and without a word +the two passed out into the cloister and turned up the dormitory stairs. +To both of them it was a sign that the end was at hand.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>On the following afternoon Mr. Morris ran in to Chris’s carrel, and +found him putting the antiphonary and his implements up into a parcel.</p> + +<p>“Master Christopher,” he said, “Sir James and Sir Nicholas are come.”</p> + +<p>As he hurried out of the cloister he saw the horses standing there, +spent with fast travelling, and the two riders at their heads, with the +dust on their boots, and their clothes disordered. They remained +motionless as the monk came towards them; but he saw that his father’s +face was working and that his eyes were wide and anxious.</p> + +<p>“Thank God,” said the old man softly. “I am in time. They are coming +to-night, Chris.” But there was a questioning look on his face.</p> + +<p>Chris looked at him.</p> + +<p>“Will you take the horses?” said his father again. “Nick and I are +safe.”</p> + +<p>Chris still stared bewildered. Then he understood; and with +understanding came decision.</p> + +<p>“No, father,” he said.</p> + +<p>The old man’s face broke up into lines of emotion.</p> + +<p>“Are you sure, my son?”</p> + +<p>Chris nodded steadily.</p> + +<p>“Then we will all be together,” said Sir James; and he turned to lead +his horse to the stable.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There was a little council held in the guest-house a few minutes later. +Dom Anthony hurried to it, his habit splashed with whitewash, for he had +been cleaning the dormitory, and the four sat down together.</p> + +<p>It seemed that Nicholas had ridden over from Great Keynes to Overfield +earlier in the afternoon, and had brought the news that a company of men +had passed through the village an hour before, and that one of them had +asked which turn to take to Lewes. Sir Nicholas had ridden after them +and enquired their business, and had gathered that they were bound for +the priory, and he then turned his horse and made off to Overfield. His +horse was spent when he arrived there; but he had changed horses and +came on immediately with Sir James, to warn the monks of the approach of +the men, and to give them an opportunity of making their escape if they +thought it necessary.</p> + +<p>“Who were the leaders?” asked the elder monk.</p> + +<p>Nicholas shook his head.</p> + +<p>“They were in front; I dared not ride up.”</p> + +<p>But his sturdy face looked troubled as he answered, and Chris saw his +father’s lips tighten. Dom Anthony drummed softly on the table.</p> + +<p>“There is nothing to be done,” he said. “We wait till we are cast out.”</p> + +<p>“You cannot refuse admittance?” questioned Sir James.</p> + +<p>“But we shall do so,” said the other tranquilly; “at least we shall not +open.”</p> + +<p>“But they will batter the door down.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” said the monk.</p> + +<p>“And then?”</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“I suppose they will put us out.”</p> + +<p>There was absolutely nothing to be done. It was absurd to dream of more +than formal resistance. Up in the North in more than one abbey the +inmates had armed themselves, and faced the spoilers grimly on the +village green; but that was where the whole country side was with them, +and here it was otherwise.</p> + +<p>They talked a few minutes longer, and decided that they would neither +open nor resist. The two monks were determined to remain there until +they were actually cast out; and then the responsibility would rest on +other shoulders than theirs.</p> + +<p>It was certain of course that by this time to-morrow at the latest they +would have been expelled; and it was arranged that the two monks should +ride back to Overfield, if they were personally unmolested, and remain +there until further plans were decided upon.</p> + +<p>The four knew of course that there was a grave risk in provoking the +authorities any further, but it was a risk that the two Religious were +determined to run.</p> + +<p>They broke up presently; Mr. Morris came upstairs to tell them that food +was ready in one of the parlours off the cloister; and the two laymen +went off with him, while the monks went to sing vespers for the last +time.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>An hour or two later the two were in the refectory at supper. The +evening was drawing in, and the light in the tall windows was fading. +Opposite where Chris sat (for Dom Anthony was reading aloud from the +pulpit), a row of coats burned in the glass, and he ran his eyes over +them. They had been set there, he remembered, soon after his own coming +to the place; the records had been searched, and the arms of every prior +copied and emblazoned in the panes. There they all were; from Lanzo of +five centuries ago, whose arms were conjectural, down to Robert Crowham, +who had forsaken his trust; telling the long tale of prelates and +monastic life, from the beginning to the close. He looked round beyond +the circle of light cast by his own candle, and the place seemed full of +ghosts and presences to his fancy. The pale oak panelling glimmered +along the walls above the empty seats, from the Prior’s to the left, +over which the dusky fresco of the Majesty of Christ grew darker still +as the light faded, down to the pulpit opposite where Dom Anthony’s +grave ruddy face with downcast eyes stood out vivid in the candlelight. +Ah! surely there was a cloud of witnesses now, a host of faces looking +down from the black rafters overhead, and through the glimmering +panes,—the faces of those who had eaten here with the same sacramental +dignity and graciousness that these two survivors used. It was +impossible to feel lonely in this stately house, saturated with holy +life; and with a thrill at his heart he remembered how Dom Anthony had +once whispered to him at the beginning of the troubles, that if others +held their peace the very stones should cry out; and that God was able +of those stones to raise up children to His praise....</p> + +<p>There was a sound of brisk, hurrying footsteps in the cloister outside, +Dom Anthony ceased his reading with his finger on the place, and the +eyes of the two monks met.</p> + +<p>The door was opened abruptly, and Morris stood there.</p> + +<p>“My master has sent me, sir,” he said. “They are coming.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_3VI">CHAPTER VI<br><span class="small">THE LAST STAND</span></h4></div> + + +<p>The court outside had deepened into shadows as they came out; but +overhead the sky still glowed faintly luminous in a tender translucent +green. The evening star shone out clear and tranquil opposite them in +the west.</p> + +<p>There were three figures standing at the foot of the steps that led down +from the cloister; one of the servants with the two gentlemen; and as +Chris pushed forward quickly his father turned and lifted his finger for +silence.</p> + +<p>The town lay away to the right; and over the wall that joined the west +end of the church to the gatehouse, there were a few lights +visible—windows here and there just illuminated.</p> + +<p>For the first moment Chris thought there had been a mistake; he had +expected a clamour at the gate, a jangling of the bell. Then as he +listened he knew that it was no false alarm.</p> + +<p>Across the wall, from the direction of the hills that showed dimly +against the evening sky, there came a murmur, growing as he listened. +The roads were hard from lack of rain, and he could distinguish the +sound of horses, a great company; but rising above this was a dull roar +of voices. Every moment it waxed, died once or twice, then sounded out +nearer and louder. There was a barking of dogs, the cries of children, +and now and again the snatch of a song or a shouted word or two.</p> + +<p>Of the group on the steps within not one stirred, except when Sir James +slowly lowered his upraised hand; and so they waited.</p> + +<p>The company was drawing nearer now; and Chris calculated that they must +be coming down the steep road that led from the town; and even as he +thought it he heard the sound of hoofs on the bridge that crossed the +Winterbourne.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony pushed by him.</p> + +<p>“To the gate,” he said, and went down the step and across the court +followed by the others. As they went the clamour grew loud and near in +the road outside; and a ruddy light shone on the projecting turret of +the gateway.</p> + +<p>Chris was conscious of extraordinary coolness now that the peril was on +him; and he stared up at the studded oak doors, at the wicket cut in one +of the leaves, and the sliding panel that covered the grill, with little +thought but that of conjecture as to how long the destruction of the +gate would take. The others, too, though he was scarcely aware of their +presence, were silent and rigid at his side, as Dom Anthony stepped up +to the closed grill and waited there for the summons.</p> + +<p>It came almost immediately.</p> + +<p>There was a great crescendo of sound as the party turned the corner, and +a flare of light shone under the gate; then the sound of loud talking, a +silence of the hoofs; and a sudden jangle on the bell overhead.</p> + +<p>The monk turned from the grill and lifted his hand.</p> + +<p>Then again the talking grew loud, as the mob swept round the corner +after the horses.</p> + +<p>Still all was silent within. Chris felt his father’s hand seek his own a +moment, and grip it; and then above the gabbling clamour a voice spoke +distinctly outside.</p> + +<p>“Have the rats run, then?”</p> + +<p>The bell danced again over their heads; and there was a clatter of raps +on the huge door.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony slid back the shutter.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>For a moment it was not noticed outside, for the entry was dark. Chris +could catch a glimpse on either side of the monk’s head of a flare of +light, but no more.</p> + +<p>Then the same voice spoke again, and with something of a foreign accent.</p> + +<p>“You are there, then; make haste and open.”</p> + +<p>Another voice shouted authoritatively for silence; and the clamour of +tongues died.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony waited until all was quiet, and then answered steadily.</p> + +<p>“Who are you?”</p> + +<p>There was an oath; the tumult began again, but hushed immediately, as +the same voice that had called for admittance shouted aloud—</p> + +<p>“Open, I tell you, you bloody monk! We come from the King.”</p> + +<p>“Why do you come?”</p> + +<p>A gabble of fierce tongues broke out; Chris pressed up to Dom Anthony’s +back, and looked out. The space was very narrow, and he could not see +much more than a man’s leg across a saddle, the brown shoulder of a +horse in front, and a smoky haze beyond and over the horse’s back. The +leg shifted a little as he watched, as if the rider turned; and then +again the voice pealed out above the tumult.</p> + +<p>“Will you open, sir, for the last time?”</p> + +<p>“I will not,” shouted the monk through the grill. “You are nothing +but—” then he dashed the shutter into its place as a stick struck +fiercely at the bars.</p> + +<p>“Back to the cloister,” he said.</p> + +<p>The roar outside was tremendous as the six went back across the empty +court; but it fell to a sinister silence as an order or two was shouted +outside; and then again swelled with an excited note in it, as the first +crash sounded on the panels.</p> + +<p>Chris looked at his father as they stood again on the steps fifty yards +away. The old man was standing rigid, his hands at his sides, staring +out towards the arch of the gateway that now thundered like a drum; and +his lips were moving. Once he caught his breath as a voice shouted above +the din outside, and half turned to his son, his hand uplifted as if for +silence. Then again the voice pealed, and Sir James faced round and +stared into Chris’s eyes. But neither spoke a word.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony, who was standing a yard or two in front, turned presently +as the sound of splintering began to be mingled with the reverberations, +and came towards them. His square, full face was steady and alert, and +he spoke with a sharp decision.</p> + +<p>“You and Sir Nicholas, sir, had best be within. My place will be here; +they will be in immediately.”</p> + +<p>His words were perfectly distinct here in the open air in spite of the +uproar from the gate.</p> + +<p>There was an indignant burst from the young squire.</p> + +<p>“No, no, father; I shall not stir from here.”</p> + +<p>The monk looked at him; but said no more and turned round.</p> + +<p>A sedate voice spoke from the dark doorway behind.</p> + +<p>“John and I have fetched out a table or two, father; we can brace this +door—”</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony turned again.</p> + +<p>“We shall not resist further,” he said.</p> + +<p>Then they were silent, for they were helpless. There was nothing to be +done but to stand there and listen to the din, to the crash that +splintered more every moment in the cracked woodwork, and to watch the +high wall and turret solemn and strong against the stars, and bright +here and there at the edges with the light from the torches beneath. The +guest-house opposite them was dark, except for one window in the upper +floor that glowed and faded with the light of the fire that had been +kindled within an hour or two before.</p> + +<p>Sir James took his son suddenly by the arm.</p> + +<p>“And you, Chris—” he said.</p> + +<p>“I shall stay here, father.”</p> + +<p>There was a rending thunder from the gate; the wicket reeled in and +fell, and in a moment through the flimsy opening had sprung the figure +of a man. They could see him plainly as he stood there in the light of +the torches, a tall upright figure, a feathered hat on his head, and a +riding cane in his hand.</p> + +<p>The noise was indescribable outside as men fought to get through; there +was one scream of pain, the plunging of a horse, and then a loud steady +roar drowning all else.</p> + +<p>The oblong patch of light was darkened immediately, as another man +sprang through, and then another and another; then a pause—then the +bright flare of a torch shone in the opening; and a moment later a +fellow carrying a flambeau had made his way through.</p> + +<p>The whole space under the arch was now illuminated. Overhead the plain +mouldings shone out and faded as the torch swayed; every brick of the +walls was visible, and the studs and bars of the huge doors.</p> + +<p>Chris had sprung forward by an uncontrollable impulse as the wicket fell +in; and the two monks were now standing motionless on the floor of the +court, side by side, in their black habits and scapulars, hooded and +girded, with the two gentlemen and the servants on the steps behind.</p> + +<p>Chris saw the leaders come together under the arch, as the whole gate +began to groan and bulge under the pressure of the crowd; and a moment +later he caught the flash of steel as the long rapiers whisked out.</p> + +<p>Then above the baying he heard a fierce authoritative voice scream out +an order, and saw that one of the gentlemen in front was at the door, +his rapier protruded before him; and understood the manœuvre. It was +necessary that the mad crowd should be kept back.</p> + +<p>The tumult died and became a murmur; and then one by one a file of +figures came through. In the hand of each was an instrument of some +kind, a pick or a bludgeon; and it was evident that it was these who had +broken in the gate.</p> + +<p>Chris counted them mechanically as they streamed through. There seemed +to be a dozen or so.</p> + +<p>Then again the man who had guarded the door as they came through slipped +back through the opening; and they heard his voice beginning to harangue +the mob.</p> + +<p>But a moment later they had ceased to regard him; for from the archway, +with the torch-bearer beside him, advanced the tall man with the +riding-cane who had been the first to enter; and as he emerged into the +court Chris recognised his brother.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He was in a plain rich riding-suit with great boots and plumed hat. He +walked with an easy air as if certain of himself, and neither quickened +nor decreased his pace as he saw the monks and the gentlemen standing +there.</p> + +<p>He halted a couple of yards from them, and Chris saw that his face was +as assured as his gait. His thin lips were tight and firm, and his eyes +with a kind of insolent irony looked up and down the figures of the +monks. There was not the faintest sign of recognition in them.</p> + +<p>“You have given us a great deal of labour,” he said, “and to no purpose. +We shall have to report it all to my Lord Cromwell. I understand that +you were the two who refused to sign the surrender. It was the act of +fools, like this last. I have no authority to take you, so you had best +be gone.”</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony answered him in an equally steady voice.</p> + +<p>“We are ready to go now,” he said. “You understand we have yielded to +nothing but force.”</p> + +<p>Ralph’s lips writhed in a smile.</p> + +<p>“Oh! if that pleases you,” he said. “Well, then—”</p> + +<p>He took a little step aside, and made a movement towards the gate where +there sounded out still an angry hum beneath the shouting voice that was +addressing them.</p> + +<p>Chris turned to his father behind, and the voice died in his throat, so +dreadful was that face that was looking at Ralph. He was standing as +before, rigid it seemed with grief or anger; and his grey eyes were +bright with a tense emotion; his lips too were as firm as his son’s. But +he spoke no word. Sir Nicholas was at his side, with one foot advanced, +and in attitude as if to spring; and Morris’s face looked like a mask +over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Well, then—” said Ralph once more.</p> + +<p>“Ah! you damned hound!” roared the young squire’s voice; and his hand +went up with the whip in it.</p> + +<p>Ralph did not move a muscle. He seemed cut in steel.</p> + +<p>“Let us go,” said Dom Anthony again, to Chris, almost tenderly; “it is +enough that we are turned out by force.”</p> + +<p>“You can go by the church, if you will,” said Ralph composedly. “In +fact—” He stopped as the murmur howled up again from the gate—“In +fact you had better go that way. They do not seem to be your friends out +there.”</p> + +<p>“We will go whichever way you wish,” remarked the elder monk.</p> + +<p>“Then the church,” said Ralph, “or some other private door. I suppose +you have one. Most of your houses have one, I believe.”</p> + +<p>The sneer snapped the tension.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony turned his back on him instantly.</p> + +<p>“Come, brother,” he said.</p> + +<p>Chris took his father by the arm as he went up the steps.</p> + +<p>“Come, sir,” he said, “we are to go this way.”</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s pause. The old man still stared down at his elder +son, who was standing below in the same position. Chris heard a deep +breath, and thought he was on the point of speaking; but there was +silence. Then the two turned and followed the others into the cloister.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_3VII">CHAPTER VII<br><span class="small">AXES AND HAMMERS</span></h4></div> + + +<p>Chris sat next morning at a high window of a house near Saint Michael’s +looking down towards the south of the town.</p> + +<p>They had escaped without difficulty the night before through the +church-entrance, with a man whom Ralph sent after them to see that they +carried nothing away, leaving the crowd roaring round the corner of the +gate, and though people looked curiously at the monks, the five laymen +with them protected them from assault. Mr. Morris had found a lodging a +couple of days before, unknown to Chris, in the house of a woman who was +favourable to the Religious, and had guided the party straight there on +the previous evening.</p> + +<p>The two monks had said mass in Saint Michael’s that morning before the +town was awake; and were now keeping within doors at Sir James’s earnest +request, while the two gentlemen with one of the servants had gone to +see what was being done at the priory.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>From where Chris sat in his black habit at the leaded window he could +see straight down the opening of the steep street, across the lower +roofs below, to where the great pile of the Priory church less than +half-a-mile away soared up in the sunlight against the water-meadows +where the Ouse ran to the south of the town.</p> + +<p>The street was very empty below him, for every human being that could +do so had gone down to the sacking of the priory. There might be +pickings, scraps gathered from the hoards that the monks were supposed +to have gathered; there would probably be an auction; and there would +certainly be plenty of excitement and pleasure.</p> + +<p>Chris was himself almost numb to sensation. The coolness that had +condensed round his soul last night had hardened into ice; he scarcely +realised what was going on, or how great was the catastrophe into which +his life was plunged. There lay the roofs before him—he ran his eye +from the west tower past the high lantern to the delicate tracery of the +eastern apse and chapels—in the hands of the spoilers; and here he sat +dry-eyed and steady-mouthed looking down on it, as a man looks at a +wound not yet begun to smart.</p> + +<p>It was piteously clear and still. Smoke was rising from a fire somewhere +behind the church, a noise as of metal on stone chinked steadily, and +the voices of men calling one to another sounded continually from the +enclosure. Now and again the tiny figure of a workman showed clear on +the roof, pick in hand; or leaning to call directions down to his +fellows beneath.</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony looked in presently, breviary in hand, and knelt by Chris on +the window-step, watching too; but he spoke no word, glanced at the +white face and sunken eyes of the other, sighed once or twice, and went +out again.</p> + +<p>The morning passed on and still Chris watched. By eleven o’clock the men +were gone from the roof; half an hour had passed, and no further figure +had appeared.</p> + +<p>There were footsteps on the stairs; and Sir James came in.</p> + +<p>He came straight across to his son and sat down by him. Chris looked at +him. The old man nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yes, my son,” he said, “they are at it. Nothing is to be left, but the +cloister and guest-house. The church is to be down in a week they say.”</p> + +<p>Chris looked at him dully.</p> + +<p>“All?” he said.</p> + +<p>“All the church, my son.”</p> + +<p>Sir James gave an account of what he had seen. He had made his way in +with Nicholas and a few other persons, into the court; but had not been +allowed to enter the cloister. There was a furnace being made ready in +the calefactorium for the melting of the lead, he had been told by one +of the men; and the church, as he had seen for himself, was full of +workmen.</p> + +<p>“And the Blessed Sacrament?” asked Chris.</p> + +<p>“A priest was sent for this morning to carry It away to a church; I know +not which.”</p> + +<p>Sir James described the method of destruction.</p> + +<p>They were beginning with the apse and the chapels behind the high altar. +The ornaments had been removed, the images piled in a great heap in the +outer court, and the brasses had been torn up. There were half a dozen +masons busy at undercutting the pillars and walls; and as they excavated +the carpenters made wooden insertions to prop up the weight. The men had +been brought down from London, as the commissioners were not certain of +the temper of the Lewes people. Two of the four great pillars behind the +high altar were already cut half through.</p> + +<p>“And Ralph?”</p> + +<p>The old man’s face grew tense and bitter.</p> + +<p>“I saw him in the roof,” he said; “he made as if he did not see me.”</p> + +<p>They were half-through dinner before Nicholas joined them. He was +flushed and dusty and furious.</p> + +<p>“Ah! the hounds!” he said, as he stood at the door, trembling. “They +say they will have the chapels down before night. They have stripped the +lead.”</p> + +<p>Sir James looked up and motioned him to sit down.</p> + +<p>“We will go down again presently,” he said.</p> + +<p>“But we have saved our luggage,” went on Nicholas, taking his seat; “and +there was a parcel of yours, Chris, that I put with it. It is all to be +sent up with the horses to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Did you speak with Mr. Ralph?” asked Dom Anthony.</p> + +<p>“Ah! I did; the dog! and I told him what I thought. But he dared not +refuse me the luggage. John is to go for it all to-night.”</p> + +<p>He told them during dinner another fact that he had learned.</p> + +<p>“You know who is to have it all?” he said fiercely, his fingers +twitching with emotion.</p> + +<p>“It is Master Gregory Cromwell, and his wife, and his baby. A fine +nursery!”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>As the evening drew on, Chris was again at the window alone. He had said +his office earlier in the afternoon, and sat here again now, with his +hands before him, staring down at the church.</p> + +<p>One of the servants had come up with a message from Sir James an hour +before telling him not to expect them before dusk; and that they would +send up news of any further developments. The whole town was there, said +the man: it had been found impossible to keep them out. Dom Anthony +presently came again and sat with Chris; and Mr. Morris, who had been +left as a safeguard to the monks, slipped in soon after and stood behind +the two; and so the three waited.</p> + +<p>The sky was beginning to glow again as it had done last night with the +clear radiance of a cloudless sunset; and the tall west tower stood up +bright in the glory. How infinitely far away last night seemed now, +little and yet distinct as a landscape seen through a reversed +telescope! How far away that silent waiting at the cloister door, the +clamour at the gate, the forced entrance, the slipping away through the +church!</p> + +<p>The smoke was rising faster than ever now from the great chimney, and +hung in a cloud above the buildings. Perhaps even now the lead was being +cast.</p> + +<p>There was a clatter at the corner of the cobbled street below, and Dom +Anthony leaned from the window. He drew back.</p> + +<p>“It is the horses,” he said.</p> + +<p>The servant presently came up to announce that the two gentlemen were +following immediately, and that he had had orders to procure horses and +saddle them at once. He had understood Sir James to say that they must +leave that night.</p> + +<p>Mr. Morris hurried out to see to the packing.</p> + +<p>In five minutes the gentlemen themselves appeared.</p> + +<p>Sir James came quickly across to the two monks.</p> + +<p>“We must go to-night, Chris,” he said. “We had words with Portinari. You +must not remain longer in the town.”</p> + +<p>Chris looked at him.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” he said.</p> + +<p>“And the chapels will be down immediately. Oh! dear God!”</p> + +<p>Dom Anthony made room for the old man to sit down in the window-seat; +and himself stood behind the two with Nicholas; and so again they +watched.</p> + +<p>The light was fading fast now, and in the windows below lights were +beginning to shine. The square western tower that dominated the whole +priory had lost its splendour, and stood up strong and pale against the +meadows. There was a red flare of light somewhere over the wall of the +court, and the inner side of the gate-turret was illuminated by it.</p> + +<p>A tense excitement lay on the watchers; and no sound came from them but +that of quick breathing as they waited for what they knew was imminent.</p> + +<p>Outside the evening was wonderfully still; they could hear two men +talking somewhere in the street below; but from the priory came no +sound. The chink of the picks was still, and the cries of the workmen. +Far away beyond the castle on their left came an insistent barking of a +dog; and once, when a horseman rode by below Chris bit his lip with +vexation, for it seemed to him like the disturbing of a death bed. A +star or two looked out, vanished, and peeped again from the luminous +sky, to the south, and the downs beneath were grey and hazy.</p> + +<p>All the watchers now had their eyes on the eastern end of the church +that lay in dim shadow; they could see the roof of the vault behind +where the high altar lay beneath; the flying buttress of a chapel below; +and, nearer, the low roof of the Lady-chapel.</p> + +<p>Chris kept his eyes strained on the upper vault, for there, he knew the +first movement would show itself.</p> + +<p>The time seemed interminable. He moistened his dry lips from time to +time, shifted his position a little, and moved his elbow from the sharp +moulding of the window-frame.</p> + +<p>Then he caught his breath.</p> + +<p>From where he sat, in the direct line of his eyes, the top of a patch of +evergreen copse was visible just beyond the roof of the vault; and as +he looked he saw that a patch of paler green had appeared below it. All +in a moment he saw too the flying buttress crook itself like an elbow +and disappear. Then the vault was gone and the roof beyond; the walls +sank with incredible slowness and vanished.</p> + +<p>A cloud of white dust puffed up like smoke.</p> + +<p>Then through the open window came the roar of the tumbling masonry; and +shrill above it the clamour of a great crowd.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h3 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_III">BOOK III<br><span class="small">THE KING’S GRATITUDE</span></h3></div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_4I">CHAPTER I<br><span class="small">A SCHEME</span></h4></div> + + +<p>The period that followed the destruction of Lewes Priory held very +strange months for Chris. He had slipped out of the stream into a +back-water, from which he could watch the swift movements of the time, +while himself undisturbed by them; for no further notice was taken of +his refusal to sign the surrender or of his resistance to the +Commissioners. The hands of the authorities were so full of business +that apparently it was not worth their while to trouble about an +inoffensive monk of no particular notoriety, who after all had done +little except in a negative way, and who appeared now to acquiesce in +silence and seclusion.</p> + +<p>The household at Overfield was of a very mixed nature. Dom Anthony after +a month or two had left for the Continent to take up his vocation in a +Benedictine house; and Sir James and his wife, Chris, Margaret, and Mr. +Carleton remained together. For the present Chris and Margaret were +determined to wait, for a hundred things might intervene—Henry’s death, +a changing of his mind, a foreign invasion on the part of the Catholic +powers, an internal revolt in England, and such things—and set the +clock back again, and, unlike Dom Anthony, they had a home where they +could follow their Rules in tolerable comfort.</p> + +<p>The country was indeed very deeply stirred by the events that were +taking place; but for the present, partly from terror and partly from +the great forces that were brought to bear upon English convictions, it +gave no expression to its emotion. The methods that Cromwell had +employed with such skill in the past were still active. On the worldly +side there was held out to the people the hope of relieved taxation, of +the distribution of monastic wealth and lands; on the spiritual side the +bishops under Cranmer were zealous in controverting the old principles +and throwing doubt upon the authority of the Pope. It was impossible for +the unlearned to know what to believe; new manifestoes were issued +continually by the King and clergy, full of learned arguments and +persuasive appeals; and the professors of the old religion were +continually discredited by accusations of fraud, avarice, immorality, +hypocrisy and the like. They were silenced, too; while active and +eloquent preachers like Latimer raged from pulpit to pulpit, denouncing, +expounding, convincing.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the work went on rapidly. The summer and autumn of ’38 saw +again destruction after destruction of Religious Houses and objects of +veneration; and the intimidation of the most influential personages on +the Catholic side.</p> + +<p>In February, for example, the rood of Boxley was brought up to London +with every indignity, and after being exhibited with shouts of laughter +at Whitehall, and preached against at Paul’s Cross, it was tossed down +among the zealous citizens and smashed to pieces. In the summer, among +others, the shrine of St. Swithun at Winchester was defaced and robbed; +and in the autumn that followed the friaries which had stood out so long +began to fall right and left. In October the Holy Blood of Hayles, a +relic brought from the East in the thirteenth century and preserved +with great love and honour ever since, was taken from its resting place +and exposed to ridicule in London. Finally in the same month, after St. +Thomas of Canterbury had been solemnly declared a traitor to his prince, +his name, images and pictures ordered to be erased and destroyed out of +every book, window and wall, and he himself summoned with grotesque +solemnity to answer the charges brought against him, his relics were +seized and burned, and—which was more to the point in the King’s view, +his shrine was stripped of its gold and jewels and vestments, which were +conveyed in a string of twenty-six carts to the King’s treasury. The +following year events were yet more terrible. The few great houses that +survived were one by one brought within reach of the King’s hand; and +those that did not voluntarily surrender fell under the heavier +penalties of attainder. Abbot Whiting of Glastonbury was sent up to +London in September, and two months later suffered on Tor hill within +sight of the monastery he had ruled so long and so justly; and on the +same day the Abbot of Reading suffered too outside his own gateway. Six +weeks afterwards Abbot Marshall, of Colchester, was also put to death.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was a piteous life that devout persons led at this time; and few were +more unhappy than the household at Overfield. It was the more miserable +because Lady Torridon herself was so entirely out of sympathy with the +others. While she was not often the actual bearer of ill news—for she +had neither sufficient strenuousness nor opportunity for it—it was +impossible to doubt that she enjoyed its arrival.</p> + +<p>They were all together at supper one warm summer evening when a servant +came in to announce that a monk of St. Swithun’s was asking hospitality. +Sir James glanced at his wife who sat with passive downcast face; and +then ordered the priest to be brought in.</p> + +<p>He was a timid, tactless man who failed to grasp the situation, and when +the wine and food had warmed his heart he began to talk a great deal too +freely, taking it for granted that all there were in sympathy with him. +He addressed himself chiefly to Chris, who answered courteously; and +described the sacking of the shrine at some length.</p> + +<p>“He had already set aside our cross called Hierusalem,” cried the monk, +his weak face looking infinitely pathetic with its mingled sorrow and +anger, “and two of our gold chalices, to take them with him when he +went; and then with his knives and hammers, as the psalmist tells us, he +hacked off the silver plates from the shrine. There was a fellow I knew +very well—he had been to me to confession two days before—who held a +candle and laughed. And then when all was done; and that was not till +three o’clock in the morning, one of the smiths tested the metal and +cried out that there was not one piece of true gold in it all. And Mr. +Pollard raged at us for it, and told us that our gold was as counterfeit +as the rotten bones that we worshipped. But indeed there was plenty of +gold; and the man lied; for it was a very rich shrine. God’s vengeance +will fall on them for their lies and their robbery. Is it not so, +mistress?”</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon lifted her eyes and looked at him. Her husband hastened to +interpose.</p> + +<p>“Have you finished your wine, father?”</p> + +<p>The monk seemed not to hear him; and his talk flowed on about the +destruction of the high altar and the spoiling of the reredos, which had +taken place on the following days; and as he talked he filled his +Venetian glass more than once and drank it off; and his lantern face +grew flushed and his eyes animated. Chris saw that his mother was +watching the monk shrewdly and narrowly, and feared what might come. But +it was unavoidable.</p> + +<p>“We poor monks,” the priest cried presently, “shall soon be cast out to +beg our bread. The King’s Grace—”</p> + +<p>“Is not poverty one of the monastic vows?” put in Lady Torridon +suddenly, still looking steadily at his half-drunk glass.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes, mistress; and the King’s Grace is determined to make us keep +it, it seems.”</p> + +<p>He lifted his glass and finished it; and put out his hand again to the +bottle.</p> + +<p>“But that is a good work, surely,” smiled the other. “It will be surely +a safeguard against surfeiting and drunkenness.”</p> + +<p>Sir James rose instantly.</p> + +<p>“Come, father,” he said to the staring monk, “you will be tired out, and +will want your bed.”</p> + +<p>A slow smile shone and faded on his wife’s face as she rose and rustled +down the long hall.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Such incidents as this made life at Overfield very difficult for them +all; it was hard for these sore hearts to be continually on the watch +for dangerous subjects, and only to be able to comfort one another when +the mistress of the house was absent; but above all it was difficult for +Margaret. She was nearly as silent as her mother, but infinitely more +tender; and since the two were naturally together for the most part, +except when the nun was at her long prayers, there were often very +difficult and painful incidents.</p> + +<p>For the first eighteen months after her return her mother let her +alone; but as time went on and the girl’s resolution persevered, she +began to be subjected to a distressing form of slight persecution.</p> + +<p>For example: Chris and his father came in one day in the autumn from a +walk through the priory garden that lay beyond the western moat. As they +passed in the level sunshine along the prim box-lined paths, and had +reached the centre where the dial stood, they heard voices in the +summer-house that stood on the right behind a yew hedge.</p> + +<p>Sir James hesitated a moment; and as he waited heard Margaret’s voice +with a thrill of passion in it.</p> + +<p>“I cannot listen to that, mother. It is wicked to say such things.”</p> + +<p>The two turned instantly, passed along the path and came round the +corner.</p> + +<p>Margaret was standing with one hand on the little table, half-turned to +go. Her eyes were alight with indignation, and her lips trembled. Her +mother sat on the other side, her silver-handled stick beside her, and +her hands folded serenely together.</p> + +<p>Sir James looked from one to the other; and there fell a silence.</p> + +<p>“Are you coming with us, Margaret?” he said.</p> + +<p>The girl still hesitated a moment, glancing at her mother, and then +stepped out of the summer-house. Chris saw that bitter smile writhe and +die on the elder woman’s face, but she said nothing.</p> + +<p>Margaret burst out presently when they had crossed the moat and were +coming up to the long grey-towered house.</p> + +<p>“I cannot bear such talk, father,” she said, with her eyes bright with +angry tears, “she was saying such things about Rusper, and how idle we +all were there, and how foolish.”</p> + +<p>“You must not mind it, my darling. Your mother does not—does not +understand.”</p> + +<p>“There was never any one like Mother Abbess,” went on the girl. “I never +saw her idle or out of humour; and—and we were all so busy and happy.”</p> + +<p>Her eyes overflowed a moment; her father put his arm tenderly round her +shoulders, and they went in together.</p> + +<p>It was a terrible thing for Margaret to be thrown like this out of the +one life that was a reality to her. As she looked back now it seemed as +if the convent shone glorified and beautiful in a haze of grace. The +discipline of the house had ordered and inspired the associations on +which memories afterwards depend, and had excluded the discordant notes +that spoil the harmonies of secular life. The chapel, with its delicate +windows, its oak rails, its scent of flowers and incense, its tiled +floor, its single row of carved woodwork and the crosier by the Abbess’s +seat, was a place of silence instinct with a Divine Presence that +radiated from the hanging pyx; it was these particular things, and not +others like them, that had been the scene of her romance with God, her +aspirations, tendernesses, tears and joys. She had walked in the tiny +cloister with her Lover in her heart, and the glazed laurel-leaves that +rattled in the garth had been musical with His voice; it was in her +little white cell that she had learned to sleep in His arms and to wake +to the brightness of His Face. And now all this was dissipated. There +were other associations with her home, of childish sorrows and passions +before she had known God, of hunting-parties and genial ruddy men who +smelt of fur and blood, of her mother’s chilly steady presence— +associations that jarred with the inner life; whereas in the convent +there had been nothing that was not redolent with efforts and rewards of +the soul. Even without her mother life would have been hard enough now +at Overfield; with her it was nearly intolerable.</p> + +<p>Chris, however, was able to do a good deal for the girl; for he had +suffered in the same way; and had the advantage of a man’s strength. She +could talk to him as to no one else of the knowledge of the interior +vocation in both of them that persevered in spite of their ejection from +the cloister; and he was able to remind her that the essence of the +enclosure, under these circumstances, lay in the spirit and not in +material stones.</p> + +<p>It was an advantage for Chris too to have her under his protection. The +fact that he had to teach her and remind her of facts that they both +knew, made them more real to himself; and to him as to her there came +gradually a kind of sorrow-shot contentment that deepened month by month +in spite of their strange and distracting surroundings.</p> + +<p>But he was not wholly happy about her; she was silent and lonely +sometimes; he began to see what an immense advantage it would be to her +in the peculiarly difficult circumstances of the time, to have some one +of her own sex and sympathies at hand. But he did not see how it could +be arranged. For the present it was impossible for her to enter the +Religious Life, except by going abroad; and so long as there was the +faintest hope of the convents being restored in England, both she and +her father and brother shrank from the step. And the hope was increased +by the issue of the Six Articles in the following May, by which +Transubstantiation was declared to be a revealed dogma, to be held on +penalty of death by burning; and communion in one kind, the celibacy of +the clergy, the perpetuity of the vow of chastity, private masses, and +auricular confession were alike ratified as parts of the Faith held by +the Church of which Henry had made himself head.</p> + +<p>Yet as time went on, and there were no signs of the restoration of the +Religious Houses, Chris began to wonder again as to what was best for +Margaret. Perhaps until matters developed it would be well for her to +have some friend in whom she could confide, even if only to relax the +strain for a few weeks. He went to his father one day in the autumn and +laid his views before him.</p> + +<p>Sir James nodded and seemed to understand.</p> + +<p>“Do you think Mary would be of any service?”</p> + +<p>Chris hesitated.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, I think so—but—”</p> + +<p>His father looked at him.</p> + +<p>“It is a stranger I think that would help her more. Perhaps another +nun—?”</p> + +<p>“My dear lad, I dare not ask another nun. Your mother—”</p> + +<p>“I know,” said Chris.</p> + +<p>“Well, I will think of it,” said the other.</p> + +<p>A couple of days later Sir James took him aside after supper into his +own private room.</p> + +<p>“Chris,” he said, “I have been thinking of what you said. And Mary shall +certainly come here for Christmas, with Nick; but—but there is someone +else too I would like to ask.”</p> + +<p>He looked at his son with an odd expression.</p> + +<p>Chris could not imagine what this meant.</p> + +<p>“It is Mistress Atherton,” went on the other. “You see you know her a +little—at least you have seen her; and there is Ralph. And from all +that I have heard of her—her friendship with Master More and the rest, +I think she might be the very friend for poor Meg. Do you think she +would come, Chris?”</p> + +<p>Chris was silent. He could not yet fully dissociate the thought of +Beatrice from the memory of the time when she had taken Ralph’s part. +Besides, was it possible to ask her under the circumstances?</p> + +<p>“Then there was one more thing that I never told you;” went on his +father, “there was no use in it. But I went to see Mistress Atherton +when she was betrothed to Ralph. I saw her in London; and I think I may +say we made friends. And she has very few now; she keeps herself aloof. +Folks are afraid of her too. I think it would be a kindness to her. I +could not understand how she could marry Ralph; and now that is +explained.”</p> + +<p>Chris was startled by this news. His father had not breathed a word of +it before.</p> + +<p>“She made me promise,” went on Sir James, “to tell her if Ralph did +anything unworthy. It was after the first news had reached her of what +the Visitors were doing. And I told her, of course, about Rusper. I +think we owe her something. And I think too from what I saw of her that +she might make her way with your mother.”</p> + +<p>“It might succeed,” said Chris doubtfully, “but it is surely difficult +for her to come—”</p> + +<p>“I know—yes—with Ralph and her betrothal. But if we can ask her, +surely she can come. I can tell her how much we need her. I would send +Meg to Great Keynes, if I dared, but I dare not. It is not so safe there +as here; she had best keep quiet.”</p> + +<p>They talked about it a few minutes more, and Chris became more inclined +to it. From what he remembered of Beatrice and the impression that she +had made on him in those few fierce minutes in Ralph’s house he began to +see that she would probably be able to hold her own; and if only +Margaret would take to her, the elder girl might be of great service in +establishing the younger. It was an odd and rather piquant idea, and +gradually took hold of his imagination. It was a very extreme step to +take, considering that she had broken off her betrothal to the eldest +son of the house; but against that was set the fact that she would not +meet him there; and that her presence would be really valued by at least +four-fifths of the household.</p> + +<p>It was decided that Lady Torridon should be told immediately; and a day +or two later Sir James came to Chris in the garden to tell him that she +had consented.</p> + +<p>“I do not understand it at all,” said the old man, “but your mother +seemed very willing. I wonder—”</p> + +<p>And then he stopped abruptly.</p> + +<p>The letter was sent. Chris saw it and the strong appeal it contained +that Beatrice should come to the aid of a nun who was pining for want of +companionship. A day or two later brought down the answer that Mistress +Atherton would have great pleasure in coming a week before Christmas.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Margaret had a fit of shyness when the day came for her arrival. It was +a clear frosty afternoon, with a keen turquoise sky overhead, and she +wandered out in her habit down the slope to the moat, crossed the +bridge, glancing at the thin ice and the sedge that pierced it, and came +up into the private garden. She knew she could hear the sounds of wheels +from there, and had an instinctive shrinking from being at the house +when the stranger arrived.</p> + +<p>The grass walks were crisp to the foot; the plants in the deep beds +rested in a rigid stillness with a black blossom or two drooping here +and there; and the hollies beyond the yew hedge lifted masses of green +lit by scarlet against the pale sky. Her breath went up like smoke as +she walked softly up and down.</p> + +<p>There was no sound to disturb her. Once she heard the clink of the +blacksmith’s forge half a mile away in the village; once a blackbird +dashed chattering from a hedge, scudded in a long dip, and rose again +over it; a robin followed her in brisk hops, with a kind of pathetic +impertinence in his round eye, as he wondered whether this human +creature’s footsteps would not break the iron armour of the ground and +give him a chance to live.</p> + +<p>She wondered a thousand things as she went; what kind of a woman this +was that was coming, how she would look, why she had not married Ralph, +and above all, whether she understood—whether she understood!</p> + +<p>A kind of frost had fallen on her own soul; she could find no sustenance +there; it was all there, she knew, all the mysterious life that had +rioted within her like spring, in the convent, breathing its fragrances, +bewildering in its wealth of shape and colour. But an icy breath had +petrified it all; it had sunk down out of sight; it needed a soul like +her own, feminine and sympathetic, a soul that had experienced the same +things as her own, that knew the tenderness and love of the Saviour, to +melt that frigid covering and draw out the essences and sweetness again, +that lay there paralysed by this icy environment....</p> + +<p>There were wheels at last.</p> + +<p>She gathered up her black skirt, and ran to the edge of the low yews +that bounded the garden on the north; and as she caught a glimpse of the +nodding heads of the postilions, the plumes of their mounts, and the +great carriage-roof swaying in the iron ruts, she shrank back again, in +an agony of shyness, terrified of being seen.</p> + +<p>The sky had deepened to flaming orange in the west, barred by the tall +pines, before she unlatched the garden-gate to go back to the house.</p> + +<p>The windows shone out bright and inviting from the parlour on the +ground-floor and from beneath the high gable of the hall as she came up +the slope. Mistress Atherton, she knew, would be in one of these rooms +if she had not already gone up stairs; and with an instinct of shyness +still strong within her the girl slipped round to the back, and passed +in through the chapel.</p> + +<p>The court was lighted by a link that flared beside one of the doorways +on the left, and a couple of great trunks lay below it. A servant came +out as she stood there hesitating, and she called to him softly to know +where was Mistress Atherton.</p> + +<p>“She is in the parlour, Mistress Margaret,” said the man.</p> + +<p>The girl went slowly across to the corner doorway, glancing at the +parlour windows as she passed; but the curtains were drawn on this side, +and she could catch no glimpse of the party within.</p> + +<p>The little entrance passage was dark; but she could hear a murmur of +voices as she stood there, still hesitating. Then she opened the door +suddenly, and went into the room.</p> + +<p>Her mother was speaking; and the girl heard those icy detached tones as +she looked round the group.</p> + +<p>“It must be very difficult for you, Mistress Atherton, in these days.”</p> + +<p>Margaret saw her father standing at the window-seat, and Chris beside +him; and in a moment saw that the faces of both were troubled and +uneasy.</p> + +<p>A tall girl was in the chair opposite, her hands lying easily on the +arms and her head thrown back almost negligently. She was well dressed, +with furs about her throat; her buckled feet were crossed before the +blaze, and her fingers shone with jewels. Her face was pale; her +scarlet lips were smiling, and there was a certain keen and genial +amusement in her black eyes.</p> + +<p>She looked magnificent, thought Margaret, still standing with her hand +on the door—too magnificent.</p> + +<p>Her father made a movement, it seemed of relief, as his daughter came +in; but Lady Torridon, very upright in her chair on this side, went on +immediately.</p> + +<p>—“With your opinions, Mistress Atherton, I mean. I suppose all that you +consider sacred is being insulted, in your eyes.”</p> + +<p>The tall girl glanced at Margaret with the amusement still in her face, +and then answered with a deliberate incisiveness that equalled Lady +Torridon’s own.</p> + +<p>“Not so difficult,” she said, “as for those who have no opinions.”</p> + +<p>There was a momentary pause; and then she added, as she stood up and Sir +James came forward.</p> + +<p>“I am very sorry for them, Mistress Torridon.”</p> + +<p>Before Lady Torridon could answer, Sir James had broken in.</p> + +<p>“This is my daughter Margaret, Mistress Atherton.”</p> + +<p>The two ladies saluted one another.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_4II">CHAPTER II<br><span class="small">A DUEL</span></h4></div> + + +<p>Margaret watched Beatrice with growing excitement that evening, in which +was mingled something of awe and something of attraction. She had never +seen anyone so serenely self-possessed.</p> + +<p>It became evident during supper, beyond the possibility of mistake, that +Lady Torridon had planned war against the guest, who was a +representative in her eyes of all that was narrow-minded and +contemptible. Here was a girl, she seemed to tell herself, who had had +every opportunity of emancipation, who had been singularly favoured in +being noticed by Ralph, and who had audaciously thrown him over for the +sake of some ridiculous scruples worthy only of idiots and nuns. Indeed +to Chris it was fairly plain that his mother had consented so willingly +to Beatrice’s visit with the express purpose of punishing her.</p> + +<p>But Beatrice held her own triumphantly.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>They had not sat down three minutes before Lady Torridon opened the +assault, with grave downcast face and in her silkiest manner. She went +abruptly back to the point where the conversation had been interrupted +in the parlour by Margaret’s entrance.</p> + +<p>“Mistress Atherton,” she observed, playing delicately with her spoon, “I +think you said that to your mind the times were difficult for those who +had no opinions.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice looked at her pleasantly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mistress Torridon; at least more difficult for those, than for the +others who know their own mind.”</p> + +<p>The other waited a moment, expecting the girl to justify herself, but +she was forced to go on.</p> + +<p>“Abbot Marshall knew his mind, but it was not easy for him.”</p> + +<p>(The news had just arrived of the Abbot’s execution).</p> + +<p>“Do you think not, mistress? I fear I still hold my opinion.”</p> + +<p>“And what do you mean by that?”</p> + +<p>“I mean that unless we have something to hold to, in these troublesome +times, we shall drift. That is all.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! and drift whither?”</p> + +<p>Beatrice smiled so genially as she answered, that the other had no +excuse for taking offence.</p> + +<p>“Well, it might be better not to answer that.”</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon looked at her with an impassive face.</p> + +<p>“To hell, then?” she said.</p> + +<p>“Well, yes: to hell,” said Beatrice.</p> + +<p>There was a profound silence; broken by the stifled merriment of a +servant behind the chairs, who transformed it hastily into a cough. Sir +James glanced across in great distress at his son; but Chris’ eyes +twinkled at him.</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon was silent a moment, completely taken aback by the +suddenness with which the battle had broken, and amazed by the girl’s +audacity. She herself was accustomed to use brutality, but not to meet +it. She laid her spoon carefully down.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” she said, “and you believe that? And for those who hold wrong +opinions, I suppose you would believe the same?”</p> + +<p>“If they were wrong enough,” said Beatrice, “and through their fault. +Surely we are taught to believe that, Mistress Torridon?”</p> + +<p>The elder woman said nothing at all, and went on with her soup. Her +silence was almost more formidable than her speech, and she knew that, +and contrived to make it offensive. Beatrice paid no sort of attention +to it, however; and without looking at her again began to talk +cheerfully to Sir James about her journey from town. Margaret watched +her, fascinated; her sedate beautiful face, her lace and jewels, her +white fingers, long and straight, that seemed to endorse the impression +of strength that her carriage and manner of speaking suggested; as one +might watch a swordsman between the rounds of a duel and calculate his +chances. She knew very well that her mother would not take her first +repulse easily; and waited in anxiety for the next clash of swords.</p> + +<p>Beatrice seemed perfectly fearless, and was talking about the King with +complete freedom, and yet with a certain discretion too.</p> + +<p>“He will have his way,” she said. “Who can doubt that?”</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon saw an opening for a wound, and leapt at it.</p> + +<p>“As he had with Master More,” she put in.</p> + +<p>Beatrice turned her head a little, but made no answer; and there was not +the shadow of wincing on her steady face.</p> + +<p>“As he had with Master More,” said Lady Torridon a little louder.</p> + +<p>“We must remember that he has my Lord Cromwell to help him,” observed +Beatrice tranquilly.</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon looked at her again. Even now she could scarcely believe +that this stranger could treat her with such a supreme indifference. And +there was a further sting, too, in the girl’s answer, for all there +understood the reference to Ralph; and yet again it was impossible to +take offence.</p> + +<p>Margaret looked at her father, half-frightened, and saw again a look of +anxiety in his eyes; he was crumbling his bread nervously as he answered +Beatrice.</p> + +<p>“My Lord Cromwell—” he began.</p> + +<p>“My Lord Cromwell has my son Ralph under him,” interrupted his wife. +“Perhaps you did not know that, Mistress Atherton.”</p> + +<p>Margaret again looked quickly up; but there was still no sign of wincing +on those scarlet lips, or beneath the black eyebrows.</p> + +<p>“Why, of course, I knew it,” said Beatrice, looking straight at her with +large, innocent eyes, “that was why—”</p> + +<p>She stopped; and Lady Torridon really roused now, made a false step.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” she said. “You did not end your sentence?”</p> + +<p>Beatrice cast an ironically despairing look behind her at the servants.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she said, “if you will have it: that was why I would not marry +him. Did you not know that, Mistress?”</p> + +<p>It was so daring that Margaret caught her breath suddenly; and looked +hopelessly round. Her father and brother had their eyes steadily bent on +the table; and the priest was looking oddly at the quiet angry woman +opposite him.</p> + +<p>Then Sir James slid deftly in, after a sufficient pause to let the +lesson sink home; and began to talk of indifferent things; and Beatrice +answered him with the same ease.</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon made one more attempt just before the end of supper, when +the servants had left the room.</p> + +<p>“You are living on—” she corrected herself ostentatiously—“you are +living with any other family now, Mistress Atherton? I remember my son +Ralph telling me you were almost one of Master More’s household.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice met her eyes with a delightful smile.</p> + +<p>“I am living on—with your family at this time, Mistress Torridon.”</p> + +<p>There was no more to be said just then. The girl had not only turned her +hostess’ point, but had pricked her shrewdly in riposte, three times; +and the last was the sharpest of all.</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon led the way to the oak parlour in silence.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>She made no more assaults that night; but sat in dignified aloofness, +her hands on her lap, with an air of being unconscious of the presence +of the others. Beatrice sat with Margaret on the long oak settle; and +talked genially to the company at large.</p> + +<p>When compline had been said, Sir James drew Chris aside into the +star-lit court as the others went on in front.</p> + +<p>“Dear lad,” he said, “what are we to do? This cannot go on. Your +mother—”</p> + +<p>Chris smiled at him, and took his arm a moment.</p> + +<p>“Why, father,” he said, “what more do we want? Mistress Atherton can +hold her own.”</p> + +<p>“But your mother will insult her.”</p> + +<p>“She will not be able,” said Chris. “Mistress Atherton will not have it. +Did you not see how she enjoyed it?”</p> + +<p>“Enjoyed it?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes; her eyes shone.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I must speak to her,” said Sir James, still perplexed. “Come with +me, Chris.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Carleton was just leaving the parlour as they came up to its +outside door. Sir James drew him into the yard. There were no secrets +between these two.</p> + +<p>“Father,” he said, “did you notice? Do you think Mistress Atherton will +be able to stay here?”</p> + +<p>He saw to his astonishment that the priest’s melancholy face, as the +starlight fell on it, was smiling.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes, Sir James. She is happy enough.”</p> + +<p>“But my wife—”</p> + +<p>“Sir James, I think Mistress Atherton may do her good. She—” he +hesitated.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said the old man.</p> + +<p>“She—Lady Torridon has met her match,” said the chaplain, still +smiling.</p> + +<p>Sir James made a little gesture of bewilderment.</p> + +<p>“Well, come in, Chris. I do not understand; but if you both think so—”</p> + +<p>He broke off and opened the door.</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon was gone to her room; and the two girls were alone. +Beatrice was standing before the hearth with her hands behind her +back—a gallant upright figure; as they came in, she turned a cheerful +face to them.</p> + +<p>“Your daughter has been apologising, Sir James,” she said; and there was +a ripple of amusement in her voice. “She thinks I have been hardly +treated.”</p> + +<p>She glanced at the bewildered Margaret, who was staring at her under her +delicate eyebrows with wide eyes of amazement and admiration.</p> + +<p>Sir James looked confused.</p> + +<p>“The truth is, Mistress Atherton, that I too—and my son—”</p> + +<p>“Well, not your son,” said Chris smiling.</p> + +<p>“You too!” cried Beatrice. “And how have I been hardly treated?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I thought perhaps, that what was said at supper—” began the old +man, beginning to smile too.</p> + +<p>“Lady Torridon, and every one, has been all that is hospitable,” said +Beatrice. “It is like old days at Chelsea. I love word-fencing; and +there are so few who practise it.”</p> + +<p>Sir James was still a little perplexed.</p> + +<p>“You assure me, Mistress, that you are not distressed by—by anything +that has passed?”</p> + +<p>“Distressed!” she cried. “Why, it is a real happiness!”</p> + +<p>But he was not yet satisfied.</p> + +<p>“You will engage to tell me then, if you think you are improperly +treated by—by anyone—?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes,” said the girl, smiling into his eyes. “But there is no need +to promise that. I am really happy; and I am sure your daughter and I +will be good friends.”</p> + +<p>She turned a little towards Margaret; and Chris saw a curious emotion of +awe and astonishment and affection in his sister’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“Come, my dear,” said Beatrice. “You said you would take me to my room.”</p> + +<p>Sir James hastened to push open the further door that led to the stairs; +and the two girls passed out together.</p> + +<p>Then he shut the door, and turned to his son. Chris had begun to laugh.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_4III">CHAPTER III<br><span class="small">A PEACE-MAKER</span></h4></div> + + +<p>It was a very strange household that Christmas at Overfield. Mary and +her husband came over with their child, and the entire party, with the +exception of the duellists themselves, settled down to watch the +conflict between Lady Torridon and Beatrice Atherton. Its prolongation +was possible because for days together the hostess retired into a +fortress of silence, whence she looked out cynically, shrugged her +shoulders, smiled almost imperceptibly, and only sallied when she found +she could not provoke an attack. Beatrice never made an assault; was +always ready for the least hint of peace; but guarded deftly and struck +hard when she was directly threatened. Neither would she ever take an +insult; the bitterest dart fell innocuous on her bright shield before +she struck back smiling; but there were some sharp moments of anxiety +now and again as she hesitated how to guard.</p> + +<p>A silence would fall suddenly in the midst of the talk and clatter at +table; there would be a momentary kindling of glances, as from the tall +chair opposite the chaplain a psychological atmosphere of peril made +itself felt; then the blow would be delivered; the weapons clashed; and +once more the talk rose high and genial over the battlefield.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The moment when Beatrice’s position in the house came nearest to being +untenable, was one morning in January, when the whole party were +assembled on the steps to see the sportsmen off for the day.</p> + +<p>Sir James was down with the foresters and hounds at the further end of +the terrace, arranging the details of the day; Margaret had not yet come +out of chapel, and Lady Torridon, who had had a long fit of silence, was +standing with Mary and Nicholas at the head of the central stairs that +led down from the terrace to the gravel.</p> + +<p>Christopher and Beatrice came out of the house behind, talking +cheerfully; for the two had become great friends since they had learnt +to understand one another, and Beatrice had confessed to him frankly +that she had been wrong and he right in the matter of Ralph. She had +told him this a couple of days after her arrival; but there had been a +certain constraint in her manner that forbade his saying much in answer. +Here they came then, now, in the frosty sunshine; he in his habit and +she in her morning house-dress of silk and lace, talking briskly.</p> + +<p>“I was sure you would understand, father,” she said, as they came up +behind the group.</p> + +<p>Then Lady Torridon turned and delivered her point, suddenly and +brutally.</p> + +<p>“Of course he will,” she said. “I suppose then you are not going out, +Mistress Atherton.” And she glanced with an offensive contempt at the +girl and the monk. Beatrice’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and +opened again.</p> + +<p>“Why, no, Lady Torridon.”</p> + +<p>“I thought not,” said the other; and again she glanced at the two—“for +I see the priest is not.”</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s silence. Nick was looking at his wife with a face +of dismay. Then Beatrice answered smiling.</p> + +<p>“Neither are you, dear Lady Torridon. Is not that enough to keep me?”</p> + +<p>A short yelp of laughter broke from Nicholas; and he stooped to examine +his boot.</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon opened her lips, closed them again, and turned her back on +the girl.</p> + +<p>“But you are cruel,” said Beatrice’s voice from behind, “and—”</p> + +<p>The woman turned once more venomously.</p> + +<p>“You do not want me,” she said. “You have taken one son of mine, and now +you would take the other. Is not my daughter enough?”</p> + +<p>Beatrice instantly stepped up, and put her hand on the other’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Dear Mistress,” she said; and her voice broke into tenderness; “she is +not enough—”</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon jerked her arm away.</p> + +<p>“Come, Mary,” she said.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Matters were a little better after that. Sir James was not told of the +incident; because his son knew very well that he would not allow +Beatrice to stay another day after the insult; but Chris felt himself +bound to consult those who had heard what had passed as to whether +indeed it was possible for her to remain. Nicholas grew crimson with +indignation and vowed it was impossible. Mary hesitated; and Chris +himself was doubtful. He went at last to Beatrice that same evening; and +found her alone in the oak parlour, before supper. The sportsmen had not +yet come back; and the other ladies were upstairs.</p> + +<p>Beatrice affected to treat it as nothing; and it was not till Chris +threatened to tell his father, that she told him all she thought.</p> + +<p>“I must seem a vain fool to say so;” she said, leaning back in her +chair, and looking up at him, “and perhaps insolent too; yet I must say +it. It is this: I believe that Lady Torridon—Ah! how can I say it?”</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” said Chris steadily, looking away from her.</p> + +<p>Beatrice shifted a little in her seat; and then stood up.</p> + +<p>“Well, it is this. I do not believe your mother is so—so—is what she +sometimes seems. I think she is very sore and angry; there are a hundred +reasons. I think no one has—has faced her before. She has been obeyed +too much. And—and I think that if I stay I may be able—I may be some +good,” she ended lamely.</p> + +<p>Chris nodded.</p> + +<p>“I understand,” he said softly.</p> + +<p>“Give me another week or two,” said Beatrice, “I will do my best.”</p> + +<p>“You have worked a miracle with Meg,” said Chris. “I believe you can +work another. I will not tell my father; and the others shall not +either.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>A wonderful change had indeed come to Margaret during the last month. +Her whole soul, so cramped now by circumstances, had gone out in +adoration towards this stranger. Chris found it almost piteous to watch +her—her shy looks, the shiver that went over her, when the brilliant +figure rustled into the room, or the brisk sentences were delivered from +those smiling lips. He would see too how their hands met as they sat +together; how Margaret would sit distracted and hungering for attention, +eyeing the ceiling, the carpet, her embroidery; and how her eyes would +leap to meet a glance, and her face flush up, as Beatrice throw her a +soft word or look.</p> + +<p>And it was the right love, too, to the monk’s eyes; not a rival flame, +but fuel for divine ardour. Margaret spent longer, not shorter, time at +her prayers; was more, not less, devout at mass and communion; and her +whole sore soul became sensitive and alive again. The winter had passed +for her; the time of the singing-birds was come.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>She was fascinated by the other’s gallant brilliance. Religion for the +nun had up to the present appeared a delicate thing that grew in the +shadow or in the warm shelter of the cloister; now it blossomed out in +Beatrice as a hardy bright plant that tossed its leaves in the wind and +exulted in sun and cold. Yet it had its evening tendernesses too, its +subtle fragrance when the breeze fell, its sweet colours and +outlines—Beatrice too could pray; and Margaret’s spiritual instinct, as +she knelt by her at the altar-rail or glanced at the other’s face as she +came down fresh with absolution from the chair in the sanctuary where +the chaplain sat, detected a glow of faith at least as warm as her own.</p> + +<p>She was astonished too at her friend’s gaiety; for she had expected, so +far as her knowledge of human souls led to expect anything, a quiet +convalescent spirit, recovering but slowly from the tragedy through +which Margaret knew she had passed. It seemed to her at first as if +Beatrice must be almost heartless, so little did she flinch when Lady +Torridon darted Ralph’s name at her, or Master More’s, or flicked her +suddenly where the wound ought to be; and it was not until the guest had +been a month in the house that the nun understood.</p> + +<p>They were together one evening in Margaret’s own white little room above +the oak parlour. Beatrice was sitting before the fire with her arms +clasped behind her head, waiting till the other had finished her office, +and looking round pleased in her heart, at the walls that told their +tale so plainly. It was almost exactly like a cell. A low oak bed, +red-blanketted, stood under the sloping roof, a prie-dieu beside it, and +a cheap little French image of St. Scholastica over it. There was a +table, with a sheet of white paper, a little ink-horn and two quills +primly side by side upon it; and at the back stood a couple of small +bound volumes in which the nun was accumulating little by little private +devotions that appealed to her. A pair of beads hung on a nail by the +window over which was drawn an old red curtain; two brass candlesticks +with a cross between them stood over the hearth, giving it a faint +resemblance to an altar. The boards were bare except for a strip of +matting by the bed; and the whole room, walls, floor, ceiling and +furniture were speckless and precise.</p> + +<p>Margaret made the sign of the cross, closed her book, and smiled at +Beatrice.</p> + +<p>“You dear child!” she answered.</p> + +<p>Margaret’s face shone with pleasure; and she put out her hand softly to +the other’s knee, and laid it there.</p> + +<p>“Talk to me,” said the nun.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Beatrice.</p> + +<p>“Tell me about your life in London. You never have yet, you know.”</p> + +<p>An odd look passed over the other’s face, and she dropped her eyes and +laid her hands together in her lap.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Meg,” she said, “I should love to tell you if I could. What would +you like to hear?”</p> + +<p>The nun looked at her wondering.</p> + +<p>“Why—everything,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Shall I tell you of Chelsea and Master More?”</p> + +<p>Margaret nodded, still looking at her; and Beatrice began.</p> + +<p>It was an extraordinary experience for the nun to sit there and hear +that wonderful tale poured out. Beatrice for the first time threw open +her defences—those protections of the sensitive inner life that she had +raised by sheer will—and showed her heart. She told her first of her +life in the country before she had known anything of the world; of her +father’s friendship with More when she was still a child, and of his +death when she was about sixteen. She had had money of her own, and had +come up to live with Mrs. More’s sisters; and so had gradually slipped +into intimacy at Chelsea. Then she described the life there—the ordered +beauty of it all—and the marvellous soul that was its centre and sun. +She told her of More’s humour, his unfailing gaiety, his sweet cynicism +that shot through his talk, his tender affections, and above all—for +she knew this would most interest the nun—his deep and resolute +devotion to God. She described how he had at one time lived at the +Charterhouse, and had seemed to regret, before the end of his life, that +he had not become a Carthusian; she told her of the precious parcel that +had been sent from the Tower to Chelsea the day before his death, and +how she had helped Margaret Roper to unfasten it and disclose the +hair-shirt that he had worn secretly for years, and which now he had +sent back for fear that it should be seen by unfriendly eyes or praised +by flattering tongues.</p> + +<p>Her face grew inexpressibly soft and loving as she talked; more than +once her black eyes filled with tears, and her voice faltered; and the +nun sat almost terrified at the emotion she had called up. It was hardly +possible that this tender feminine creature who talked so softly of +divine and human things and of the strange ardent lawyer in whom both +were so manifest, could be the same stately lady of downstairs who +fenced so gallantly, who never winced at a wound and trod so bravely +over sharp perilous ground.</p> + +<p>“They killed him,” said Beatrice. “King Henry killed him; for that he +could not bear an honest, kindly, holy soul so near his own. And we are +left to weep for him, of whom—of whom the world was not worthy.”</p> + +<p>Margaret felt her hand caught and caressed; and the two sat in silence a +moment.</p> + +<p>“But—but—” began the nun softly, bewildered by this revelation.</p> + +<p>“Yes, my dear; you did not know—how should you?—what a wound I carry +here—what a wound we all carry who knew him.”</p> + +<p>Again there was a short silence. Margaret was searching for some word of +comfort.</p> + +<p>“But you did what you could for him, did you not? And—and even Ralph, I +think I heard—”</p> + +<p>Beatrice turned and looked at her steadily. Margaret read in her face +something she could not understand.</p> + +<p>“Yes—Ralph?” said Beatrice questioningly.</p> + +<p>“You told father so, did you not? He did what he could for Master More?”</p> + +<p>Beatrice laid her other hand too over Margaret’s.</p> + +<p>“My dear; I do not know. I cannot speak of that.”</p> + +<p>“But you said—”</p> + +<p>“Margaret, my pet; you would not hurt me, would you? I do not think I +can bear to speak of that.”</p> + +<p>The nun gripped the other’s two hands passionately, and laid her cheek +against them.</p> + +<p>“Beatrice, I did not know—I forgot.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice stooped and kissed her gently.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The nun loved her tenfold more after that. It had been before a kind of +passionate admiration, such as a subject might feel for a splendid +queen; but the queen had taken this timid soul in through the +palace-gates now, into a little inner chamber intimate and apart, and +had sat with her there and shown her everything, her broken toys, her +failures; and more than all her own broken heart. And as, after that +evening, Margaret watched Beatrice again in public, heard her retorts +and marked her bearing, she knew that she knew something that the others +did not; she had the joy of sharing a secret of pain. But there was one +wound that Beatrice did not show her; that secret was reserved for one +who had more claim to it, and could understand. The nun could not have +interpreted it rightly.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Mary and Nicholas went back to Great Keynes at the end of January; and +Beatrice was out on the terrace with the others to see them go. Jim, the +little seven-year-old boy, had fallen in love with her, ever since he +had found that she treated him like a man, with deference and courtesy, +and did not talk about him in his presence and over his head. He was +walking with her now, a little apart, as the horses came round, and +explaining to her how it was that he only rode a pony at present, and +not a horse.</p> + +<p>“My legs would not reach, Mistress Atherton,” he said, protruding a +small leather boot. “It is not because I am afraid, or father either. I +rode Jess, the other day, but not astride.”</p> + +<p>“I quite understand,” said Beatrice respectfully, without the shadow of +laughter in her face.</p> + +<p>“You see—” began the boy.</p> + +<p>Then his mother came up.</p> + +<p>“Run, Jim, and hold my horse. Mistress Beatrice, may I have a word with +you?”</p> + +<p>The two turned and walked down to the end of the terrace again.</p> + +<p>“It is this,” said Mary, looking at the other from under her plumed hat, +with her skirt gathered up with her whip in her gloved hand. “I wished +to tell you about my mother. I have not dared till now. I have never +seen her so stirred in my life, as she is now. I—I think she will do +anything you wish in time. It is useless to feign that we do not +understand one another—anything you wish—come back to her Faith +perhaps; treat my father better. She—she loves you, I think; and yet +dare not—”</p> + +<p>“On Ralph’s account,” put in Beatrice serenely.</p> + +<p>“Yes; how did you know? It is on Ralph’s account. She cannot forgive +that. Can you say anything to her, do you think? Anything to explain? +You understand—”</p> + +<p>“I understand.”</p> + +<p>“I do not know how I dare say all this,” went on Mary blushing +furiously, “but I must thank you too for what you have done for my +sister. It is wonderful. I could have done nothing.”</p> + +<p>“My dear,” said Beatrice. “I love your sister. There is no need for +thanks.”</p> + +<p>A loud voice hailed them.</p> + +<p>“Sweetheart,” shouted Sir Nicholas, standing with his legs apart at the +mounting steps. “The horses are fretted to death.”</p> + +<p>“You will remember,” said Mary hurriedly, as they turned. “And—God +bless you, Beatrice!”</p> + +<p>Lady Torridon was indeed very quiet now. It was strange for the others +to see the difference. It seemed as if she had been conquered by the one +weapon that she could wield, which was brutality. As Mr. Carleton had +said, she had never been faced before; she had been accustomed to regard +devoutness as incompatible with strong character; she had never been +resisted. Both her husband and children had thought to conquer by +yielding; it was easier to do so, and appeared more Christian; and she +herself, like Ralph, was only provoked further by passivity. And now she +had met one of the old school, who was as ready in the use of worldly +weapons as herself; she had been ignored and pricked alternately, and +with astonishing grace too, by one who was certainly of that tone of +mind that she had gradually learnt to despise and hate.</p> + +<p>Chris saw this before his father; but he saw too that the conquest was +not yet complete. His mother had been cowed with respect, as a dog that +is broken in; she had not yet been melted with love. He had spoken to +Mary the day before the Maxwells’ departure, and tried to put this into +words; and Mary had seen where the opening for love lay, through which +the work could be done; and the result had been the interview with +Beatrice, and the mention of Ralph’s name. But Mary had not a notion how +Beatrice could act; she only saw that Ralph was the one chink in her +mother’s armour, and she left it to this girl who had been so adroit up +to the present, to find how to pierce it.</p> + +<p>Sir James had given up trying to understand the situation. He had for so +long regarded his wife as an irreconcilable that he hoped for nothing +better than to be able to keep her pacified; anything in the nature of a +conversion seemed an idle dream. But he had noticed the change in her +manner, and wondered what it meant; he hoped that the pendulum had not +swung too far, and that it was not she who was being bullied now by +this imperious girl from town.</p> + +<p>He said a word to Mr. Carleton one day about it, as they walked in the +garden.</p> + +<p>“Father,” he said, “I am puzzled. What has come to my wife? Have you not +noticed how she has not spoken for three days. Do you think she dislikes +Mistress Atherton. If I thought that—”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” said the priest. “I do not think it is that. I think it is +the other way about. She did dislike her—but not now.”</p> + +<p>“You do not think, Mistress Atherton is—is a little—discourteous and +sharp sometimes. I have wondered whether that was so. Chris thinks not, +however.”</p> + +<p>“Neither do I, sir. I think—I think it is all very well as it is. I +hope Mistress Atherton is to stay yet a while.”</p> + +<p>“She speaks of going in a week or two,” said the old man. “She has been +here six weeks now.”</p> + +<p>“I hope not,” said the priest, “since you have asked my opinion, sir.”</p> + +<p>Sir James sighed, looked at the other, and then left him, to search for +his wife and see if she wanted him. He was feeling a little sorry for +her.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>A week later the truth began to come out, and Beatrice had the +opportunity for which she was waiting.</p> + +<p>They were all gathered before the hall-fire expecting supper; the +painted windows had died with the daylight, and the deep tones of the +woodwork in gallery and floor and walls had crept out from the gloom +into the dancing flare of the fire and the steady glow of the sconces. +The weather had broken a day or two before; all the afternoon sheets of +rain had swept across the fields and gardens, and heavy cheerless +clouds marched over the sky. The wind was shrilling now against the +north side of the hall, and one window dripped a little inside on to the +matting below it. The supper-table shone with silver and crockery, and +the napkins by each place; and the door from the kitchen was set wide +for the passage of the servants, one of whom waited discreetly in the +opening for the coming of the lady of the house. They were all there but +she; and the minutes went by and she did not come.</p> + +<p>Sir James turned enquiringly as the door from the court opened, but it +was only a wet shivering dog who had nosed it open, and now crept +deprecatingly towards the blaze.</p> + +<p>“You poor beast,” said Beatrice, drawing her skirts aside. “Take my +place,” and she stepped away to allow him to come. He looked gratefully +up, wagged his rat-tail, and lay down comfortably at the edge of the +tiles.</p> + +<p>“My wife is very late,” said Sir James. “Chris—”</p> + +<p>He stopped as footsteps sounded in the flagged passage leading from the +living rooms; and the next moment the door was flung open, and a woman +ran forward with outstretched hands.</p> + +<p>“O! mon Dieu, mon Dieu!” she cried. “My lady is ill. Come, sir, come!”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_4IV">CHAPTER IV<br><span class="small">THE ELDER SON</span></h4></div> + + +<p>Ralph had prospered exceedingly since his return from the Sussex +Visitation. He had been sent on mission after mission by Cromwell, who +had learnt at last how wholly he could be trusted; and with each success +his reputation increased. It seemed to Cromwell that his man was more +whole-hearted than he had been at first; and when he was told abruptly +by Ralph that his relations with Mistress Atherton had come to an end, +the politician was not slow to connect cause and effect. He had always +regretted the friendship; it seemed to him that his servant’s character +was sure to be weakened by his alliance with a friend of Master More; +and though he had said nothing—for Ralph’s manner did not encourage +questions—he had secretly congratulated both himself and his agent for +so happy a termination to an unfortunate incident.</p> + +<p>For the meantime Ralph’s fortunes rose with his master’s; Lord Cromwell +now reigned in England next after the King in both Church and State. He +held a number of offices, each of which would have been sufficient for +an ordinary man, but all of which did not overtax his amazing energy. He +stood absolutely alone, with all the power in his hands; President of +the Star Chamber, Foreign Minister, Home-Minister, and the Vicar-General +of the Church; feared by Churchmen, distrusted by statesmen and nobles; +and hated by all except his own few personal friends—an unique figure +that had grown to gigantic stature through sheer effort and adroitness.</p> + +<p>And beneath his formidable shadow Ralph was waxing great. He had failed +to get Lewes for himself, for Cromwell designed it for Gregory his son; +but he was offered his choice among several other great houses. For the +present he hesitated to choose; uncertain of his future. If his father +died there would be Overfield waiting for him, so he did not wish to tie +himself to one of the far-away Yorkshire houses; if his father lived, he +did not wish to be too near him. There was no hurry, said Cromwell; +there would be houses and to spare for the King’s faithful servants; and +meantime it would be better for Mr. Torridon to remain in Westminster, +and lay his foundations of prosperity deeper and wider yet before +building. The title too that Cromwell dangled before him sometimes—that +too could wait until he had chosen his place of abode.</p> + +<p>Ralph felt that he was being magnificently treated by his master; and +his gratitude and admiration grew side by side with his rising fortune. +There was no niggardliness, now that Cromwell had learnt to trust in +him; he could draw as much money as he wished for the payment of his +under-agents, or for any other purpose; and no questions were asked.</p> + +<p>The little house at Westminster grew rich in treasures; his bed-coverlet +was the very cope he had taken from Rusper; his table was heavy with +chalices beaten into secular shape; his fire-screen was a Spanish +chasuble taken in the North. His servants were no longer three or four +sleeping in the house; there was a brigade of them, some that attended +for orders morning by morning, some that skirmished for him in the +country and returned rich in documents and hearsay; and a dozen waited +on his personal wants.</p> + +<p>He dealt too with great folks. Half a dozen abbots had been to see him +in the last year or two, stately prelates that treated him as an equal +and pleaded for his intercession; the great nobles, enemies of his +master and himself, eyed him with respectful suspicion as he walked with +Cromwell in Westminster Hall. The King had pulled his ears and praised +him; Ralph had stayed at Greenwich a week at a time when the execution +of the Benedictine abbots was under discussion; he had ridden down +Cheapside with Henry on his right and Cromwell beyond, between the +shouting crowds and beneath the wild tossing of gold-cloth and tapestry +and the windy pealing of a hundred brazen bells. He had gone up with +Norfolk to Doncaster, a mouth through which the King might promise and +threaten, and had strode up the steps beside the Duke to make an end of +the insurgent-leaders of the northern rebellion.</p> + +<p>He did not lack a goad, beside that of his own ambition, to drive him +through this desperate stir; he found a sufficient one in his memory. He +did not think much of his own family, except with sharp contempt. He did +not even trouble to make any special report about Chris or Margaret; but +it was impossible to remember Beatrice with contempt. When she had left +him kneeling at his table, she had left something besides—the sting of +her words, and the bitter coldness of her eyes.</p> + +<p>As he looked back he did not know whether he loathed her or loved her; +he only knew that she affected him profoundly. Again and again as he +dealt brutally with some timid culprit, or stood with his hand on his +hip to direct the destruction of a shrine, the memory whipped him on his +raw soul. He would show her whether he were a man or no; whether he +depended on her or no; whether her woman’s tongue could turn him or no.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He was exercised now with very different matters. Religious affairs for +the present had fallen into a secondary place, and home and foreign +politics absorbed most of Cromwell’s energies and time. Forces were +gathering once more against England, and the Catholic powers were coming +to an understanding with one another against the country that had thrown +off allegiance to the Pope and the Empire. There was an opportunity, +however, for Henry’s propensity to marriage once more to play a part in +politics; he had been three years without a wife; and Cromwell had +hastened for the third time to avail himself of the King’s passions as +an instrument in politics. He had understood that a union between +England and the Lutheran princes would cause a formidable obstacle to +Catholic machinations; and with this in view had excited Henry by a +description and a picture of the Lady Anne, daughter of the Duke of +Cleves and sister-in-law of the Elector of Saxony. He had been perfectly +successful in the first stages; the stout duchess had landed at Deal at +the end of December; and the marriage had been solemnised a few days +later. But unpleasant rumour had been busy ever since; it was whispered +far and wide that the King loathed his wife, and complained that he had +been deceived as to her charms; and Ralph, who was more behind the +scenes than most men, knew that the rumour was only too true. He had +been present at an abominable incident the day after the marriage had +taken place, when the King had stormed and raved about the council-room, +crying out that he had been deceived, and adding many gross details for +the benefit of his friends.</p> + +<p>Cromwell had been strangely moody ever since. Ralph had watched his +heavy face day after day staring vacantly across the room, and his hand +that held the pen dig and prick at the paper beneath it.</p> + +<p>Even that was not all. The Anglo-German alliance had provoked opposition +on the continent instead of quelling it; and Ralph saw more than one +threatening piece of news from abroad that hinted at a probable invasion +of England should Cromwell’s schemes take effect. These too, however, +had proved deceptive, and the Lutheran princes whom he had desired to +conciliate were even already beginning to draw back from the +consequences of their action.</p> + +<p>Ralph was in Cromwell’s room one day towards the end of January, when a +courier arrived with despatches from an agent who had been following the +Spanish Emperor’s pacific progress through France, undertaken as a kind +of demonstration against England.</p> + +<p>Cromwell tore open the papers, and glanced at them, running his quick +attentive eye over this page and that; and Ralph saw his face grow stern +and white. He tossed the papers on to the table, and nodded to the +courier to leave the room.</p> + +<p>Then he took up a pen, examined it; dashed it point down against the +table; gnawed his nails a moment, and then caught Ralph’s eye.</p> + +<p>“We are failing,” he said abruptly. “Mr. Torridon, if you are a rat you +had better run.”</p> + +<p>“I shall not run, sir,” said Ralph.</p> + +<p>“God’s Body!” said his master, “we shall all run together, I think;—but +not yet.”</p> + +<p>Then he took up the papers again, and began to read.</p> + +<p>It was a few days later that Ralph received the news of his mother’s +illness.</p> + +<p>She had written to him occasionally, telling him of his father’s +tiresome ways, his brother’s arrogance, his sister’s feeble piety, and +finally she had told him of Beatrice’s arrival.</p> + +<p>“I consented very gladly,” she had written, “for I thought to teach my +lady a lesson or two; but I find her very pert and obstinate. I do not +understand, my dear son, how you could have wished to make her your +wife; and yet I will grant that she has a taking way with her; she seems +to fear nothing but her own superstitions and folly, but I am very happy +to think that all is over between you. She never loved you, my Ralph; +for she cares nothing when I speak your name, as I have done two or +three times; nor yet Master More either. I think she has no heart.”</p> + +<p>Ralph had wondered a little as he read this, at his mother’s curious +interest in the girl; and he wondered too at the report of Beatrice’s +callousness. It was her damned pride, he assured himself.</p> + +<p>Then, one evening as he arrived home from Hackney where he had slept the +previous night, he found a messenger waiting for him. The letter had not +been sent on to him, as he had not left word where he was going.</p> + +<p>It contained a single line from his father.</p> + +<p>“Your mother is ill. Come at once. She wishes for you.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was in the stormy blackness of a February midnight that he rode up +through the lighted gatehouse to his home. Above the terrace as he came +up the road the tall hall-window glimmered faintly like a gigantic +luminous door hung in space; and the lower window of his father’s room +shone and faded as the fire leapt within.</p> + +<p>A figure rose up suddenly from before the hall-fire as he came in, +bringing with him a fierce gust of wet wind through the opened door; and +when he had slipped off his dripping cloak into his servant’s hands, he +saw that his father was there two yards away, very stern and white, with +outstretched hands.</p> + +<p>“My son,” said the old man, “you are too late. She died two hours ago.”</p> + +<p>It was a fierce shock, and for a moment he stood dazed, blinking at the +light, holding his father’s warm slender hands in his own, and trying to +assimilate the news. He had been driven inwards, and his obstinacy +weakened, during that long ride from town through the stormy sunset into +the black, howling night; memories had reasserted themselves on the +strength of his anxiety; and the past year or two slipped from him, and +left him again the eldest son of the house and of his two parents.</p> + +<p>Then as he looked into the pale bearded face before him, and the eyes +which had looked into his own a few months ago with such passionate +anger, he remembered all that was between them, dropped the hands and +went forward to the fire.</p> + +<p>His father followed him and stood by him there as he spread his fingers +to the blaze, and told him the details, in short detached sentences.</p> + +<p>She had been seized with pain and vomiting on the previous night at +supper time; the doctor had been sent for, and had declared the illness +to be an internal inflammation. She had grown steadily worse on the +following day, with periods of unconsciousness; she had asked for Ralph +an hour after she had been taken ill; the pain had seemed to become +fiercer as the hours went on; she had died at ten o’clock that night.</p> + +<p>Ralph stood there and listened, his head pressed against the high +mantelpiece, and his fingers stretching and closing mechanically to +supple the stiffened joints.</p> + +<p>“Mistress Atherton was with her all the while,” said his father; “she +asked for her.”</p> + +<p>Ralph shot a glance sideways, and down again.</p> + +<p>“And—” he began.</p> + +<p>“Yes; she was shriven and anointed, thank God; she could not receive +Viaticum.”</p> + +<p>Ralph did not know whether he was glad or sorry at that news. It was a +proper proceeding at any rate; as proper as the candles and the shroud +and the funeral rites. As regards grief, he did not feel it yet; but he +was aware of a profound sensation in his soul, as of a bruise.</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment or two; then the wind bellowed suddenly +in the chimney, the tall window gave a crack of sound, and the smoke +eddied out into the room. Ralph turned round.</p> + +<p>“They are with her still,” said Sir James; “we can go up presently.”</p> + +<p>The other shook his head abruptly.</p> + +<p>“No,” he said, “I will wait until to-morrow. Which is my room?”</p> + +<p>“Your old room,” said his father. “I have had a truckle-bed set there +for your man. Will you find your way? I must stay here for Mistress +Atherton.”</p> + +<p>Ralph nodded sharply, and went out, down the hill.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was half an hour more before Beatrice appeared; and then Sir James +looked up from his chair at the sound of a footstep and saw her coming +up the matted floor. Her face was steady and resolute, but there were +dark patches under her eyes, for she had not slept for two nights.</p> + +<p>Sir James stood up, and held out his hands.</p> + +<p>“Ralph has come,” he said. “He is gone to his room. Where are the +others?”</p> + +<p>“The priests are at prayers and Meg too,” she said. “It is all ready, +sir. You may go up when you please.”</p> + +<p>“I must say a word first,” said Sir James. “Sit down, Mistress +Atherton.”</p> + +<p>He drew forward his chair for her; and himself stood up on the hearth, +leaning his head on his hand and looking down into the fire.</p> + +<p>“It is this,” he said: “May our Lord reward you for what you have done +for us.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice was silent.</p> + +<p>“You know she asked my pardon,” he said, “when we were left alone +together. You do not know what that means. And she gave me her +forgiveness for all my folly—”</p> + +<p>Beatrice drew a sharp breath in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>“We have both sinned,” he went on; “we did not understand one another; +and I feared we should part so. That we have not, we have to thank +you—”</p> + +<p>His old voice broke suddenly; and Beatrice heard him draw a long sobbing +breath. She knew she ought to speak, but her brain was bewildered with +the want of sleep and the long struggle; she could not think of a word +to say; she felt herself on the verge of hysteria.</p> + +<p>“You have done it all,” he said again presently. “She took all that Mr. +Carleton said patiently enough, he told me. It is all your work. +Mistress Atherton—”</p> + +<p>She looked up questioningly with her bright tired eyes.</p> + +<p>“Mistress Atherton; may I know what you said to her?”</p> + +<p>Beatrice made a great effort and recovered her self-control.</p> + +<p>“I answered her questions,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Questions? Did she ask you of the Faith? Did she speak of me? Am I +asking too much?”</p> + +<p>Beatrice shook her head. For a moment again she could not speak.</p> + +<p>“I am asking what I should not,” said the old man.</p> + +<p>“No, no,” cried the girl, “you have a right to know. Wait, I will tell +you—”</p> + +<p>Again she broke off, and felt her own breath begin to sob in her throat. +She buried her face in her hands a moment.</p> + +<p>“God forgive me,” said the other. “I—”</p> + +<p>“It was about your son Ralph,” said Beatrice bravely, though her lips +shook.</p> + +<p>“She—she asked whether I had ever loved him at all—and—”</p> + +<p>“Mistress Beatrice, Mistress Beatrice, I entreat you not to say more.”</p> + +<p>“And I told her—yes; and, yes—still.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_4V">CHAPTER V<br><span class="small">THE MUMMERS</span></h4></div> + + +<p>It was a strange meeting for Beatrice and Ralph the next morning. She +saw him first from the gallery in chapel at mass, kneeling by his +father, motionless and upright, and watched him go down the aisle when +it was over. She waited a few minutes longer, quieting herself, +marshalling her forces, running her attention over each movement or word +that might prove unruly in his presence; and then she got up from her +knees and went down.</p> + +<p>It had been an intolerable pain to tell the dying woman that she loved +her son; it tore open the wound again, for she had never yet spoken that +secret aloud to any living soul, not even to her own. When the question +came, as she knew it would, she had not hesitated an instant as to the +answer, and yet the answer had materialised what had been impalpable +before.</p> + +<p>As she had looked down from the gallery this morning she knew that she +hated, in theory, every detail of his outlook on life; he was brutal, +insincere; he had lied to her; he was living on the fruits of sacrilege; +he had outraged every human tie he possessed; and yet she loved every +hair of his dark head, every movement of his strong hands. It was that +that had broken down the mother’s reserve; she had been beaten by the +girl’s insolence, as a dog is beaten into respect; she had only one +thing that she had not been able to forgive, and that was that this +girl had tossed aside her son’s love; then the question had been asked +and answered; and the work had been done. The dying woman had +surrendered wholly to the superior personality; and had obeyed like a +child.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>She had a sense of terrible guilt as she went downstairs into the +passage that opened on the court; the fact that she had put into words +what had lain in her heart, made her fancy that the secret was written +on her face. Then again she drove the imagination down by sheer will; +she knew that she had won back her self-control, and could trust her own +discretion.</p> + +<p>Their greeting was that of two acquaintances. There was not the tremor +of an eyelid of either, or a note in either voice, that betrayed that +their relations had once been different. Ralph thanked her courteously +for her attention to his mother; and she made a proper reply. Then they +all sat down to breakfast.</p> + +<p>Then Margaret had to be attended to, for she was half-wild with remorse; +she declared to Beatrice when they went upstairs together that she had +been a wicked daughter, that she had resented her mother’s words again +and again, had behaved insolently, and so forth. Beatrice took her in +her arms.</p> + +<p>“My dear,” she said, “indeed you must leave all that now. Come and see +her; she is at peace, and you must be.”</p> + +<p>The bedroom where Lady Torridon had died was arranged as a <i>chapelle +ardente;</i> the great bed had been moved out into the centre of the room. +Six tall candlesticks with escutcheons and yellow tapers formed a +slender mystical wall of fire and light about it; the windows were +draped; a couple of kneeling desks were set at the foot of the bed. +Chris was kneeling at one beside his father as they went in, and Mary +Maxwell, who had arrived a few hours before death had taken place, was +by herself in a corner.</p> + +<p>Beatrice drew Margaret to the second desk, pushed the book to her, and +knelt by her. There lay the body of the strange, fierce, lonely woman, +with her beautiful hands crossed, pale as wax, with a crucifix between +them; and those great black eyebrows beyond, below which lay the double +reverse curve of the lashes. It seemed as if she was watching them both, +as her manner had been in life, with a tranquil cynicism.</p> + +<p>And was she at peace, thought Beatrice, as she had told her daughter +just now? Was it possible to believe that that stormy, vicious spirit +had been quieted so suddenly? And yet that would be no greater miracle +than that which death had wrought to the body. If the one was so still, +why not the other? At least she had asked pardon of her husband for +those years of alienation; she had demanded the sacraments of the +Church!</p> + +<p>Beatrice bowed her head, and prayed for the departed soul.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>She was disturbed by the soft opening of a door, and lifted her eyes to +see Ralph stand a moment by the head of the bed, before he sank on his +knees. She could watch every detail of his face in the candlelight; his +thin tight lips, his heavy eyebrows so like his mother’s, his curved +nostrils, the clean sharp line of his jaw.</p> + +<p>She found herself analysing his processes of thought. His mother had +been the one member of his family with whom he had had sympathy; they +understood one another, these two bitter souls, as no one else did, +except perhaps Beatrice herself. How aloof they had stood from all +ordinary affections; how keen must have been their dual loneliness! And +what did this snapped thread mean to him now? To what, in his opinion, +did the broken end lead that had passed out from the visible world to +the invisible? Did he think that all was over, and that the one soul +that had understood his own had passed like a candle flame into the +dark? And she too—was she crying for her son, a thin soundless sobbing +in the world beyond sight? Above all, did he understand how alone he was +now—how utterly, eternally alone, unless he turned his course?</p> + +<p>A great well of pity broke up and surged in her heart, flooding her eyes +with tears, as she looked at the living son and the dead mother; and she +dropped her head on her hands again, and prayed for his soul as well as +for hers.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was a very strange atmosphere in the house during the day or two that +passed before the funeral. The household met at meals and in the parlour +and chapel, but seldom at other times. Ralph was almost invisible; and +silent when he appeared. There were no explanations on either side; he +behaved with a kind of distant courtesy to the others, answered their +questions, volunteered a word or two sometimes; made himself useful in +small ways as regarded giving orders to the servants, inspecting the +funeral standard and scutcheons, and making one or two arrangements +which fell to him naturally; and went out by himself on horseback or on +foot during the afternoon. His contempt seemed to have fallen from him; +he was as courteous to Chris as to the others; but no word was spoken on +either side as regarded either the past and the great gulf that +separated him from the others, or the future relations between him and +his home.</p> + +<p>The funeral took place three days after death, on the Saturday morning; +a requiem was sung in the presence of the body in the parish church; and +Beatrice sat with the mourners in the Torridon chapel behind the black +hearse set with lights, before the open vault in the centre of the +pavement. Ralph sat two places beyond her, with Sir James between; and +she was again vividly conscious of his presence, of his movements as he +knelt and sat; and again she wondered what all the solemn ceremonies +meant to him, the yellow candles, the black vestments, the mysterious +hallowing of the body with incense and water—counteracting, as it were, +with fragrance and brightness, the corruption and darkness of the grave.</p> + +<p>She walked back with Margaret, who clung to her now, almost desperately, +finding in her sane serenity an antidote to her own remorse; and as she +walked through the garden and across the moat, with Nicholas and Mary +coming behind, she watched the three men going in front, Sir James in +the middle, the monk on his left, and the slow-stepping Ralph on his +right, and marvelled at the grim acting.</p> + +<p>There they went, the father and his two sons, side by side in courteous +silence—she noticed Ralph step forward to lift the latch of the +garden-gate for the others to pass through—and between them lay an +impassable gulf; she found herself wondering whether the other gulf that +they had looked into half an hour before were so deep or wide.</p> + +<p>She was out again with Sir James alone in the evening before supper, and +learnt from him then that Ralph was to stay till Monday.</p> + +<p>“He has not spoken to me of returning again,” said the old man. “Of +course it is impossible. Do you not think so, Mistress Atherton.”</p> + +<p>“It is impossible,” she said. “What good would be served?”</p> + +<p>“What good?” repeated the other.</p> + +<p>The evening was falling swiftly, layer on layer of twilight, as they +turned to come back to the house. The steeple of the church rose up on +their left, slender and ghostly against the yellow sky, out of the black +yews and cypresses that lay banked below it. They stopped and looked at +it a moment, as it aspired to heaven from the bones that lay about its +base, like an eternal resurrection wrought in stone. There all about it +were the mortal and the dead; the stones and iron slabs leaned, as they +knew, in hundreds about the grass; and round them again stood the roofs, +beginning now to kindle under the eaves, where the living slept and ate. +There was a rumbling of heavy carts somewhere beyond the village, a +crack or two of a whip, the barking of a dog.</p> + +<p>Then they turned again and went up to the house.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was the chaplain who was late this evening for supper. The others +waited a few minutes by the fire, but there was no sign of him. A +servant was sent up to his room and came back to report that he had +changed his cassock and gone out; a boy had come from the parish-priest, +said the man, ten minutes before, and Mr. Carleton had probably been +sent for.</p> + +<p>They waited yet five minutes, but the priest did not appear, and they +sat down. Supper was nearly over before he came. He came in by the +side-door from the court, splashed with mud, and looking pale and +concerned. He went straight up to Sir James.</p> + +<p>“May I speak with you, sir?” he said.</p> + +<p>The old man got up at once, and went down the hall with him.</p> + +<p>The rest waited, expecting them to return, but there was no sign of +them; and Ralph at last rose and led the way to the oak-parlour. As they +passed the door of Sir James’s room they heard the sound of voices +within.</p> + +<p>Conversation was a very difficult matter that evening. Ralph had behaved +with considerable grace and tact, but Nicholas had not responded. Ever +since his arrival on the day before the funeral he had eyed Ralph like a +strange dog intruded into a house; Mary had hovered round her husband, +watchful and anxious, stepping hastily into gaps in the conversation, +sliding in a sentence or two as Nicholas licked his lips in preparation +for a snarl; once even putting her hand swiftly on his and drowning a +growl with a word of her own. Ralph had been wonderfully +self-controlled; only once had Beatrice seen him show his teeth for a +moment as his brother-in-law had scowled more plainly than usual.</p> + +<p>The atmosphere was charged to-night, now that the master of the house +was away; and as Ralph took his seat in his father’s chair, Beatrice had +caught her breath for a moment as she saw the look on Nicholas’s face. +It seemed as if the funeral had lifted a stone that had hitherto held +the two angry spirits down; Nicholas, after all, was but a son-in-law, +and Ralph, to his view at least, a bad son. She feared that both might +think that a quarrel did not outrage decency; but she feared for +Nicholas more than for Ralph.</p> + +<p>Ralph appeared not to notice the other’s scowl, and leaned easily back, +his head against the carved heraldry, and rapped his fingers softly and +rhythmically on the bosses of the arms.</p> + +<p>Then she heard Nicholas draw a slow venomous breath; and the talk died +on Mary’s lips. Beatrice stood up abruptly, in desperation; she did not +know what to say; but the movement checked Nicholas, and he glanced at +her a moment. Then Mary recovered herself, put her hand sharply on her +husband’s, and slid out an indifferent sentence. Beatrice saw Ralph’s +eyes move swiftly and sideways and down again, and a tiny wrinkle of a +smile show itself at the corners of his mouth. But that danger was +passed; and a minute later they heard the door of Sir James’s room +opposite open, and the footsteps of the two men come out.</p> + +<p>Ralph stood up at once as his father came in, followed by the priest, +and stepped back to the window-seat; there was the faintest hint in the +slight motion of his hands to the effect that he had held his post as +the eldest son until the rightful owner came. But the consciousness of +it in Beatrice’s mind was swept away as she looked at the old man, +standing with a white stern face and his hands clenched at his sides. +She could see that something impended, and stood up quickly.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Carleton has brought shocking news,” he said abruptly; and his eyes +wandered to his eldest son standing in the shadow of the curtain. “A +company of mummers has arrived in the village—they—they are to give +their piece to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>There was a dead silence for a moment, for all knew what this meant.</p> + +<p>Nicholas sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p>“By God, they shall not!” he said.</p> + +<p>Sir James lifted his hand sharply.</p> + +<p>“We cannot hinder it,” he said. “The priests have done what they can. +The fellow tells them—” he paused, and again his eyes wandered to +Ralph—“the fellow tells them he is under the protection of my Lord +Cromwell.”</p> + +<p>There was a swift rustle in the room. Nicholas faced sharply round to +the window-seat, his hands clenched and his face quivering. Ralph did +not move.</p> + +<p>“Tell them, father,” said Sir James.</p> + +<p>The chaplain gave his account. He had been sent for by the parish priest +just before supper, and had gone with him to the barn that had been +hired for the performance. The carts had arrived that evening from +Maidstone; and were being unpacked. He had seen the properties; they +were of the usual kind—all the paraphernalia for the parody of the Mass +that was usually given by such actors. He had seen the vestments, the +friar’s habit, the red-nosed mask, the woman’s costume and wig—all the +regular articles. The manager had tried to protest against the priests’ +entrance; had denied at first that any insult was intended to the +Catholic Religion; and had finally taken refuge in defiance; he had +flung out the properties before their eyes; had declared that no one +could hinder him from doing as he pleased, since the Archbishop had not +protested; and Lord Cromwell had given him his express sanction.</p> + +<p>“We did all we were able,” said the priest. “Master Rector said he would +put all the parishioners who came, under the ban of the Church; the +fellow snapped his fingers in his face. I told them of Sir James’s +wishes; the death of my Lady—it was of no avail. We can do nothing.”</p> + +<p>The priest’s sallow face was flushed with fury as he spoke; and his lips +trembled piteously with horror and pain. It was the first time that the +mummers had been near Overfield; they had heard tales of them from other +parts of the country, but had hoped that their own village would escape +the corruption. And now it had come.</p> + +<p>He stood shaking, as he ended his account.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Carleton says it would be of no avail for me to go down myself. I +wished to. We can do nothing.”</p> + +<p>Again he glanced at Ralph, who had sat down silently in the shadow while +the priest talked.</p> + +<p>Nicholas could be restrained no longer. He shook off his wife’s hand and +took a step across the room.</p> + +<p>“And you—you sit there, you devil!” he shouted.</p> + +<p>Sir James was with him in a moment, so swiftly that Beatrice did not see +him move. Margaret was clinging to her now, whispering and sobbing.</p> + +<p>“Nick,” snapped out the old man, “hold your tongue, sir. Sit down.”</p> + +<p>“God’s Blood!” bellowed the squire. “You bid me sit down.”</p> + +<p>Sir James gripped him so fiercely that he stepped back.</p> + +<p>“I bid you sit down,” he said. “Ralph, will you help us?”</p> + +<p>Ralph stood up instantly. He had not stirred a muscle as Nick shouted at +him.</p> + +<p>“I waited for that, sir,” he said. “What is it you would have me do?”</p> + +<p>Beatrice saw that his face was quite quiet as he spoke; his eyelids +drooped a little; and his mouth was tight and firm. He seemed not to be +aware of Nicholas’s presence.</p> + +<p>“To hinder the play-acting,” said his father.</p> + +<p>There fell a dead silence again.</p> + +<p>“I will do it, sir,” said his son. “It—it is but decent.”</p> + +<p>And in the moment of profound astonishment that fell, he came straight +across the room, passed by them all without turning his head, and went +out.</p> + +<p>Beatrice felt a fierce emotion grip her throat as she looked after him, +and saw the door close. Then Margaret seized her again, and she turned +to quiet her.</p> + +<p>She was aware that Sir James had gone out after his son, after a moment +of silence, and she heard his footsteps pass along the flags outside.</p> + +<p>“Oh! God bless him!” sobbed Margaret.</p> + +<p>Sir James came back immediately, shook his head, went across the room, +and sat down in the seat that Ralph had left. A dreadful stillness fell. +Margaret was quiet now. Mary was sitting with her husband on the other +side of the hearth. Chris rose presently and sat down by his father, but +no one spoke a word.</p> + +<p>Then Nicholas got up uneasily, came across the room, and stood with his +back to the hearth warming himself. Beatrice saw him glance now and +again to the shadowed window-seat where the two men sat; he hummed a +note or two to himself softly; then turned round and stared at the fire +with outstretched hands.</p> + +<p>The bell rang for prayers, and still without a word being spoken they +all got up and went out.</p> + +<p>In the same silence they came back. Ralph’s servant was standing by the +door as they entered.</p> + +<p>“If you please, sir, Mr. Ralph is come in. He bade me tell you that all +is arranged.”</p> + +<p>The old man looked at him, swallowed once in his throat; and at last +spoke.</p> + +<p>“It is arranged, you say? It will not take place?”</p> + +<p>“It will not take place, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Where is Mr. Ralph?”</p> + +<p>“He is gone to his room, sir. He bade me tell you he would be leaving +early for London.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_4VI">CHAPTER VI<br><span class="small">A CATASTROPHE</span></h4></div> + + +<p>Ralph rode away early next morning, yet not so early as to escape an +interview with his father. They met in the hall, Sir James in his loose +morning gown and Ralph booted and spurred with his short cloak and tight +cap. The old man took him by the sleeve, drawing him to the fire that +burned day and night in winter.</p> + +<p>“Ralph—Ralph, my son,” he said, “I must thank you for last night.”</p> + +<p>“You have to thank yourself only, sir, and my mother. I could do no +otherwise.”</p> + +<p>“It is you—” began his father.</p> + +<p>“It is certainly not Nick, sir. The hot fool nearly provoked me.”</p> + +<p>“But you hate such mummery yourself, my son?”</p> + +<p>Ralph hesitated.</p> + +<p>“It is not seemly—” began his father again.</p> + +<p>“It is certainly not seemly; but neither are the common folk seemly.”</p> + +<p>“Did you have much business with them, my son?” Ralph smiled in the +firelight.</p> + +<p>“Why, no, sir. I told them who I was. I charged myself with the burden.”</p> + +<p>“And you will not be in trouble with my Lord?”</p> + +<p>“My Lord has other matters to think of than a parcel of mummers.”</p> + +<p>Then they separated; and Ralph rode down the drive with his servants +behind him. Neither father nor son had said a word of any return. +Neither had Ralph had one private word with Beatrice during his three +days’ stay. Once he had come into the parlour to find her going out at +the other door; and he had wondered whether she had heard his step and +gone out on purpose. But he knew very well that under the superficial +courtesy between him and her there lay something deeper—some passionate +emotion vibrated like a beam between them; but he did not know, even on +his side and still less on hers, whether that emotion were one of love +or loathing. It was partly from the discomfort of the charged +atmosphere, partly from a shrinking from thanks and explanations that he +had determined to go up to London a day earlier than he had intended; he +had a hatred of personal elaborateness.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He found Cromwell, on his arrival in London, a little less moody than he +had been in the previous week; for he was busy with preparations for the +Parliament that was to meet in April; and to the occupation that this +gave him there was added a good deal of business connected with Henry’s +negotiations with the Emperor. The dispute, that at present centred +round the treatment of Englishmen in Spain, and other similar matters, +in reality ran its roots far deeper; and there were a hundred details +which occupied the minister. But there was still a hint of storm in the +air; Cromwell spoke brusquely once or twice without cause, and Ralph +refrained from saying anything about the affair at Overfield, but took +up his own work again quietly.</p> + +<p>A fortnight later, however, he heard of it once more.</p> + +<p>He was sitting at a second table in Cromwell’s own room in the Rolls +House, when one of the secretaries came up with a bundle of reports, and +laid them as usual before Ralph.</p> + +<p>Ralph finished the letter he was engaged on—one to Dr. Barnes who had +preached a Protestant sermon at Paul’s Cross, and who now challenged +Bishop Gardiner to a public disputation. Ralph was telling him to keep +his pugnacity to himself; and when he had done took up the reports and +ran his eyes over them.</p> + +<p>They were of the usual nature—complaints, informations, protests, +appeals from men of every rank of life; agents, farm-labourers, priests, +ex-Religious, fanatics—and he read them quickly through, docketing +their contents at the head of each that his master might be saved +trouble.</p> + +<p>At one, however, he stopped, glanced momentarily at Cromwell, and then +read on.</p> + +<p>It was an illiterate letter, ill-spelt and smudged, and consisted of a +complaint from a man who signed himself Robert Benham, against “Mr. +Ralph Torridon, as he named himself,” for hindering the performance of a +piece entitled “The Jolly Friar” in the parish of Overfield, on Sunday, +February the first. Mr. Torridon, the writer stated, had used my Lord +Cromwell’s name and authority in stopping the play; expenses had been +incurred in connection with it, for a barn had been hired, and the +transport of the properties had cost money; and Mr. Benham desired to +know whether these expenses would be made good to him, and if Mr. +Torridon had acted in accordance with my Lord’s wishes.</p> + +<p>Ralph bit his pen in some perplexity, when he had finished making out +the document. He wondered whether he had better show it to Cromwell; it +might irritate him or not, according to his mood. If it was destroyed +surely no harm would be done; and yet Ralph had a disinclination to +destroy it. He sat a moment or two longer considering; once he took the +paper by the corners to tear it; then laid it down again; glanced once +more at the heavy intent face a couple of yards away, and then by a +sudden impulse took up his pen and wrote a line on the corner explaining +the purport of the paper, initialled it, and laid it with the rest.</p> + +<p>Cromwell was so busy during the rest of the day that there was no +opportunity to explain the circumstances to him; indeed he was hardly in +the room again, so great was the crowd that waited on him continually +for interviews, and Ralph went away, leaving the reports for his chief +to examine at his leisure.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The next morning there was a storm.</p> + +<p>Cromwell burst out on him as soon as he came in.</p> + +<p>“Shut the door, Mr. Torridon,” he snapped. “I must have a word with +you.”</p> + +<p>Ralph closed the door and came across to Cromwell’s table and stood +there, apparently imperturbable, but with a certain quickening of his +pulse.</p> + +<p>“What is this, sir?” snarled the other, taking up the letter that was +laid at his hand. “Is it true?”</p> + +<p>Ralph looked at him coolly.</p> + +<p>“What is it, my Lord? Mr. Robert Benham?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mr. Robert Benham. Is it true? I wish an answer.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, my Lord. It is true.”</p> + +<p>“You hindered this piece being played? And you used my name?”</p> + +<p>“I told them who I was—yes.”</p> + +<p>Cromwell slapped the paper down.</p> + +<p>“Well, that is to use my name, is it not, Mr. Torridon?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose it is.”</p> + +<p>“You suppose it is! And tell me, if you please, why you hindered it.”</p> + +<p>“I hindered it because it was not decent. My mother had been buried +that day. My father asked me to do so.”</p> + +<p>“Not decent! When the mummers have my authority!</p> + +<p>“If your Lordship does not understand the indecency, I cannot explain +it.”</p> + +<p>Ralph was growing angry now. It was not often that Cromwell treated him +like a naughty boy; and he was beginning to resent it.</p> + +<p>The other stared at him under black brows.</p> + +<p>“You are insolent, sir.”</p> + +<p>Ralph bowed.</p> + +<p>“See here,” said Cromwell, “my men must have no master but me. They must +leave houses and brethren and sisters for my sake. You should understand +that by now; and that I repay them a hundredfold. You have been long +enough in my service to know it. I have said enough. You can sit down, +Mr. Torridon.”</p> + +<p>Ralph went to his seat in a storm of fury. He felt he was supremely in +the right—in the right in stopping the play, and still more so for not +destroying the complaint when it was in his hands. He had been scolded +like a school-child, insulted and shouted down. His hand shook as he +took up his pen, and he kept his back resolutely turned to his master. +Once he was obliged to ask him a question, and he did so with an icy +aloofness. Cromwell answered him curtly, but not unkindly, and he went +to his seat again still angry.</p> + +<p>When dinner-time came near, he rose, bowed slightly to Cromwell and went +towards the door. As his fingers touched the handle he heard his name +called; and turned round to see the other looking at him oddly.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Torridon—you will dine with me?”</p> + +<p>“I regret I cannot, my Lord,” said Ralph; and went out of the room.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There were no explanations or apologies on either side when they met +again; but in a few days their behaviour to one another was as usual. +Yet underneath the smooth surface Ralph’s heart rankled and pricked with +resentment.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>At the meeting of Parliament in April, the business in Cromwell’s hands +grew more and more heavy and distracting.</p> + +<p>Ralph went with him to Westminster, and heard him deliver his eloquent +little speech on the discord that prevailed in England, and the King’s +determination to restore peace and concord.</p> + +<p>“On the Word of God,” cried the statesman, speaking with extraordinary +fervour, his eyes kindling as he looked round the silent crowded +benches, and his left hand playing with his chain. “On the Word of God +His Highness’ princely mind is fixed; on this Word he depends for his +sole support; and with all his might his Majesty will labour that error +shall be taken away, and true doctrines be taught to his people, +modelled by the rule of the Gospel.”</p> + +<p>Three days later when Ralph came into his master’s room, Cromwell looked +up at him with a strange animation in his dark eyes.</p> + +<p>“Good-day, sir,” he said; “I have news that I hope will please you. His +Grace intends to confer on me one more mark of his favour. I am to be +Earl of Essex.”</p> + +<p>It was startling news. Ralph had supposed that the minister was not +standing so high with the King as formerly, since the unfortunate +incident of the Cleves marriage. He congratulated him warmly.</p> + +<p>“It is a happy omen,” said the other. “Let us pray that it be a +constellation and not a single star. There are others of my friends, Mr. +Torridon, who have claim to His Highness’ gratitude.”</p> + +<p>He looked at him smiling; and Ralph felt his heart quicken once more, as +it always did, at the hint of an honour for himself.</p> + +<p>The business of Parliament went on; and several important bills became +law. A land-act was followed by one that withdrew from most of the towns +of England the protection of a sanctuary in the case of certain +specified crimes; the navy was dealt with; and then in spite of the +promises of the previous years a heavy money-bill was passed. Finally +five more Catholics, four priests and a woman, were attainted for high +treason on various charges.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Ralph was not altogether happy as May drew on. There began to be signs +that his master’s policy with regard to the Cleves alliance was losing +ground in the councils of the State; but Cromwell himself seemed to +acquiesce, so it appeared as if his own mind was beginning to change. +There was a letter to Pate, the ambassador to the Emperor, that Ralph +had to copy one day, and he gathered from it that conciliation was to be +used towards Charles in place of the old defiance.</p> + +<p>But he did not see much of Parliament affairs this month.</p> + +<p>Cromwell had told him to sort a large quantity of private papers that +had gradually accumulated in Ralph’s own house at Westminster; for that +he desired the removal of most of them to his own keeping.</p> + +<p>They were an enormous mass of documents, dealing with every sort and +kind of the huge affairs that had passed through Cromwell’s hands for +the last five years. They concerned hundreds of persons, living and +dead—statesmen, nobles, the foreign Courts, priests, Religious, +farmers, tradesmen—there was scarcely a class that was not represented +there.</p> + +<p>Ralph sat hour after hour in his chair with locked doors, sorting, +docketting, and destroying; and amazed by this startling object-lesson +of the vast work in which he had had a hand. There were secrets there +that would burst like a bomb if they were made public—intrigues, +bribes, threats, revelations; and little by little a bundle of the most +important documents accumulated on the table before him. The rest lay in +heaps on the floor.</p> + +<p>Those that he had set aside beneath his own eye were a miscellaneous set +as regarded their contents; the only unity between them lay in the fact +that they were especially perilous to Cromwell. Ralph felt as if he were +handling gunpowder as he took them up one by one or added to the heap.</p> + +<p>The new coronet that my Lord of Essex had lately put upon his head would +not be there another day, if these were made public. There would not be +left even a head to put it upon. Ralph knew that a great minister like +his master was bound to have a finger in very curious affairs; but he +had not recognised how exceptional these were, nor how many, until he +had the bundle of papers before him. There were cases in which persons +accused and even convicted of high treason had been set at liberty on +Cromwell’s sole authority without reference to the King; there were +commissions issued in his name under similar conditions; there were +papers containing drafts, in Cromwell’s own hand of statements of +doctrine declared heretical by the Six Articles, and of which copies had +been distributed through the country at his express order; there were +copies of letters to country-sheriffs ordering the release of convicted +heretics and the imprisonment of their accusers; there were evidences of +enormous bribes received by him for the perversion of justice.</p> + +<p>Ralph finished his task one June evening, and sat dazed with work and +excitement, his fingers soiled with ink, his tired eyes staring at the +neat bundle before him.</p> + +<p>The Privy Council, he knew, was sitting that afternoon. Even at this +moment, probably, my Lord of Essex was laying down the law, speaking in +the King’s name, silencing his opponents by sheer force of will, but +with the Royal power behind him. And here lay the papers.</p> + +<p>He imagined to himself with a fanciful recklessness what would happen if +he made his way into the Council-room, and laid them on the table. It +would be just the end of all things for his master. There would be no +more bullying and denouncing then on that side; it would be a matter of +a fight for life.</p> + +<p>The memory of his own grudge, only five months old, rose before his +mind; and his tired brain grew hot and cloudy with resentment. He took +up the bundle in his hand and wielded it a moment, as a man might test a +sword. Here was a headsman’s axe, ground and sharp.</p> + +<p>Then he was ashamed; set the bundle down again, leaned back in his chair +and stretched his arms, yawning.</p> + +<p>What a glorious evening it was! He must go out and take the air for a +little by the river; he would walk down towards Chelsea.</p> + +<p>He rose up from his chair and went to the window, threw it open and +leaned out. His house stood back a little from the street; and there was +a space of cobbled ground between his front-door and the uneven stones +of the thoroughfare. Opposite rose up one of the tall Westminster +houses, pushing forward in its upper stories, with a hundred diamond +panes bright in the slanting sunshine that poured down the street from +the west. Overhead rose up the fantastic stately chimneys, against the +brilliant evening sky, and to right and left the street passed out of +sight in a haze of sunlight.</p> + +<p>It was a very quiet evening; the men had not yet begun to stream +homewards from their occupations; and the women were busy within. A +chorus of birds sounded somewhere overhead; but there was not a living +creature to be seen except a dog asleep in the sunshine at the corner of +the gravel.</p> + +<p>It was delicious to lean out here, away from the fire that burned hot +and red in the grate under its black mass of papers that had been +destroyed,—out in the light and air. Ralph determined that he would let +the fire die now; it would not be needed again.</p> + +<p>He must go out, he told himself, and not linger here. He could lock up +the papers for the present in readiness for their transport next day; +and he wondered vaguely whether his hat and cane were in the +entrance-hall below.</p> + +<p>He straightened himself, and turned away from the window, noticing as he +did so the dog at the corner of the street sit up with cocked ears. He +hesitated and turned back.</p> + +<p>There was a sound of furious running coming up the street. He would just +see who the madman was who ran like this on a hot evening, and then go +out himself.</p> + +<p>As he leaned again the pulsating steps came nearer; they were coming +from the left, the direction of the Palace.</p> + +<p>A moment later a figure burst into sight, crimson-faced and hatless, +with arms gathered to the sides and head thrown back; it appeared to be +a gentleman by the dress—but why should he run like that? He dashed +across the opening and disappeared.</p> + +<p>Ralph was interested. He waited a minute longer; but the footsteps had +ceased; and he was just turning once more from the window, when another +sound made him stand and listen again.</p> + +<p>It came from the same direction as before; and at first he could not +make out what it was. There was a murmur and a pattering.</p> + +<p>It came nearer and louder; and he could distinguish once more running +footsteps. Were they after a thief? he wondered. The murmur and clatter +grew louder yet; and a second or two later two men burst into sight; +one, an apprentice with his leather apron flapping as he ran, the other +a stoutish man like a merchant. They talked and gesticulated as they +went.</p> + +<p>The murmur behind swelled up. There were the voices of many people, men +and women, talking, screaming, questioning. The dog was on his feet by +now, looking intently down the street.</p> + +<p>Then the first group appeared; half a dozen men walking fast or +trotting, talking eagerly. Ralph could not hear what they said.</p> + +<p>Then a number surged into sight all at once, jostling round a centre, +and a clamour went up to heaven. The dog trotted up suspiciously as if +to enquire.</p> + +<p>Ralph grew excited; he scarcely knew why. He had seen hundreds of such +crowds; it might mean anything, from a rise in butter to a declaration +of war. But there was something fiercely earnest about this mob. Was the +King ill?</p> + +<p>He leaned further from the window and shouted; but no one paid him the +slightest attention. The crowd shifted up the street, the din growing +as they went; there was a sound of slammed doors; windows opened +opposite and heads craned out. Something was shouted up and the heads +disappeared.</p> + +<p>Ralph sprang back from the window, as more and more surged into sight; +he went to his door, glancing at his papers as he ran across; unlocked +the door; listened a moment; went on to the landing and shouted for a +servant.</p> + +<p>There was a sound of footsteps and voices below; the men were already +alert, but no answer came to his call. He shouted again.</p> + +<p>“Who is there? Find out what the disturbance means.”</p> + +<p>There was an answer from one of his men; and the street door opened and +closed. Again he ran to the window, and saw his man run out without his +doublet across the court, and seize a woman by the arm.</p> + +<p>He waited in passionate expectancy; saw him drop the woman’s arm and +turn to another; and then run swiftly back to the house.</p> + +<p>There was something sinister in the man’s very movements across that +little space; he ran desperately, with his head craning forward; once he +stumbled; once he glanced up at his master; and Ralph caught a sight of +his face.</p> + +<p>Ralph was on the landing as the steps thundered upstairs, and met him at +the head of the flight.</p> + +<p>“Speak man; what is it?”</p> + +<p>The servant lifted a face stamped with terror, a couple of feet below +Ralph’s.</p> + +<p>“They—they say—”</p> + +<p>“What is it?”</p> + +<p>“They say that the King’s archers are about my Lord Essex’s house.”</p> + +<p>Ralph drew a swift breath.</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“And that my Lord was arrested at the Council to-day.”</p> + +<p>Ralph turned, and in three steps was in his room again. The key clacked +in the lock.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_4VII">CHAPTER VII<br><span class="small">A QUESTION OF LOYALTY</span></h4></div> + + +<p>He did not know how long he stood there, with the bundle of papers +gripped in his two hands; and the thoughts racing through his brain.</p> + +<p>The noises in the street outside waned and waxed again, as the news +swept down the lanes, and recoiled with a wave of excited crowds +following it. Then again they died to a steady far-off murmur as the mob +surged and clamoured round the Palace and Abbey a couple of hundred +yards away.</p> + +<p>At last Ralph sat down; still holding the papers. He must clear his +brain; and how was that possible with the images flashing through it in +endless and vivid succession? For a while he could not steady himself; +the shock was bewildering; he could think of nothing but the appalling +drama. Essex was fallen!</p> + +<p>Then little by little the muddy current of thought began to run clear. +He began to understand what lay before him; and the question that still +awaited decision.</p> + +<p>His first instinct had been to dash the papers on to the fire and grind +them into the red heart of the wood; but something had checked him. Very +slowly he began to analyse that instinct.</p> + +<p>First, was it not useless? He knew he did not possess one hundredth part +of the incriminating evidence that was in existence. Of what service +would it be to his master to destroy that one small bundle?</p> + +<p>Next, what would be the result to himself if he did? It was known that +he was a trusted agent of the minister’s; his house would be searched; +papers would be found; it would be certainly known that he had made away +with evidence. There would be records of what he had, in the other +houses. And what then?</p> + +<p>On the other hand if he willingly gave up all that was in his +possession, it would go far to free him from complicity.</p> + +<p>Lastly, like a venomous snake lifting its head, his own private +resentment looked him in the eyes, and there was a new sting added to it +now. He had lost all, he knew well enough; wealth, honour and position +had in a moment shrunk to cinders with Cromwell’s fall, and for these +cinders he had lost Beatrice too. He had sacrificed her to his master; +and his master had failed him. A kind of fury succeeded to his dismay.</p> + +<p>Oh, would it not be sweet to add even one more stone to the mass that +was tottering over the head of that mighty bully, that had promised and +not performed?</p> + +<p>He blinked his eyes, shocked by the horror of the thought, and gripped +the bundle yet more firmly. The memories of a thousand kindnesses +received from his master cried at the door of his heart. The sweat +dropped from his forehead; he lifted a stiff hand to wipe it away, and +dropped it again into its grip on the papers.</p> + +<p>Then he slowly recapitulated to himself the reasons for not destroying +them. They were overwhelming, convincing! What was there to set against +them? One slender instinct only, that cried shrill and thin that in +honour he must burn that damning evidence—burn it—burn it—whether or +no it would help or hinder, it must be burnt!</p> + +<p>Then again he recurred to the other side; told himself that his +instinct was no more than a ludicrous sentimentality; he must be guided +by reason, not impulse. Then he glanced at the impulse again. Then the +two sides rushed together, locked in conflict. He moaned a little, and +lay back in his chair.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The bright sunlight outside had faded to a mellow evening atmosphere +before he moved again; and the fire had died to one dull core of +incandescence.</p> + +<p>As he stirred, he became aware that bells were pealing outside; a +melodious roar filled the air. Somewhere behind the house five brazen +voices, shouting all together, bellowed the exultation of the city over +the great minister’s fall.</p> + +<p>He was weary and stiff as he stood up; but the fever had left his brain; +and the decision had been made. He relaxed his fingers and laid the +bundle softly down on the table from which he had snatched it a couple +of hours before.</p> + +<p>They would be here soon, he knew; he wondered they had not come already.</p> + +<p>Leaving his papers there, he went out, taking the key with him, and +locking the door after him. He called up one of his men, telling him he +would be ready for supper immediately in the parlour downstairs, and +that any visitors who came for him were to be admitted at once.</p> + +<p>Then he passed into his bedroom to wash and change his clothes.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Half an hour later he came upstairs again.</p> + +<p>He had supped alone, listening and watching the window as he ate; but no +sign had come of any arrival. He had dressed with particular care, +intending to be found at his ease when the searchers did arrive; there +must be no sign of panic or anxiety. He had told his man as he rose +from table, to say to any that came for him that they were expected, and +to bring them immediately upstairs.</p> + +<p>He unlocked the door of his private room, and went in. All was as he had +left it; the floor between the window and table was white with ordered +heaps of papers; the bundle on the table itself glimmered where he had +laid it.</p> + +<p>The fire had sunk to a spark. He tenderly lifted off the masses of black +sheets that crackled as he touched them; it had not occurred to him +before that these evidences of even a harmless destruction had better be +removed; and he slid them carefully on to a broad sheet of paper, folded +it, shaking the ashes together as he did so, and stood a moment, +wondering where he should hide it.</p> + +<p>The room was growing dark now; he put the package down; went to the fire +and blew it up a little, added some wood, and presently the flames were +dancing on the broad hearth.</p> + +<p>As he stood up again he heard the knocker rap on his street-door. For a +moment he had an instinct to run to the window and see who was there; +but he put it aside; there was scarcely time to hide the ashes; and it +was best too to give no hint of anxiety. He lifted the package of burnt +papers once more, and stood hesitating; a press would be worse than +useless as a hiding-place; all such would of course be searched. Then a +thought struck him; he stood up noiselessly on his chair. The Holbein +portrait of Cromwell in his furred gown and chain leaned forward from +the tapestry over the mantelpiece. Ralph set one hand against the wall +at the side; and then tenderly let the package fall behind the portrait. +As he did so the painted and living eyes were on a level; it seemed +strange to him that the faces were so near together at that moment; and +it struck him with a grim irony that the master should be so protecting +the servant under these circumstances.</p> + +<p>Then he dropped lightly to the ground, and sat quickly in the chair, +snatching up the bundle of papers from the table as he did so.</p> + +<p>The steps were on the landing now; he heard the crack of the balustrade; +but it seemed they were coming very quietly.</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s silence; the muscles of his throat contracted +sharply, then there came the servant’s tap; the handle was turned.</p> + +<p>Ralph stood up quickly, still holding the papers, as the door opened, +and Beatrice stepped forward into the room. The door shut noiselessly +behind her.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>She stood there, with the firelight playing on her dark loose-sleeved +mantle, the hood that surrounded her head, her pale face a little +flushed, and her black steady eyes. Her breath came quickly between her +parted lips.</p> + +<p>Ralph stared at her, dazed by the shock, still gripping the bundle of +papers. She moved forward a step; and the spell snapped.</p> + +<p>“Mistress Beatrice,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I have come,” she said; “what is it? You want me?”</p> + +<p>She came round the table, with an air of eager expectancy.</p> + +<p>“I—I did not know,” said Ralph.</p> + +<p>“But you wanted me. What is the matter? I heard you call.”</p> + +<p>Ralph stared again, bewildered.</p> + +<p>“Call?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I heard you. I was in my room at my aunt’s house—ah! a couple of +hours ago. You called me twice. ‘Beatrice! Beatrice!’ Then—then they +told me what had happened about my Lord Essex.”</p> + +<p>“I called you?” repeated Ralph.</p> + +<p>“Yes—you called me. Your voice was quite close to me, at my ear; I +thought you were in the room. Tell me what it is.”</p> + +<p>She loosened her hold of her mantle as she stood there by the table; and +it dropped open, showing a sparkle of jewels at her throat. She threw +back her hood, and it dropped on to her shoulders, leaving visible the +coiled masses of her black hair set with knots of ribbon.</p> + +<p>“I did not call,” said Ralph dully. “I do not know what you mean, +Mistress Atherton.”</p> + +<p>She made a little impatient gesture.</p> + +<p>“Ah! yes,” she said, “it is something. Tell me quickly. I suppose it has +to do with my Lord. What is it?”</p> + +<p>“It is nothing,” said Ralph again.</p> + +<p>They stood looking at one another in silence. Beatrice’s eyes ran a +moment up and down his rich dress, the papers in his hands, then +wandered to the heaped floor, the table, and returned to the papers in +his hands.</p> + +<p>“You must tell me,” she said. “What is that you are holding?”</p> + +<p>An angry terror seized Ralph.</p> + +<p>“That is my affair, Mistress Atherton. What is your business with me?”</p> + +<p>She came a step nearer, and leant her left hand on his table. He could +see those steady eyes on his face; she looked terribly strong and +controlled.</p> + +<p>“Indeed you must tell me, Mr. Torridon. I am come here to do something. +I do not know what. What are those papers?”</p> + +<p>He turned and dropped them on to the chair behind him.</p> + +<p>“I tell you again, I do not know what you mean.”</p> + +<p>“It is useless,” she said. “Have they been to you yet? What do you mean +to do about my Lord? You know he is in the Tower?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose so,” said Ralph, “but my counsel is my own.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Torridon, let us have an end of this. I know well that you must +have many secrets against my lord—”</p> + +<p>“I tell you that what I know is nothing. I have not a hundredth part of +his papers.”</p> + +<p>He felt himself desperate and bewildered, like a man being pushed to the +edge of a precipice, step by step. But those black eyes held and +compelled him on. He scarcely knew what he was saying.</p> + +<p>“And are these papers all his? What have you been doing with them?”</p> + +<p>“My Lord told me to sort them.”</p> + +<p>The words were drawn out against his own will.</p> + +<p>“And those in your hand—on the chair. What are they?”</p> + +<p>Ralph made one more violent effort to regain the mastery.</p> + +<p>“If you were not a woman, Mistress Atherton, I should tell you you were +insolent.”</p> + +<p>Not a ripple troubled those strong eyes.</p> + +<p>“Tell me, Mr. Torridon, what are they?”</p> + +<p>He stood silent and furious.</p> + +<p>“I will tell you what they are,” she said; “they are my Lord’s secrets. +Is it not so? And you were about to burn them. Oh! Ralph, is it not so?”</p> + +<p>Her voice had a tone of entreaty in it. He dropped his eyes, overcome by +the passion that streamed from her.</p> + +<p>“Is it not so?” she cried again.</p> + +<p>“Do you wish me to do so?” he said amazed. His voice seemed not his own; +it was as if another spoke for him. He had the same sensation of +powerlessness as once before when she had lashed him with her tongue in +the room downstairs.</p> + +<p>“Wish you?” she cried. “Why, yes; what else?”</p> + +<p>He lifted his eyes to hers; the room seemed to have grown darker yet in +those few minutes. He could only see now a shadowed face looking at him; +but her bright passionate eyes shone out from it and dominated him.</p> + +<p>Again he spoke, in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>“I shall not burn them,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Shall not? shall not?”</p> + +<p>“I shall not,” he said again.</p> + +<p>There was silence. Ralph’s soul was struggling desperately within him. +He put out his hand mechanically and took up the papers once more, as if +to guard them from this fierce, imperious woman. Beatrice’s eyes +followed the movement; and then rested once more on his face. Then she +spoke again, with a tense deliberateness that drove every word home, +piercing and sharp to the very centre of his spirit.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” she said, “for this is what I came to say. I know what you are +thinking—I know every thought as if it were my own. You tell yourself +that it is useless to burn those secrets; that there are ten thousand +more—enough to cast my lord. I make no answer to that.</p> + +<p>“You tell yourself that you can only save yourself by giving them up to +his enemies. I make no answer to that.</p> + +<p>“You tell yourself that it will be known if you destroy them—that you +will be counted as one of His Highness’s enemies. I make no answer to +that. And I tell you to burn them.”</p> + +<p>She came a step nearer. There was not a yard between them now; and the +fire of her words caught and scorched him with their bitterness.</p> + +<p>“You have been false to every high and noble thing. You have been false +to your own conscience—to your father—your brother—your sister—your +Church—your King and your God. You have been false to love and honour. +You have been false to yourself. And now Almighty God of His courtesy +gives you one more opportunity—an opportunity to be true to your +master. I say nothing of him. God is his judge. You know what that +verdict will be. And yet I bid you be true to him. He has a thousand +claims on you. You have served him, though it be but Satan’s service; +yet it is the highest that you know—God help you! He is called +friendless now. Shall that be wholly true of him? You will be called a +traitor presently—shall that be wholly true of you? Or shall there be +one tiny point in which you are not false and treacherous as you have +been in all other points?”</p> + +<p>She stopped again, looking him fiercely in the eyes.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>From the street outside there came the sound of footsteps; the ring of +steel on stone. Ralph heard it, and his eyes rolled round to the window; +but he did not move.</p> + +<p>Beatrice was almost touching him now. He felt the fragrance that hung +about her envelop him for a moment. Then he felt a touch on the papers; +and his fingers closed more tightly.</p> + +<p>The steps outside grew louder and ceased; and the house suddenly +reverberated with a thunder of knocking.</p> + +<p>Beatrice sprang back.</p> + +<p>“Nay, you shall give me them,” she said; and stood waiting with +outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>Ralph lifted the papers slowly, stared at them, and at her.</p> + +<p>Then he held them out.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>In a moment she had snatched them; and was on her knees by the hearth. +Ralph watched her, and listened to the steps coming up the stairs. The +papers were alight now. The girl dashed her fingers among them, +grinding, tearing, separating the heavy pages.</p> + +<p>They were almost gone by now; the thick smoke poured up the chimney; and +still Beatrice tore and dashed the ashes about.</p> + +<p>There was a knocking at the door; and the handle turned. The girl rose +from her knees and smiled at Ralph as the door opened, and the +pursuivants stood there in the opening.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_4VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br><span class="small">TO CHARING</span></h4></div> + + +<p>Chris had something very like remorse after Ralph had left Overfield, +and no words of explanation or regret had been spoken on either side. He +recognised that he had not been blameless at the beginning of their +estrangement—if, indeed, there ever had been a beginning—for their +inflamed relations had existed to some extent back into boyhood as far +as he could remember; but he had been responsible for at least a share +in the fierce words in Ralph’s house after the death of the Carthusians. +He had been hot-headed, insolent, theatrical; and he had not written to +acknowledge it. He had missed another opportunity at Lewes—at least +one—when pride had held him back from speaking, for fear that he should +be thought to be currying favour. And now this last opportunity, the +best of all—when Ralph had been accessible and courteous, affected, +Chris imagined, by the death of his mother—this too had been missed; +and he had allowed his brother to ride away without a word of regret or +more than formal affection.</p> + +<p>He was troubled at mass, an hour after Ralph had gone; the distraction +came between him and the sweet solemnity upon which he was engaged. His +soul was dry and moody. He showed it in his voice. As a younger brother +in past years; as a monk and a priest now, he knew that the duty of the +first step to a reconciliation had lain with him; and that he had not +taken it.</p> + +<p>It had been a troubled household altogether when Ralph had gone. There +was first the shock of Lady Torridon’s death, and the hundred regrets +that it had left behind. Then Beatrice too, who had helped them all so +much, had told them that she must go back to town—her aunt was alone in +the little house at Charing, for the friend who had spent Christmas +there was gone back to the country; and Margaret, consequently, had been +almost in despair. Lastly Sir James himself had been troubled; wondering +whether he might not have been warmer with Ralph, more outspoken in his +gratitude for the affair of the mummers, more ready to welcome an +explanation from his son. The shadow of Ralph then rested on the +household, and there was something of pathos in it. He was so much +detached now, so lonely, and it seemed that he was content it should be +so.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There were pressing matters too to be arranged; and, weightiest of all, +those relating to Margaret’s future. She would now be the only woman +besides the servants, in the house; and it was growing less and less +likely that she would be ever able to take up the Religious Life again +in England. There seemed little reason for her remaining in the country, +unless indeed she threw aside the Religious habit altogether, and went +to live at Great Keynes as Mary preferred. Beatrice made an offer to +receive her in London for a while, but in this case again she would have +to wear secular dress.</p> + +<p>The evening before Beatrice left, the two sat and talked for a couple of +hours. Margaret was miserable; she cried a little, clung to Beatrice, +and then was ashamed of herself.</p> + +<p>“My dear child,” said the other. “It is in your hands. You can do as you +please.”</p> + +<p>“But I cannot,” sobbed the nun. “I cannot; I do not know. Let me come +with you, Beatrice.”</p> + +<p>Beatrice then settled down and talked to her. She told her of her duty +to her father for the present; she must remember that he was lonely now. +In any case she must not think of leaving home for another six months. +In the meantime she had to consider two points. First, did she consider +herself in conscience bound to Religion? What did the priest tell her? +If she did so consider herself, then there was no question; she must go +to Bruges and join the others. Secondly, if not, did she think herself +justified in leaving her father in the summer? If so, she might either +go to Great Keynes, or come up for at least a long visit to Charing.</p> + +<p>“And what do you think?” asked the girl piteously.</p> + +<p>“Do you wish me to tell you!” said Beatrice.</p> + +<p>Margaret nodded.</p> + +<p>“Then I think you should go to Bruges in July or August.”</p> + +<p>Margaret stared at her; the tears were very near her eyes again.</p> + +<p>“My darling; I should love to have you in London,” went on the other +caressing her. “Of course I should. But I cannot see that King Henry +and his notions make any difference to your vows. They surely stand. Is +it not so, my dear?”</p> + +<p>And so after a little more talk Margaret consented. Her mind had told +her that all along; it was her heart only that protested against this +final separation from her friend.</p> + +<p>Chris too agreed when she spoke to him a day or two later when Beatrice +had gone back. He said he had been considering his own case too; and +that unless something very marked intervened he proposed to follow Dom +Anthony abroad. They could travel together, he said. Finally, when the +matter was laid before their father he also consented.</p> + +<p>“I shall do very well,” he said. “Mary spoke to me of it; and Nicholas +has asked me to make my home at Great Keynes; so if you go, my son, with +Meg in the summer, I shall finish matters here, lease out the estate, +and Mr. Carleton and I shall betake ourselves there. Unless”—he +said—“unless Ralph should come to another mind.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>As the spring and early summer drew on, the news, as has been seen, was +not reassuring.</p> + +<p>In spite of the Six Articles of the previous year by which all vows of +chastity were declared binding before God, there was no hint of making +it possible for the thousands of Religious in England still compelled by +them to return to the Life in which such vows were tolerable. The +Religious were indeed dispensed from obedience and poverty by the civil +authority; it was possible for them to buy, inherit, and occupy +property; but a recognition of their corporate life was as far as ever +away. It was becoming plainer every day that those who wished to pursue +their vocation must do so in voluntary exile; and letters were already +being exchanged between the brother and sister at home and the +representatives of their respective communities on the Continent.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly on the eleventh of June there arrived the news of +Cromwell’s fall and of all that it involved to Ralph.</p> + +<p>They were at dinner when it came.</p> + +<p>There was a door suddenly thrust open at the lower end of the hall; and +a courier, white with dust and stiff with riding, limped up the matting +and delivered Beatrice’s letter. It was very short.</p> + +<p>“Come,” she had written. “My Lord of Essex is arrested. He is in the +Tower. Mr. Ralph, too, is there for refusing to inform against him. He +has behaved gallantly.”</p> + +<p>There followed a line from Mistress Jane Atherton, her aunt, offering +rooms in her own house.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>A wild confusion fell upon the household. Men ran to and fro, women +whispered and sobbed in corners under shadow of the King’s displeasure +that lay on the house, the road between the terrace and the stable +buzzed with messengers, ordering and counter-ordering, for it was not +certain at first that Margaret would not go. A mounted groom dashed up +for instructions and was met by Sir James in his riding-cloak on the +terrace who bade him ride to Great Keynes with the news, and entreat Sir +Nicholas Maxwell to come up to London and his wife to Overfield; there +was not time to write. Sir James’s own room was in confusion; his +clothes lay tumbled on the ground and a distraught servant tossed them +this way and that; Chris was changing his habit upstairs, for it would +mean disaster to go to town as a monk. Margaret was on her knees in +chapel, silent and self-controlled, but staring piteously at the +compassionate figure of the great Mother who looked down on her with Her +Son in Her arms. The huge dog under the chapel-cloister lifted his head +and bayed in answer, as frantic figures fled across the court before +him. And over all lay the hot June sky, and round about the deep +peaceful woods.</p> + +<p>A start was made at three o’clock.</p> + +<p>Sir James was already in his saddle, as Chris ran out; an unfamiliar +figure in his plain priest’s cloak and cap and great riding boots +beneath. A couple of grooms waited behind, and another held the monk’s +horse. Margaret was on the steps, white and steadied by prayer; and the +chaplain stood behind with a strong look in his eyes as they met those +of his patron.</p> + +<p>“Take care of her, father; take care of her. Her sister will be here +to-night, please God. Oh! God bless you, my dear! Pray for us all. Jesu +keep us all! Chris, are you mounted?”</p> + +<p>Then they were off; and the white dust rose in clouds about them.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was between eight and nine as they rode up the north bank of the +river from London Bridge to Charing.</p> + +<p>It had been a terrible ride, with but few words between the two, and +long silences that were the worst of all; as, blotting out the rich +country and the deep woods and the meadows and heathery hills on either +side of the road through Surrey, visions moved and burned before them, +such as the King’s vengeance had made possible to the imagination. From +far away across the Southwark fields Chris had seen the huddled +buildings of the City, the princely spire that marked them, and had +heard the sweet jangling of the thousand bells that told the Angelus; +but he had thought of little but of that high gateway under which they +must soon pass, where the pikes against the sky made palpable the +horrors of his thought. He had given one swift glance up as he went +beneath; and then his heart sickened as they went on, past the houses +and St. Thomas’s chapel with gleams of the river seen beneath. Then as +he looked his breath came sharp; far down there eastwards, seen for a +moment, rose up the sombre towers where Ralph lay, and the saints had +suffered.</p> + +<p>The old Religious Houses, stretching in a splendid line upwards, from +the Augustinian priory near the river-bank, along the stream that flowed +down from Ludgate, caught the last rays of sunlight high against the +rich sky as the riders went along towards Charing between the +sedge-brinked tide and the slope of grass on their right; and the monk’s +sorrowful heart was overlaid again with sorrow as he looked at them, +empty now and desolate where once the praises of God had sounded day and +night.</p> + +<p>They stopped beneath the swinging sign of an inn, with Westminster +towers blue and magical before them, to ask for Mistress Atherton’s +house, and were directed a little further along and nearer to the +water’s edge.</p> + +<p>It was a little old house when they came to it, built on a tiny private +embankment that jutted out over the flats of the river-bank; of plaster +and timber with overhanging storeys and windows beneath the roof. It +stood by itself, east of the village, and almost before the jangle of +the bell had died away, Beatrice herself was at the door, in her +house-dress, bare-headed; with a face at once radiant and constrained.</p> + +<p>She took them upstairs immediately, after directing the men to take the +horses, when they had unloaded the luggage, back to the inn where they +had enquired the way: for there was no stable, she said, attached to the +house.</p> + +<p>Chris came behind his father as if in a dream through the dark little +hall and up the two flights on to the first landing. Beatrice stopped at +a door.</p> + +<p>“You can say what you will,” she said, “before my aunt. She is of our +mind in these matters.”</p> + +<p>Then they were in the room; a couple of candles burned on a table before +the curtained window; and an old lady with a wrinkled kindly face +hobbled over from her chair and greeted the two travellers.</p> + +<p>“I welcome you, gentlemen,” she said, “if a sore heart may say so to +sore hearts.”</p> + +<p>There was no news of Nicholas, they were told; he had not been heard of.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>They heard the story so far as Beatrice knew it; but it was softened for +their ears. She had found Ralph, she said, hesitating what to do. He had +been plainly bewildered by the sudden news; they had talked a while; and +then he had handed her the papers to burn. The magistrate sent by the +Council had arrived to find the ashes still smoking. He had questioned +Ralph sharply, for he had come with authority behind him; and Ralph had +refused to speak beyond telling him that the bundles lying on the floor +were all the papers of my Lord Essex that were in his possession. They +had laid hands on these, and then searched the room. A quantity of +ashes, Beatrice said, had fallen from behind a portrait over the hearth +when they had shifted it. Then the magistrate had questioned her too, +enquired where she lived, and let her go. She had waited at the corner +of the street, and watched the men come out. Ralph walked in the centre +as a prisoner. She had followed them to the river; had mixed with the +crowd that gathered there; and had heard the order given to the +wherryman to pull to the Tower. That was all that she knew.</p> + +<p>“Thank God for your son, sir. He bore himself gallantly.”</p> + +<p>There was a silence as she ended. The old man looked at her wondering +and dazed. It was so sad, that the news scarcely yet conveyed its +message.</p> + +<p>“And my Lord Essex?” he said.</p> + +<p>“My Lord is in the Tower too. He was arrested at the Council by the Duke +of Norfolk.”</p> + +<p>The old lady intervened then, and insisted on their going down to +supper. It would be ready by now, she said, in the parlour downstairs.</p> + +<p>They supped, themselves silent, with Beatrice leaning her arms on the +table, and talking to them in a low voice, telling them all that was +said. She did not attempt to prophesy smoothly. The feeling against +Cromwell, she said, passed all belief. The streets had been filled with +a roaring crowd last night. She had heard them bellowing till long after +dark. The bells were pealed in the City churches hour after hour, in +triumph over the minister’s fall.</p> + +<p>“The dogs!” she said fiercely. “I never thought to say it, but my heart +goes out to him.”</p> + +<p>Her spirit was infectious. Chris felt a kind of half-joyful recklessness +tingle in his veins, as he listened to her talk, and watched her black +eyes hot with indignation and firm with purpose. What if Ralph were +cast? At least it was for faithfulness—of a kind. Even the father’s +face grew steadier; that piteous trembling of the lower lip ceased, and +the horror left his eyes. It was hard to remain in panic with that girl +beside them.</p> + +<p>They had scarcely done supper when the bell of the outer door rang +again, and a moment later Nicholas was with them, flushed with hard +riding. He strode into the room, blinking at the lights, and tossed his +riding whip on to the table.</p> + +<p>“I have been to the Lieutenant of the Tower,” he said; “I know him of +old. He promises nothing. He tells me that Ralph is well-lodged. Mary is +gone to Overfield. God damn the King!”</p> + +<p>He had no more news to give. He had sent off his wife at once on +receiving the tidings, and had started half an hour later for London. He +had been ahead of them all the way, it seemed; but had spent a couple of +hours first in trying to get admittance to the Tower, and then in +interviewing the Lieutenant; but there was no satisfaction to be gained +there. The utmost he had wrung from him was a promise that he would see +him again, and hear what he had to say.</p> + +<p>Then Nicholas had to sup and hear the whole story from the beginning; +and Chris left his father to tell it, and went up with Beatrice to +arrange about rooms.</p> + +<p>Matters were soon settled with the old lady; Nicholas and Chris were to +sleep in one room, and Sir James in another. Two servants only could +be accommodated in the house; the rest were to put up at the inn. +Beatrice went off to give the necessary orders.</p> + +<p>Mistress Jane Atherton and Chris had a few moments together before the +others came up.</p> + +<p>“A sore heart,” said the old lady again, “but a glad one too. Beatrice +has told me everything.”</p> + +<p>“I am thankful too,” said Chris softly. “I wonder if my father +understands.”</p> + +<p>“He will, father, he will. But even if he does not—well, God knows +all.”</p> + +<p>It was evident when Sir James came upstairs presently that he did not +understand anything yet, except that Beatrice thought that Ralph had +behaved well.</p> + +<p>“But it is to my Lord Essex—who has been the worker of all the +mischief—that my son is faithful. Is that a good thing then?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes,” said Chris. “You would not have him faithless there too?”</p> + +<p>“But would he not be on God’s side at last, if he were against +Cromwell?”</p> + +<p>The old man was still too much bewildered to understand explanations, +and his son was silent.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Chris could not sleep that night, and long after Nicholas lay deep in +his pillow, with open mouth and tight eyes, the priest was at the window +looking out over the river where the moon hung like a silver shield +above Southwark. The meadows beyond the stream were dim and colourless; +here and there a roof rose among trees; and straight across the broad +water to his feet ran a path of heaving glory, where the strong ripple +tossed the silver surface that streamed down upon it from the moon.</p> + +<p>London lay round him as quiet as Overfield, and Chris remembered with a +stir at his heart his moonlight bathe all those years ago in the lake at +home, when he had come back hot from hunting and had slipped down with +the chaplain after supper. Then the water had seemed like a cool restful +gulf in the world of sensation; the moon had not been risen at first; +only the stars pricked above and below in air and water. Then the moon +had come up, and a path of splendour had smitten the surface into sight. +He had swum up it, he remembered, the silver ripple washing over his +shoulders as he went.</p> + +<p>And now those years of monastic peace and storm had come and gone, +sifting and penetrating his soul, washing out from it little by little +the heats and passions with which he had plunged. As he looked back on +himself he was astonished at his old complacent smallness. His figure +appeared down that avenue of years, a tiny passionate thing, +gesticulating, feverish, self-conscious. He remembered his serene +certainty that he was right and Ralph wrong in every touch of friction +between them, his own furious and theatrical outburst at the death of +the Carthusians, his absurd dignity on later occasions. Even in those +first beginnings of peace when the inner life had begun to well up and +envelop him he had been narrow and self-centred; he had despised the +common human life, not understanding that God’s Will was as energetic in +the bewildering rush of the current as in the quiet sheltered +back-waters to which he himself had been called. He had been awakened +from that dream by the fall of the Priory, and that to which he opened +his eyes had been forced into his consciousness by the months at home, +when he had had that astringent mingling of the world and the spirit, of +the interpenetration of the inner by the outer. And now for the first +time he stood as a balanced soul between the two, alight with a tranquil +grace within, and not afraid to look at the darkness without. He was +ready now for either life, to go back to the cloister and labour there +for the world at the springs of energy, or to take his place in the new +England and struggle at the tossing surface.</p> + +<p>He stood here now by the hurrying turbulent stream, a wider and more +perilous gulf than that that had lain before him as he looked at the +moonlit lake at Overfield and yet over it brooded the same quiet shield +of heaven, gilding the black swift flowing forces with the promise of a +Presence greater than them all.</p> + +<p>He stood there long, staring and thinking.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_4IX">CHAPTER IX<br><span class="small">A RELIEF-PARTY</span></h4></div> + + +<p>The days that followed were very anxious and troubled ones for Ralph’s +friends at Charing. They were dreadful too from their very +uneventfulness.</p> + +<p>On the morning following their arrival Chris went off to the Temple to +consult a lawyer that the Lieutenant had recommended to Nicholas, and +brought him back with him an hour later. The first need to be supplied +was their lack of knowledge as to procedure; and the four men sat +together until dinner, in the parlour on the first floor looking over +the sunlit river; and discussed the entire situation.</p> + +<p>The lawyer, Mr. Herries, a shrewd-faced Northerner, sat with his back to +the window, fingering a quill horizontally in his lean brown fingers and +talking in short sentences, glancing up between them, with patient +silences as the others talked. He seemed the very incarnation of the +slow inaction that was so infinitely trying to these anxious souls.</p> + +<p>The three laymen did not even know the crime with which Ralph was +charged, but they soon learnt that the technical phrase for it was +misprision of treason.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Torridon was arrested, I understand,” said the lawyer, “by order of +Council. He would have been arrested in any case. He was known to be +privy to my Lord Essex’s schemes. You inform me that he destroyed +evidence. That will go against him if they can prove it.”</p> + +<p>He drew the quill softly through his lips, and then fell to fingering it +again, as the others stared at him.</p> + +<p>“However,” went on Mr. Herries, “that is not our affair now. There will +be time for that. Our question is, when will he be charged, and how? My +Lord Essex may be tried by a court, or attainted in Parliament. I should +suppose the latter. Mr. Torridon will be treated in the same way. If it +be the former, we can do nothing but wait and prepare our case. If it be +the latter, we must do our utmost to keep his name out of the bill.”</p> + +<p>He went on to explain his reasons for thinking that a bill of attainder +would be brought against Cromwell. It was the customary method, he said, +for dealing with eminent culprits, and its range had been greatly +extended by Cromwell himself. At this moment three Catholics lay in the +Tower, attainted through the statesman’s own efforts, for their supposed +share in a conspiracy to deliver up Calais to the invaders who had +threatened England in the previous year. Feeling, too, ran very high +against Cromwell; the public would be impatient of a long trial; and a +bill of attainder would give a readier outlet to the fury against him.</p> + +<p>This then was the danger; but they could do nothing, said the lawyer, to +avert it, until they could get information. He would charge himself with +that business, and communicate with them as soon as he knew.</p> + +<p>“And then?” asked Chris, looking at him desperately, for the cold +deliberate air of Mr. Herries gave him a terrible sense of the +passionless process of the law.</p> + +<p>“I was about to speak of that,” said the lawyer. “If it goes as I think +it will, and Mr. Torridon’s name is suggested for the bill, we must +approach the most powerful friends we can lay hold on, to use their +influence against his inclusion. Have you any such, sir?” he added, +looking at Sir James sharply over the quill.</p> + +<p>The old man shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I know no one,” he said.</p> + +<p>The lawyer pursed his lips.</p> + +<p>“Then we must do the best we can. We can set aside at once all of my +Lord Essex’s enemies—and—and he has many now. Two names come to my +mind. Master Ralph Sadler—the comptroller; and my Lord of Canterbury.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” cried Chris, dropping his hand, “my Lord of Canterbury! My brother +has had dealings with him.”</p> + +<p>Sir James straightened himself in his chair.</p> + +<p>“I will ask no favour of that fellow,” he said sternly.</p> + +<p>The lawyer looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir,” he said, “if you will not you will not. But I cannot +suggest a better. He is in high favour with his Grace; they say he has +already said a word for my Lord Essex—not much—much would be too much, +I think; but still ’twas something. And what of Master Sadler?”</p> + +<p>“I know nothing of him,” faltered the old man.</p> + +<p>There was silence a moment.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir,” said Mr. Herries, “you can think the matter over. I am for +my Lord of Canterbury; for the reasons I have named to you. But we can +wait a few days. We can do nothing until the method of procedure is +known.”</p> + +<p>Then he went; promising to let them know as soon as he had information.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Rumours began to run swiftly through the City. It was said, though +untruly at that time, that Cromwell had addressed a letter to the King +at Henry’s own request, explaining his conduct, utterly denying that he +had said certain rash words attributed to him, and that His Majesty was +greatly affected by it. There was immense excitement everywhere; a crowd +assembled daily outside Westminster Hall; groups at every corner of the +streets discussed the fallen minister’s chances; and shouts were raised +for those who were known to be his enemies, the Duke of Norfolk, Rich, +and others—as they rode through to the Palace.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Ralph’s friends could do little. Nicholas rode down once or +twice to see the Lieutenant of The Tower, and managed to extract a +promise that Ralph should hear of their presence in London; but he could +not get to see him, or hear any news except that he was in good health +and spirits, and was lodged in a private cell.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly one afternoon a small piece of news arrived from Mr. +Herries to the effect that Cromwell was to be attainted; and anxiety +became intense as to whether Ralph would be included. Sir James could +eat nothing at supper, but sat crumbling his bread, while Beatrice +talked almost feverishly in an attempt to distract him. Finally he rose +and went out, and the others sat on, eyeing one another, anxious and +miserable.</p> + +<p>In desperation Nicholas began to talk of his visit to the Tower, of the +Lieutenant’s timidity, and his own insistence; and they noticed nothing, +till the door was flung open, and the old man stood there, his eyes +bright and his lips trembling with hope. He held a scrap of paper in his +hand.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” he cried as the others sprang to their feet.</p> + +<p>“A fellow has just come from Mr. Herries with this”—he lifted the paper +and read,—“Mr. Torridon’s name is not in the bill. I will be with you +to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Thank God!” said Chris.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There was another long discussion the following morning. Mr. Herries +arrived about ten o’clock to certify his news; and the four sat till +dinner once again, talking and planning. There was not the same +desperate hurry now; the first danger was passed.</p> + +<p>There was only one thing that the lawyer could do, and that was to +repeat his advice to seek the intercession of the Archbishop. He +observed again that while Cranmer had the friendship of the fallen +minister, he had not in any sense been involved in his fall; he was +still powerful with the King, and of considerable weight with the +Council in consequence. He was likely therefore to be both able and +willing to speak on behalf of Cromwell’s agent.</p> + +<p>“But I would advise nothing to be done until the bill of attainder has +come before Parliament. We do not know yet how far Mr. Torridon’s action +has affected the evidence. From what you say, gentlemen, and from what I +have heard elsewhere, I should think that the papers Mr. Torridon +destroyed are not essential to a conviction. My Lord’s papers at his own +house are sufficient.”</p> + +<p>But they had some difficulty in persuading Sir James to consent to ask a +favour of the Archbishop. In his eyes, Cranmer was beyond the pale of +decency; he had lived with two women, said the old man, whom he called +his wives, although as a priest he was incapable of marriage; he had +violated his consecration oath; he had blessed and annulled the frequent +marriages of the King with equal readiness; he was a heretic confessed +and open on numberless points of the Catholic Faith.</p> + +<p>Mr. Herries pointed out with laborious minuteness that this was beside +the question altogether. He did not propose that Sir James Torridon +should go to the Archbishop as to a spiritual superior, but as to one +who chanced to have great influence;—if he were a murderer it would +make no difference to his advice.</p> + +<p>Chris broke in with troubled eyes.</p> + +<p>“Indeed, sir,” he said to his father, “you know how I am with you in +all that you say; and yet I am with Mr. Herries too. I do not +understand—”</p> + +<p>“God help us,” cried the old man. “I do not know what to do.”</p> + +<p>“Will you talk with Mistress Beatrice?” asked Chris.</p> + +<p>Sir James nodded.</p> + +<p>“I will do that,” he said.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The next day the bill was passed; and the party in the house at Charing +sat sick at heart within doors, hearing the crowds roaring down the +street, singing and shouting in triumph. Every cry tore their hearts; +for was it not against Ralph’s master and friend that they rejoiced? As +they sat at supper a great battering broke out at the door that looked +on to the lane; and they sprang up to hear a drunken voice bellowing at +them to come out and shout for liberty. Nicholas went crimson with +anger; and he made a movement towards the hall, his hand on his hilt.</p> + +<p>“Ah! sit down, Nick,” said the monk. “The drunken fool is away again.”</p> + +<p>And they heard the steps reel on towards Westminster.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was not until a fortnight later that they went at last to Lambeth.</p> + +<p>Sir James had been hard to persuade; but Beatrice had succeeded at last. +Nicholas had professed himself ready to ask a favour of the devil +himself under the circumstances; and Chris himself continued to support +the lawyer’s opinion. He repeated his arguments again and again.</p> + +<p>Then it was necessary to make an appointment with the Archbishop; and a +day was fixed at last. My Lord would see them, wrote a secretary, at +two o’clock on the afternoon of July the third.</p> + +<p>Beatrice sat through that long hot afternoon in the window-seat of the +upstairs parlour, looking out over the wide river below, conscious +perhaps for the first time of the vast weight of responsibility that +rested on her.</p> + +<p>She had seen them go off in a wherry, the father and son with Nicholas +in the stern, and the lawyer facing them on the cross-bench; they had +been terribly silent as they walked down to the stairs; had stood +waiting there without a word being spoken but by herself, as the wherry +made ready; and she had talked hopelessly, desperately, to relieve the +tension. Then they had gone off. Sir James had looked back at her over +his shoulder as the boat put out; and she had seen his lips move. She +had watched them grow smaller and smaller as they went, and then when a +barge had come between her and them, she had gone home alone to wait for +their return, and the tidings that they would bring.</p> + +<p>And she, in a sense was responsible for it all. If it had not been for +her visit to Ralph, he would have handed the papers over to the +authorities; he would be at liberty now, no doubt, as were Cromwell’s +other agents; and, as she thought of it, her tortured heart asked again +and again whether after all she had done right.</p> + +<p>She went over the whole question, as she sat there, looking out over the +river towards Lambeth, fingering the shutter, glancing now and again at +the bent old figure of her aunt in her tall chair, and listening to the +rip of the needle through the silk. Could she have done otherwise? Was +her interference and advice after all but a piece of mad chivalry, +unnecessary and unpractical?</p> + +<p>And yet she knew that she would do it again, if the same circumstances +arose. It would be impossible to do otherwise. Reason was against it; +Mr. Herries had hinted as much with a quick lifting of his bushy +eyebrows as she had told him the story. It would have made no difference +to Cromwell—ah! but she had not done it for that; it was for the sake +of Ralph himself; that he might not lose the one opportunity that came +to him of making a movement back towards the honour he had forfeited.</p> + +<p>But it was no less torture to think of it all, as she sat here. She had +faced the question before; but now the misery she had watched during +these last three weeks had driven it home. Day by day she had seen the +old father’s face grow lined and haggard as the suspense gnawed at his +heart; she had watched him at meals—had seen him sit in bewildered +grief, striving for self-control and hope—had seen him, as the light +faded in the parlour upstairs, sink deeper into himself; his eyes hidden +by his hand, and his grey pointed beard twitching at the trembling of +his mouth. Once or twice she had met his eyes fixed on hers, in a +questioning stare, and had known what was in his heart—a simple, +unreproachful wonder at the strange events that had made her so +intimately responsible for his son’s happiness.</p> + +<p>She thought of Margaret too, as she sat there; of the poor girl who had +so rested on her, believed in her, loved her. There she was now at +Overfield, living in a nightmare of suspense, watching so eagerly for +the scanty letters, disappointed every time of the good news for which +she hoped....</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The burden was an intolerable one. Beatrice was scarcely conscious of +where she sat or for what she waited. She was living over again every +detail of her relations with Ralph. She remembered how she had seen him +at first at Chelsea; how he had come out with Master More from the door +of the New Building and across the grass. She had been twisting a +grass-ring then as she listened to the talk, and had tossed it on to the +dog’s back. Then, day by day she had met him; he had come at all hours; +and she had watched him, for she thought she had found a man. She +remembered how her interest had deepened; how suddenly her heart had +leapt that evening when she came into the hall and found him sitting in +the dark. Then, step by step, the friendship had grown till it had +revealed its radiant face at the bitterness of Chris’s words in the +house at Westminster. Then her life had become magical; all the world +cried “Ralph” to her; the trumpets she heard sounded to his praise; the +sunsets had shone for him and her. Then came the news of the Visitors’ +work; and her heart had begun to question her insistently; the questions +had become affirmation; and in one passionate hour she had gone to him, +scourged him with her tongue, and left him. She had seen him again once +or twice in the years that followed; had watched him from a window hung +with tapestries in Cheapside, as he rode down beside the King; and had +not dared to ask herself what her heart so longed to tell her. Then had +come the mother’s question; and the falling of the veils.</p> + +<p>Then he had called her; she never doubted that; as she sat alone in her +room one evening. It had come, thin and piteous;—“Beatrice, Beatrice.” +He needed her, and she had gone, and meddled with his life once more.</p> + +<p>And he lay in the Tower....</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>“Beatrice, my child.”</p> + +<p>She turned from the window, her eyes blind with tears; and in a moment +was kneeling at her aunt’s side, her face buried in her lap, and felt +those kindly old hands passing over her hair. She heard a murmur over +her head, but scarcely caught a word. There was but one thing she +needed, and that—</p> + +<p>Then she knelt suddenly upright listening, and the caressing hand was +still.</p> + +<p>“Beatrice, my dear, Beatrice.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There were footsteps on the stairs outside, eager and urgent. The girl +rose to her feet, and stood there, swaying a little with a restrained +expectation.</p> + +<p>Then the door was open, and Chris was there, flushed and radiant, with +the level evening light full on his face.</p> + +<p>“It is all well,” he cried, “my Lord will take us to the King.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_4X">CHAPTER X<br><span class="small">PLACENTIA</span></h4></div> + + +<p>The river-front of Greenwich House was a magnificent sight as the four +men came up to it one morning nearly three weeks later. The long +two-storied row of brick buildings which Henry had named Placentia, with +their lines of windows broken by the two clusters of slender towers, and +porticos beneath, were fronted by broad platforms and a strip of turf +with steps leading down to the water, and at each of these entrances +there continually moved brilliant figures, sentries with the sunlight +flashing on their steel caps and pike-points, servants in the royal +livery, watermen in their blue and badges.</p> + +<p>Here and there at the foot of the steps rocked gaudy barges, a mass of +gilding and colour, with broad low canopies at the stern, and flags +drooping at the prow; wherries moved to and fro, like water-beetles, +shooting across from bank to bank with passengers, above and below the +palace, or pausing with uplifted oars as the stream swept them down, for +the visitors to stare and marvel at the great buildings. Behind rose up +the green masses of trees against the sloping park. And over all lay the +July sky, solemn flakes of cloud drifting across a field of intense +blue.</p> + +<p>There had been a delay in the fulfilment of the Archbishop’s promise; at +one time he himself was away in the country on affairs, at another time +the King was too much pressed, Cranmer reported, to have such a matter +brought before him; and then suddenly a messenger had come across from +Lambeth with a letter, bidding them present themselves at Greenwich on +the following morning; for the day following that had been fixed for +Cromwell’s execution, and the Archbishop hoped that the King would be +ready to hear a word on behalf of the agent whose loyalty had failed to +save his master.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The boatman suddenly backed water with his left-hand oar, took a stroke +or two with his right, glancing over his shoulder; and the boat slid up +to the foot of the steps.</p> + +<p>A couple of watermen were already waiting there, in the Archbishop’s +livery, and steadied the boat for the four gentlemen to step out; and a +moment later the four were standing on the platform, looking about them.</p> + +<p>They were at one of the smaller entrances to the palace, up-stream. A +hundred yards further down was the royal entrance, canopied and +carpeted, with the King’s barge rocking at the foot, a number of +servants coming and going on the platform, and the great state windows +overlooking all; but here they were in comparative quiet. A small +doorway with its buff and steel-clad sentry before it opened on their +right into the interior of the palace.</p> + +<p>One of the watermen saluted the party.</p> + +<p>“Master Torridon?” he said.</p> + +<p>Chris assented.</p> + +<p>“My Lord bade me take you through to him, sir, as soon as you arrived.”</p> + +<p>He went before them to the door, said a word to the guard, and then the +party passed on through the little entrance-hall into the interior. The +corridor was plainly and severely furnished with matting under-foot, +chairs here and there set along the wainscot, pieces of stuff with +crossed pikes between hanging on the walls; through the bow windows +they caught a glimpse now and again of a little court or two, a +shrubbery and a piece of lawn, and once a vista of the park where Henry +in his younger days used to hold his May-revels, a gallant and princely +figure all in green from cap to shoes, breakfasting beneath the trees.</p> + +<p>Continually, as they went, first in the corridor and then through the +waiting rooms at the end, they passed others going to and fro, servants +hurrying on messages, leisurely and magnificent persons with their hats +on, pages standing outside closed doors; and twice they were asked their +business.</p> + +<p>“For my Lord of Canterbury,” answered the waterman each time.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Chris that they must have gone an immense distance before +the waterman at last stopped, motioning them to go on, and a page in +purple livery stepped forward from a door.</p> + +<p>“For my Lord of Canterbury,” said the waterman for the last time.</p> + +<p>The page bowed, turned, and threw open the door.</p> + +<p>They found themselves in a square parlour, carpeted and hung with +tapestries from floor to ceiling. A second door opened beyond, in the +window side, into another room. A round table stood in the centre, with +brocaded chairs about it, and a long couch by the fireplace. Opposite +rose up the tall windows through which shone the bright river with the +trees and buildings on the north bank beyond.</p> + +<p>They had hardly spoken a word to one another since they had left +Charing, for all that was possible had been said during the weeks of +waiting for the Archbishop’s summons.</p> + +<p>Cranmer had received them kindly, though he had not committed himself +beyond promising to introduce them to the King, and had expressed no +opinion on the case.</p> + +<p>He had listened to them courteously, had nodded quietly as Chris +explained what it was that Ralph had done, and then almost without +comment had given his promise. It seemed as if the Archbishop could not +even form an opinion, and still less express one, until he had heard +what his Highness had to say.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Chris walked to the window and the lawyer followed him.</p> + +<p>“Placentia!” said Mr. Herries, “I do not wonder at it. It is even more +pleasing from within.”</p> + +<p>He stood, a prim, black figure, looking out at the glorious view, the +shining waterway studded with spots of colour, the long bank of the +river opposite, and the spires of London city lying in a blue heat-haze +far away to the left.</p> + +<p>Chris stared at it too, but with unseeing eyes. It seemed as if all +power of sensation had left him. The suspense of the last weeks had +corroded the surfaces of his soul, and the intensity to which it was now +rising seemed to have paralysed what was left. He found himself +picturing the little house at Charing where Beatrice was waiting, and, +he knew, praying; and he reminded himself that the next time he saw her +he would know all, whether death or life was to be Ralph’s sentence. The +solemn quiet and the air of rich and comfortable tranquillity which the +palace wore, and which had impressed itself on his mind even in the +hundred yards he had walked in it, gave him an added sense of what it +was that lay over his brother, the huge passionless forces with which he +had become entangled.</p> + +<p>Then he turned round. His father was sitting at the table, his head on +his hand; and Nicholas was staring round the grave room with the +solemnity of a child, looking strangely rustic and out of place in these +surroundings.</p> + +<p>It was very quiet as Chris leaned against the window-shutter, in his +secular habit, with his hands clasped behind his back, and looked. Once +a footstep passed in the corridor outside, and the floor vibrated +slightly to the tread; once a horn blew somewhere far away; and from the +river now and again came the cry of a waterman, or the throb of oars in +rowlocks.</p> + +<p>Sir James looked up once, opened his lips as if to speak; and then +dropped his head on to his hand again.</p> + +<p>The waiting seemed interminable.</p> + +<p>Chris turned round to the window once more, slipped his breviary out of +his pocket, and opened it. He made the sign of the cross and began—</p> + +<p>“<i>In nomine Patris et Filii....</i>”</p> + +<p>Then the second door opened; he turned back abruptly; there was a rustle +of silk, and the Archbishop came through in his habit and gown.</p> + +<p>Chris bowed slightly as the prelate went past him briskly towards the +table where Sir James was now standing up, and searched his features +eagerly for an omen. There was nothing to be read there; his smooth +large-eyed face was smiling quietly as its manner was, and his wide lips +were slightly parted.</p> + +<p>“Good-day, Master Torridon; you are in good time. I am just come from +His Highness, and will take you to him directly.”</p> + +<p>Chris saw his father’s face blanch a little as he bowed in return. +Nicholas merely stared.</p> + +<p>“But we have a few minutes,” went on the Archbishop. “Sir Thomas +Wriothesly is with him. Tell me again sir, what you wish me to say.”</p> + +<p>Sir James looked hesitatingly to the lawyer.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Herries,” he said.</p> + +<p>Cranmer turned round, and again made that little half-deprecating bow to +the priest and the lawyer. Mr. Herries stepped forward as Cranmer sat +down, clasping his hands so that the great amethyst showed on his +slender finger.</p> + +<p>“It is this, my Lord,” he said, “it is as we told your Lordship at +Lambeth. This gentleman desires the King’s clemency towards Mr. Ralph +Torridon, now in the Tower. Mr. Torridon has served—er—Mr. Cromwell +very faithfully. We wish to make no secret of that. He destroyed certain +private papers—though that cannot be proved against him, and you will +remember that we were doubtful whether his Highness should be informed +of that—”</p> + +<p>Sir James broke in suddenly.</p> + +<p>“I have been thinking of that, my Lord. I would sooner that the King’s +Grace knew everything. I have no wish that that should be kept from +him.”</p> + +<p>The Archbishop who had been looking with smiling attention from one to +the other, now himself broke in.</p> + +<p>“I am glad you think that, sir. I think so myself. Though it cannot be +proved as you say, it is far best that His Grace should know all. Indeed +I think I should have told him in any case.”</p> + +<p>“Then, my Lord, if you think well,” went on Mr. Herries, “you might lay +before his Grace that this is a free and open confession. Mr. Torridon +did burn papers, and important ones; but they would not have served +anything. Master Cromwell was cast without them.”</p> + +<p>“But Mr. Torridon did not know that?” questioned the Archbishop blandly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, my Lord,” cried Sir James, “he must have known—that my Lord +Cromwell—”</p> + +<p>The Archbishop lifted his hand delicately.</p> + +<p>“Master Cromwell,” he corrected.</p> + +<p>“Master Cromwell,” went on the old man, “he must have known that Mr. +Cromwell had others, more important, that would be certainly found and +used against him.”</p> + +<p>“Then why did he burn them? You understand, sir, that I only wish to +know what I have to say to his Grace.”</p> + +<p>“He burned them, my Lord, because he could not bear that his hand should +be lifted against his master. Surely that is but loyal and good!”</p> + +<p>The Archbishop nodded quietly three or four times.</p> + +<p>“And you desire that his Grace will take order to have Mr. Torridon +released?”</p> + +<p>“That is it, my Lord,” said the lawyer.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I understand. And can you give any pledge for Mr. Torridon’s good +behaviour?”</p> + +<p>“He has served Mr. Cromwell,” answered the lawyer, “very well for many +years. He has been with him in the matter of the Religious Houses; he +was one of the King’s Visitors, and assisted in the—the destruction of +Lewes priory; and that, my Lord, is a sufficient—”</p> + +<p>Sir James gave a sudden sob.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Herries, Mr. Herries—”</p> + +<p>Cranmer turned to him smiling.</p> + +<p>“I know what you feel, sir,” he said. “But if this is true—”</p> + +<p>“Why, it is true! God help him,” cried the old man.</p> + +<p>“Then that is what we need, sir; as you said just now. Yes, Mr. +Herries?”</p> + +<p>The lawyer glanced at the old man again.</p> + +<p>“That is sufficient guarantee, my Lord, that Mr. Ralph Torridon is no +enemy of his Grace’s projects.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot bear that!” cried Sir James.</p> + +<p>Nicholas, who had been looking awed and open-mouthed from one to the +other, took him by the arm.</p> + +<p>“You must, father,” he said. “It—it is devilish; but it is true. Chris, +have you nothing?”</p> + +<p>The monk came forward a step.</p> + +<p>“It is true, my Lord,” he said. “I was a monk of Lewes myself.”</p> + +<p>“And you have conformed,” put in the Archbishop swiftly.</p> + +<p>“I am living at home peaceably,” said Chris; “it is true that my brother +did all this, but—but my father wishes that it should not be used in +his cause.”</p> + +<p>“If it is true,” said the Archbishop, “it is best to say it. We want +nothing but the bare truth.”</p> + +<p>“But I cannot bear it,” cried the old man again.</p> + +<p>Chris came round behind the Archbishop to his father.</p> + +<p>“Will you leave it, father, to my Lord Archbishop? My Lord understands +what we think.”</p> + +<p>Sir James looked at him, dazed and bewildered.</p> + +<p>“God help us! Do you think so, Chris?”</p> + +<p>“I think so, father. My Lord, you understand all?”</p> + +<p>The Archbishop bowed again slightly.</p> + +<p>“Then, my Lord, we will leave it all in your hands.”</p> + +<p>There was a tap at the door.</p> + +<p>The Archbishop rose.</p> + +<p>“That is our signal,” he said. “Come, gentlemen, his Grace will be ready +immediately.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Herries sprang to the door and opened it, bowing as the Archbishop +went through, followed by Sir James and Nicholas. He and Chris followed +after.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There was a kind of dull recklessness in the monk’s heart as he went +through. He knew that he was in more peril than any of the others, and +yet he did not fear it. The faculty of fear had been blunted, not +sharpened, by his experiences; and he passed on towards the King’s +presence, almost without a tremor.</p> + +<p>The room was empty, except for a page by the further door, who opened it +as the party advanced; and beyond was a wide lobby, with doors all +round, and a staircase on the right as they came out. The Archbishop +made a little motion to the others as he went up, gathering his skirts +about him, and acknowledging with his disengaged hand the salute of the +sentry that stood in the lobby.</p> + +<p>At the top of the stairs was a broad landing; then a corridor through +which they passed, and on. They turned to the left, and as they went it +was apparent that they were near the royal apartments. There were thick +leather rugs lying here and there; along the walls stood magnificent +pieces of furniture, inlaid tables with tall dragon-jars upon them, +suits of Venetian armour elaborately worked in silver, and at the door +of every room that opened on the corridor there was standing a sentry or +a servant, who straightened themselves at the sight of the Archbishop. +He carefully acknowledged each salutation, and nodded kindly once or +twice.</p> + +<p>There was a heavy odour in the air, warm and fragrant, as of mingled +stuffs and musk, which even the wide windows set open towards the garden +on the right hand did not wholly obliterate.</p> + +<p>For the first time since leaving Charing, Chris’s heart quickened. The +slow stages of approach to the formidable presence had begun to do their +work; if he had seen the King at once he would not have been moved; if +he had had an hour longer, he would have recovered from his emotion; but +this swift ordered approach, the suggestiveness of the thick carpets +and furniture, the sight of the silent figures waiting, the musky smell +in the air, all combined now to work upon him; he began to fancy that he +was drawing nearer the presence of some great carrion-beast that had +made its den here, that was guarded by these discreet servitors, and to +which this smooth prelate, in the rôle of the principal keeper, was +guiding him. Any of these before him might mark the sanctuary of the +labyrinth, where the creature lurked; one might open, and a savage face +look out, dripping blood and slaver.</p> + +<p>A page threw back a door at last, and they passed through; but again +there was a check. It was but one more waiting room. The dozen persons, +folks of all sorts, a lawyer, a soldier, and others stood up and bowed +to the prelate.</p> + +<p>Then the party sat down near the further door in dead silence, and the +minutes began to pass.</p> + +<p>There were cries from the river once or twice as they waited; once a +footstep vibrated through the door, and twice a murmur of voices sounded +and died again.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly a hand was laid on the handle from the other side, and the +Archbishop rose, with Sir James beside him.</p> + +<p>There was still a pause. Then a voice sounded loud and near, and there +was a general movement in the room as all rose to their feet. The door +swung open and the Garter King-at-Arms came through, bland and smiling, +his puffed silk sleeves brushing against the doorpost as he passed. A +face like a mask, smooth and expressionless, followed him, and nodded to +the Archbishop.</p> + +<p>Cranmer turned slightly to his party, again made that little movement, +and went straight through.</p> + +<p>Chris followed with Mr. Herries.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_4XI">CHAPTER XI<br><span class="small">THE KING’S HIGHNESS</span></h4></div> + + +<p>As Chris knelt with the others, and the door closed behind him, he was +aware of a great room with a tall window looking on to the river on his +left, tapestry-hung walls, a broad table heaped with papers in the +centre, a high beamed ceiling, and the thick carpet under his knees.</p> + +<p>For a moment he did not see the King. The page who had beckoned them in +had passed across the room, and Chris’s eyes followed him out through an +inner door in the corner.</p> + +<p>Then, still on his knees, he turned his eyes to see the Archbishop going +towards the window, and up the step that led on to the dais that +occupied the floor of the oriel.</p> + +<p>Then he saw the King.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>A great figure was seated opposite the side door at which they had +entered on the broad seat that ran round the three sides of the window. +The puffed sleeves made the shoulders look enormous; a gold chain lay +across them, with which the gross fingers were playing. Beneath, the +vast stomach swelled out into the slashed trunks, and the scarlet legs +were crossed one over the other. On the head lay a broad plumed velvet +cap, and beneath it was the wide square face, at once jovial and solemn, +with the narrow slits of eyes above, and the little pursed mouth fringed +by reddish hair below, that Chris remembered in the barge years before. +The smell of musk lay heavy in the air.</p> + +<p>Here was the monstrous carrion-beast then at last, sunning himself and +waiting.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>So the party rested a moment or two, while the Archbishop went across to +the dais; he knelt again and then stood up and said a word or two +rapidly that Chris could not hear.</p> + +<p>Henry nodded, and turned his bright narrow eyes on to them; and then +made a motion with his hand. The Archbishop turned round and repeated +the gesture; and Chris rose in his place as did the others.</p> + +<p>“Master Torridon, your Grace,” explained the Archbishop, with a +deferential stoop of his shoulders. “Your Grace will remember—”</p> + +<p>The King nodded abruptly, and thrust his hand out.</p> + +<p>Chris touched his father behind.</p> + +<p>“Go forward,” he whispered; “kiss hands.”</p> + +<p>The old man went forward a hesitating step or two. The Archbishop +motioned sharply, and Sir James advanced again up to the dais, sank +down, and lifted the hand to his lips, and fell back for the others.</p> + +<p>When Chris’s turn came, and he lifted the heavy fingers, he noticed for +a moment a wonderful red stone on the thumb, and recognised it. It was +the Regal of France that he had seen years before at his visit to St. +Thomas’s shrine at Canterbury. In a flash, too, he remembered Cromwell’s +crest as he had seen it on the papers at Lewes—the demi-lion holding up +the red-gemmed ring.</p> + +<p>Then he too had fallen back, and the Archbishop was speaking.</p> + +<p>“Your Grace will remember that there is a Mr. Ralph Torridon in the +Tower—an agent of Mr. Cromwell’s—”</p> + +<p>The King’s face moved slightly, but he said nothing.</p> + +<p>—“Who is awaiting trial for destroying evidence. It is that, at least, +your Grace, that is asserted against him. But it has not been proved. +Master Torridon here tells me, your Highness, that it cannot be proved, +but that he wishes to acknowledge it freely on his son’s behalf.”</p> + +<p>Henry’s eyes shot back again at the old man, ran over the others, and +settled again on Cranmer’s face, who was standing beside him with his +back to the window.</p> + +<p>“He is here to plead for your Grace’s clemency. He wishes to lay before +your Grace that his son erred through over-faithfulness to Mr. +Cromwell’s cause; and above all that the evidence so destroyed has not +affected the course of justice—”</p> + +<p>“God’s Body!” jarred in the harsh voice suddenly, “it has not. Nor shall +it.”</p> + +<p>Cranmer waited a moment with downcast eyes; but the King was silent +again.</p> + +<p>“Master Torridon has persuaded me to come with him to your Grace to +speak for him. He is not accustomed—”</p> + +<p>“And who are these fellows?”</p> + +<p>Chris felt those keen eyes running over him.</p> + +<p>“This is Master Nicholas Maxwell,” explained the Archbishop, indicating +him. “Master Torridon’s son-in-law; and this, Mr. Herries—”</p> + +<p>“And the priest?” asked the King.</p> + +<p>“The priest is Sir Christopher Torridon, living with his father at +Overfield.”</p> + +<p>“Ha! has he always lived there then?”</p> + +<p>“No, your Grace,” said Cranmer smoothly, “he was a monk at Lewes until +the dissolution of the house.”</p> + +<p>“I have heard somewhat of his name,” mused Henry. “What is it, sir, that +I have heard of you?”</p> + +<p>“It was perhaps Mr. Ralph Torridon’s name that your Grace—” began +Cranmer.</p> + +<p>“Nay, nay, it was not. What was it, sir?”</p> + +<p>Chris’s heart was beating in his ears like a drum now. It had come, +then, that peril that had always been brooding on the horizon, and which +he had begun to despise. He had thought that there could be no danger in +his going to the King; it was so long since Lewes had fallen, and his +own part had been so small. But his Grace’s memory was good, it seemed! +Danger was close to him, incarnate in that overwhelming presence. He +said nothing, but stood awaiting detection.</p> + +<p>“It is strange,” said Henry. “I have forgot. Well, my Lord?”</p> + +<p>“I have told your Grace all,” explained the Archbishop. “Mr. Ralph +Torridon has not yet been brought to trial, and his father hopes that +your Grace will take into consideration these two things: that it was a +mistake of over-faithfulness that his son committed; and that it has not +hindered the course of justice.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well,” said Henry, “and that sounds to be in reason. We have none +too much of either faithfulness or justice in these days. And there is +no other charge against the fellow?”</p> + +<p>“There is no other charge, your Grace.”</p> + +<p>There fell a complete silence for a moment or two.</p> + +<p>Chris glanced up at his father, his own heart uplifted by hope, and saw +the old man’s face trembling with it too. The wrinkled eyes were full of +tears, and his lips quivered; and Chris could feel the short cloak that +hung against him shaking at his hand. Nicholas’s crimson face showed a +mingling of such emotion and solemnity that Chris was seized with an +internal hysterical spasm; but it suddenly died within him as he +brought his eyes round, and saw that the King was staring at him +moodily....</p> + +<p>The Archbishop’s voice broke in again.</p> + +<p>“Are we to understand, your Grace, that your Grace’s clemency is +extended to Mr. Ralph Torridon?”</p> + +<p>“Eh! then,” said the King peevishly, “hold your tongue, my Lord. I am +trying to remember. Where is Michael?”</p> + +<p>“Shall I call him, your Grace?”</p> + +<p>“Nay, then; let the lawyer ring the bell!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Herries sprang to the table at the King’s gesture, and struck the +little hand-bell that stood there. The door where the page had +disappeared five minutes before opened silently, and the servant stood +there.</p> + +<p>“Michael,” said the King, and the page vanished.</p> + +<p>There was an uncomfortable silence. Cranmer stood back a little with an +air of patient deference, and his quick eyes glanced up now and again at +the party before him. There was a certain uneasiness in his manner, as +Chris could see; but the monk presently dropped his eyes again, as he +saw that the King was once more looking at him keenly, with tight pursed +lips, and a puzzled look on his forehead.</p> + +<p>The thoughts began to race through Chris’s brain. He found himself +praying with desperate speed that Michael, whoever he was, might not +know; and that the King might not remember; and meanwhile through +another part of his being ran the thought of the irony of his situation. +Here he was, come to plead for his brother’s life, and on the brink of +having to plead for his own. The quiet room increased his sense of the +irony. It seemed so safe and strong and comfortable, up here in the rich +room, with the tall window looking on to the sunlit river, in a palace +girt about with guards; and yet the very security of it was his danger. +He had penetrated into the stronghold of the great beast that ruled +England: he was within striking distance of those red-stained claws and +teeth.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly the creature stirred and snarled.</p> + +<p>“I know it now, sir. You were one of the knaves that would not sign the +surrender of Lewes.”</p> + +<p>Chris lifted his eyes and dropped them again.</p> + +<p>“God’s Body,” said the King, “and you come here!”</p> + +<p>Again there was silence.</p> + +<p>Chris saw his father half turn towards him with a piteous face, and +perceived that the lawyer had drawn a little away.</p> + +<p>The King turned abruptly to Cranmer.</p> + +<p>“Did you know this, my Lord?”</p> + +<p>“Before God, I did not!”—but his voice shook as he answered.</p> + +<p>Chris was gripping his courage, and at last spoke.</p> + +<p>“We were told it was a free-will act, your Grace.”</p> + +<p>Henry said nothing to this. His eyes were rolling up and down the monk’s +figure, with tight, thoughtful lips. Cranmer looked desperately at Sir +James.</p> + +<p>“I did not know that, your Grace,” he said again. “I only knew that this +priest’s brother had been very active in your Grace’s business.”</p> + +<p>Henry turned sharply.</p> + +<p>“Eh?” he said.</p> + +<p>Sir James’s hands rose and clasped themselves instinctively. Cranmer +again looked at him almost fiercely.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Ralph Torridon was one of the Visitors,” explained the Archbishop +nervously.</p> + +<p>“And this fellow a monk!” cried the King.</p> + +<p>“They must have met at Lewes, your Grace.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! my Lord,” cried Sir James suddenly. “I entreated you—”</p> + +<p>Henry turned on him suddenly.</p> + +<p>“Tell us the tale, sir. What is all this?”</p> + +<p>Sir James took a faltering step forward, and then suddenly threw out his +hands.</p> + +<p>“Ah! your Grace, it is a bitter tale for a father to tell. It is true, +all of it. My son here was a monk at Lewes. He would not sign the +surrender. I—I approved him for it. I—I was there when my son Ralph +cast him out—”</p> + +<p>“God’s blood!” cried the King with a beaming face. “The one brother cast +the other out!”</p> + +<p>Chris saw the Archbishop’s face suddenly lighten as he watched the King +sideways.</p> + +<p>“But I cannot bear that he should be saved for that!” went on the old +man piteously. “He was a good servant to your Grace, but a bad one to +our Lord—”</p> + +<p>The Archbishop drew a swift breath of horror, and his hands jerked. But +Henry seemed not to hear; his little mouth had opened in a round hole of +amazed laughter, and he was staring at the old man without hearing him.</p> + +<p>“And you were there?” he said. “And your wife? And your aunts and +sisters?”</p> + +<p>“My wife is dead,” cried the old man. “Your Grace—”</p> + +<p>“And on which side was she?”</p> + +<p>“She was—was on your Grace’s side.”</p> + +<p>Henry threw himself back in his chair.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>For one moment Chris did not know whether it was wrath or laughter that +shook him. His face grew crimson, and his narrow eyes disappeared into +shining slits; his fat hands were on his knees, and his great body +shook. From his round open mouth came silent gusts of quick breath, and +he began to sway a little from side to side.</p> + +<p>Across the Archbishop’s face came a deferential and sympathetic smile, +and he looked quickly and nervously from the King to the group and back +again. Sir James had fallen back a pace at the King’s laughter, and +stood rigid and staring. Chris took a step close to him and gripped his +hand firmly.</p> + +<p>There was a footstep behind, and the King leaned forward again, wiping +the tears away with his sleeve.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Michael, Michael!” he sobbed, “here is a fine tale.”</p> + +<p>A dark-dressed man stepped forward from behind, and stood expectant.</p> + +<p>“God! What a happy family!” said the King. “And this fellow here?”</p> + +<p>He motioned towards Nicholas, with a feeble gesture. He was still weak +with laughter.</p> + +<p>The young squire moved forward a step, rigid and indignant.</p> + +<p>“I am against your Grace,” he said sharply.</p> + +<p>Henry grew suddenly grave.</p> + +<p>“Eh! that is no way to speak,” he said.</p> + +<p>“It is the only way I can speak,” said Nicholas, “if your Grace desires +the truth.”</p> + +<p>The King looked at him a moment; but the humour still shone in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Well, well. It is the truth I want. Michael, I sent for you to know +about the priest here; but I know now. And is it true that his brother +in the Tower—Ralph Torridon—was one of the Visitors?”</p> + +<p>The man pursed his lips a moment. He was standing close to Chris, a +little in front of him.</p> + +<p>“Yes, your Majesty.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! well. We must let him out, I suppose—if there is nothing more +against him. You shall tell me presently, Michael.”</p> + +<p>The Archbishop looked swiftly across at the party.</p> + +<p>“Then your Grace extends—”</p> + +<p>“Well, Michael, what is it?” interrupted the King.</p> + +<p>“It is a matter your Majesty might wish to hear in private,” said the +stranger.</p> + +<p>“Oh, step aside, my Lord. And you, gentlemen.”</p> + +<p>The King motioned down to the further end of the room, as Michael came +forward.</p> + +<p>The Archbishop stepped off the low platform, and led the way down the +floor; and the others followed.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Chris was in a whirl of bewilderment. He could see the King’s great face +interested and attentive as the secretary said something in his ear, and +then suddenly light up with amusement again.</p> + +<p>“Not a word, not a word,” whispered Henry harshly. “Very good, Michael.”</p> + +<p>The secretary then whispered once more. Chris could hear the sharp +sibilants, but no word. The King nodded once more, and the man stepped +down off the dais.</p> + +<p>“Prepare the admission, then,” said the King after him.</p> + +<p>The secretary bowed as he turned and went out of the room once more.</p> + +<p>Henry beckoned.</p> + +<p>“Come, gentlemen.”</p> + +<p>He watched them with a solemn joviality as they came up, the Archbishop +in front, the father and son together, and the two others behind.</p> + +<p>“You are a sad crew,” began the King, eyeing them pleasantly, and +sitting forward with a hand on either knee, “and I am astonished, my +Lord of Canterbury, at your companying with them. But we will have +mercy, and remember your son’s services, Master Torridon, in the past. +That alone will excuse him. Remember that. That alone. He is the +stronger man, if he turned out the priest there. And I remember your son +very well, too; and will forgive him. But I shall not employ him again. +And his forgiveness shall cover yours, Master Priest; but you must be +off—you must be off, sir,” he barked suddenly, “out of these realms in +a week. We will have no more treason from you.”</p> + +<p>The fierce overpowering personality flared out as he spoke, and Chris +felt his heart beat sick at the force of it.</p> + +<p>“And you two gentlemen,” went on the King, still smouldering, “you two +had best hold your tongues. We will not hear such talk in our presence +or out of it. But we will excuse it now. There, sir, have I said +enough?”</p> + +<p>Sir James dropped abruptly on his knees.</p> + +<p>“Oh! God bless your Grace!” he began, with the tears running down.</p> + +<p>Henry made an abrupt gesture.</p> + +<p>“You shall go to your son,” he said, “and see how he fares, and tell him +this. And she shall have the order of release presently, from me or +another.”</p> + +<p>Again the little mouth creased and twitched with amusement.</p> + +<p>“And I hope he will be happy with his mother. You may tell him that from +me.”</p> + +<p>The Archbishop looked up.</p> + +<p>“Mistress Torridon is dead, your Grace,” he said softly and +questioningly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” said the King; and thrust out his hand to be kissed.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Chris did not know how they got out of the room. They kissed hands +again; the old man muttered out his thanks; but he seemed bewildered by +the rush of events, and the supreme surprise. Chris, as he backed away +from the presence, saw for the last time those narrow royal eyes fixed +on him, still bright with amusement and expectancy, and the great +red-fringed cheeks creased about the tiny mouth with an effort to keep +back laughter. Why was the King laughing, he wondered?</p> + +<p>They waited a few minutes in the ante-room for the order that the +Archbishop had whispered to them should be sent out immediately. They +said nothing to one another—but the three sat close, looking into one +another’s eyes now and again in astonishment and joy, while Mr. Herries +stood a little apart solemn and happy at the importance of the rôle he +had played in the whole affair, and disdaining even to look at the rest +of the company who sat on chairs and watched the party.</p> + +<p>The secretary came to them in a few minutes, and handed them the order.</p> + +<p>“My Lord of Canterbury is detained,” he said; “he bade me tell you +gentlemen that he could not see you again.”</p> + +<p>Sir James was standing up and examining the order.</p> + +<p>“For four?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes,” said the secretary, and glanced at the four men.</p> + +<p>Chris put his hand on his father’s arm.</p> + +<p>“It is all well,” he whispered, “say nothing more. It will do for +Beatrice.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_4XII">CHAPTER XII<br><span class="small">THE TIDINGS AT THE TOWER</span></h4></div> + + +<p>They debated as they stood on the steps in the sunlight five minutes +later, as to whether they should go straight to the Tower, or back to +Charing and take Beatrice with them. They spoke softly to one another, +as men that have come out from darkness to light, bewildered by the +sense of freedom and freshness that lay round them. Instead of the +musk-scented rooms, the formidable dominating presence, the suspense and +the terror, the river laughed before them, the fresh summer breeze blew +up it, and above all Ralph was free, and that, not only of his prison, +but of his hateful work. It had all been done in those few sentences; +but as yet they could not realise it; and they regarded it, as they +regarded the ripples at their feet, the lapping wherry, and far-off +London city, as a kind of dazzling picture which would by and by be +found to move and live.</p> + +<p>The lawyer congratulated them, and they smiled back and thanked him.</p> + +<p>“If you will put me to shore at London Bridge,” said Mr. Herries—“I +have a little business I might do there—that is, if you will be going +so far.”</p> + +<p>Chris looked at his father, whose arm he was holding.</p> + +<p>“We must take her with us,” he said. “She has earned it.”</p> + +<p>Sir James nodded, dreamily, and turned to the boat.</p> + +<p>“To the London Bridge Stairs first,” he said.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There was a kind of piquant joy in their hearts as they crept up past +the Tower, and saw its mighty walls and guns across the water. He was +there, but it was not for long. They would see him that day, and +to-morrow—to-morrow at the latest, they would all leave it together.</p> + +<p>There were a hundred plans in the old man’s mind, as he leaned gently +forward and back to the motion of the boat and stared at the bright +water. Ralph and he should live at Overfield again; his son would surely +be changed by all that had come to him, and above all by his own +response to the demands of loyalty. They should learn to understand one +another better now—better than ever before. The hateful life lay behind +them of distrust and contempt; Ralph would come back to his old self, +and be again as he had been ten years back before he had been dazzled +and drugged by the man who was to die next day. Then he thought of that +man, and half-pitied him even then; those strong walls held nothing but +terror for him—terror and despair; the scaffold was already going up on +Tower Hill—and as the old man thought of it he leaned forward and tried +to see over the wharf and under the trees where the rising ground lay; +but there was nothing to be seen—the foliage hid it.</p> + +<p>Chris, also silent beside him, was full of thoughts. He would go abroad +now, he knew, with Margaret, as they had intended. The King’s order was +the last sign of God’s intention for him. He would place Margaret with +her own sisters at Bruges, and then himself go on to Dom Anthony and +take up the life again. He knew he would meet some of his old brethren +in Religion—Dom Anthony had written to say that three or four had +already joined him at Cluny; the Prior—he knew—had turned his back for +ever on the monastic life, and had been put into a prebendal stall at +Lincoln.</p> + +<p>And meanwhile he would have the joy of knowing that Ralph was free of +his hateful business; the King would not employ him again; he would live +at home now, and rule Overfield well: he and his father together. Ah! +and what if Beatrice consented to rule it with him! Surely now—He +turned and looked at his father as he thought of it, and their eyes met.</p> + +<p>Chris leaned a little closer.</p> + +<p>“Beatrice!” he said. “What if she—?”</p> + +<p>The old man nodded tenderly, and his drawn eyes shone in his face.</p> + +<p>“Oh! Chris—I was thinking that—”</p> + +<p>Then Nicholas came out of his maze.</p> + +<p>Ever since his entrance into the palace, except when he had flared out +at the King, he had moved and stood and sat in a solemn bewilderment. +The effect of the changed atmosphere had been to paralyse his simple and +sturdy faculties; and his face had grown unintelligent during the +process. More than once Chris had been seized with internal laughter, in +spite of the tragedy; the rustic squire was so strangely incongruous +with the situation. But he awoke now.</p> + +<p>“God bless me!” he said wonderingly. “It is all over and done. God—”</p> + +<p>Chris gave a short yelp of laughter.</p> + +<p>“Dear Nick,” he said, “yes. God bless you indeed! You spoke up well!”</p> + +<p>“Did I do right, sir,” said the other to Sir James, “I could not help +it. I—”</p> + +<p>“Oh! Nick,” said the old man, and leaned forward and put his hand on his +knee.</p> + +<p>Nicholas preened himself as he sat there; he would tell Mary how he had +bearded his Majesty, and what a diplomatist was her husband.</p> + +<p>“You did very well, sir,” put in Mr. Herries ironically. “You terrified +his Grace, I think.”</p> + +<p>Chris glanced at the lawyer; but Nicholas took it all with the greatest +complacency; tilted his hilt a little forward, smoothed his doublet, and +sat smiling and well-pleased.</p> + +<p>They reached the Stairs presently and put Mr. Herries ashore.</p> + +<p>“I will be at your house to-morrow, sir,” he said, “when you go to take +Mr. Ralph out of prison. The order will be there by the morning, I make +no doubt.”</p> + +<p>He bowed and smiled and moved off, a stiff figure deliberately picking +its way up the oozy steps to the crowded street overhead.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Beatrice’s face was at the window as they came up the tide half-an-hour +later. Chris stood up in the wherry, when he saw it, and waved his cap +furiously, and the face disappeared.</p> + +<p>She was at the landing stage before they reached it, a slender brilliant +figure in her hood and mantle, with her aunt beside her. Chris stood up +again and cried between his hands across the narrowing space that all +was well; and her face was radiant as the boat slipped up to the side, +and balanced there with the boatman’s hand on the stone edging.</p> + +<p>“It is all well,” said Chris again as he stood by her a moment later. +“He is to go free, and we are to tell him.”</p> + +<p>He dared not look at her; but he was aware that she stood very still and +rigid, and that her eyes were on his father’s.</p> + +<p>“Oh! Mistress Beatrice—”</p> + +<p>Chris began to understand it all a little better, a few minutes later, +as the boat was once again on its way downstream. He and Nicholas had +moved to the bows of the wherry, and the girl and the old man sat alone +in the stern.</p> + +<p>They were all very silent at first; Chris leaned on his elbow and stared +out at the sliding banks, the trees on this side and that, the great +houses with their high roofs and towers behind, and their stone steps in +front, the brilliant glare on the water, the hundreds of boats—great +barges flashing jewels from their dozen blades, spidery wherries making +this way and that; and his mind was busy weaving pictures. He saw it all +now; there had been that in Beatrice’s face during the moment he had +looked at her, that was more than sympathy. In the shock of that great +joy the veils had fallen, and her soul had looked out through her black +tearful eyes.</p> + +<p>There was little doubt now as to what would happen. It was not for their +sake alone, or for Ralph’s, that she had looked like that; she had not +said one word, but he knew what was unspoken.</p> + +<p>As they passed under London Bridge he turned a little and looked across +the boatman’s shoulder at the two as they sat there in the stern, and +what he saw confirmed him. The old man had flung an arm along the back +of the seat, and was leaning a little forward, talking in a low voice, +his face showing indeed the lines and wrinkles that had deepened more +than ever during these last weeks, but irradiated with an extraordinary +joy. And the girl was beside him, smiling with downcast eyes, turning a +quick look now and again as she sat there. Chris could see her scarlet +lips trembling, and her hands clasped on her knee, shifting a little now +and again as she listened. It was a strange wooing; the father courting +for the son, and the woman answering the son through the father; and +Chris understood what was the answer that she was giving.</p> + +<p>Nicholas was watching it too; and presently the two in the stern looked +up suddenly; first Beatrice and then Sir James, and their eyes flashed +joy across and across as the four souls met.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Five minutes later again they were at the Tower Stairs.</p> + +<p>Mr. Morris, who had been sent on by Mistress Jane Atherton when she had +heard the news, was there holding his horse by the bridle; and behind +him had collected a little crowd of idlers. He gave the bridle to one of +them, and came down the steps to help them out of the boat.</p> + +<p>“You have heard?” said Chris as he stepped out last.</p> + +<p>“Yes, father,” said the servant.</p> + +<p>Chris looked at him; and his mask-like face too seemed strangely lighted +up. There was still across his cheek the shadow of a mark as of an old +whip-cut.</p> + +<p>As they passed up the steps they became aware that the little crowd that +had waited at the top was only the detached fringe of a multitude that +had assembled further up the slope. It stretched under the trees as far +as they could see to right and left, from the outer wall of the Tower on +the one side, to where the rising ground on the left was hidden under +the thick foliage in the foreground. There was a murmur of talking and +laughter, the ringing of hand-bells, the cracking of whips and the cries +of children. The backs of the crowd were turned to the steps: there was +plainly something going on higher up the slope, and it seemed somewhat +away to the left.</p> + +<p>For a moment Chris did not understand, and he turned to Morris.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“The scaffold,” said the servant tersely.</p> + +<p>At the same moment high above the murmur of the crowd came the sound of +heavy resounding blows, as of wood on wood.</p> + +<p>Then Chris remembered; and for one moment he sickened as he walked. His +father turned and looked over his shoulder as he went with Beatrice in +front, and his eyes were eloquent.</p> + +<p>“I had forgotten,” said Chris softly. “God help him!”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>They turned in towards the right almost immediately to the low outer +gate of the fortress; and those for the first time remembered that the +order they carried was for four only.</p> + +<p>Nicholas instantly offered to wait outside and let Morris go in. Morris +flatly refused. There was a short consultation, and then Nicholas went +up to the sentry on guard with the order in his hand.</p> + +<p>The man looked at it, glanced at the party, and then turned and knocked +with his halberd on the great door behind, and in a minute or two an +officer came out in his buff and feathers. He took the order and ran his +eyes over it.</p> + +<p>Nicholas explained.</p> + +<p>The officer looked at him a moment without answering.</p> + +<p>“And the lady too?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes,” said Nicholas.</p> + +<p>“The lady wishes—” then he broke off. “You will have to see the +Lieutenant,” he went on. “I can let you all through to his lodgings.”</p> + +<p>They passed in with a yeoman to conduct them under the low heavy +vaulting and through to the open way beyond. On their right was the wall +between them and the river, and on their left the enormous towers and +battlements of the inner court.</p> + +<p>Chris walked with Morris behind, remembering the last time he was here +with the Prior all those years before. They had walked silently then, +too, but for another reason.</p> + +<p>They passed the low Traitor’s Gate on their right; Chris glanced at the +green lapping water beneath it as he went—Ralph had landed there—and +turned up the steep slope to the left under the gateway of the inner +court; and in a minute or two more were at the door of the Lieutenant’s +lodgings.</p> + +<p>There seemed a strange suggestiveness in the silence and order of the +wide ward that lay before them. The great White Tower dominated the +whole place on the further side, huge and menacing, pierced by its +narrow windows set at wide intervals; on the left, the row of towers +used as prisons diminished in perspective down to where the wall turned +at right angles and ran in behind the keep; and the great space enclosed +by the whole was almost empty. There were soldiers on guard here and +there at the doorways; a servant hurried across the wide sunlit ground, +and once, as they waited, a doctor in his short gown came out of one +door and disappeared into another.</p> + +<p>And here they waited for an answer to their summons, silent and happy in +their knowledge. The place held no terrors for them.</p> + +<p>The soldier knocked again impatiently, and again stood aside.</p> + +<p>Chris saw Nicholas sidle up to the man with something of the same awe on +his face that had been there an hour ago.</p> + +<p>“My Lord—Master Cromwell?” he heard him whisper, correcting himself.</p> + +<p>The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“There,” he said.</p> + +<p>There were three soldiers, Chris noticed, standing at the foot of one of +the Towers a little distance off. It was there, then, that Thomas +Cromwell, wool-carder, waited for death, hearing, perhaps, from his +window the murmur of the crowd beyond the moat, and the blows of mallet +on wood as his scaffold went up.</p> + +<p>Then the door opened, and after a word or two the soldier motioned them +in.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Again they had to wait.</p> + +<p>The Lieutenant, they were told, had been called away. He was expected +back presently.</p> + +<p>They sat down, still in silence, in the little ground-floor parlour. It +was a pleasant little room, with a wide hearth, and two windows looking +on to the court.</p> + +<p>But the suspense was not like that of the morning. Now they knew how it +must end. There would be a few minutes more, long perhaps to Ralph, as +he sat in his cell somewhere not far from them, knowing nothing of the +pardon that was on its way; and then the door would open, where day by +day for the last six weeks the gaoler had come and gone; and the faces +he knew would be there, and it would be from their lips that he would +hear the message.</p> + +<p>The old man and the girl still sat together in the window-seat, silent +now like the others. They had had their explanations in the boat, and +each knew what was in the other’s heart. Chris and Nicholas stood by the +hearth, Mr. Morris by the door; and there was not the tremor of a doubt +in any of them as to what the future held.</p> + +<p>Chris looked tranquilly round the room, at the little square table in +the centre, the four chairs drawn close to it, with their brocade +panels stained and well-worn showing at the back, the dark ceiling, the +piece of tapestry that hung over the side-table between the doors—it +was a martial scene, faded and discoloured, with ghostly bare-legged +knights on fat prancing horses all in inextricable conflict, a great +battleaxe stood out against the dusky foliage of an autumn tree; and a +stag with his fore feet in the air, ramped in the foreground, looking +over his shoulder. It was a ludicrously bad piece of work, picked up no +doubt by some former Lieutenant who knew more of military than artistic +matters, and had hung there—how long? Chris wondered.</p> + +<p>He found himself criticising it detail by detail, comparing it with his +own designs in the antiphonary; he had that antiphonary still at home; +he had carried it off from Lewes, when Ralph—Ralph!—had turned him +out. He had put it up into a parcel on the afternoon of the spoilers’ +arrival. He would show it to Ralph again now—in a day or two at +Overfield; they would laugh over it together; and he would take it with +him abroad, and perhaps finish it there. God’s work is not so easily +hindered after all.</p> + +<p>But all the while, the wandering stream of his thought was lighted and +penetrated by the radiant joy of his heart. It was all true, not a +dream!</p> + +<p>He glanced again at the two in the window-seat.</p> + +<p>His father was looking out of the lattice; but Beatrice raised her eyes +to his, and smiled at him.</p> + +<p>Sir James stood up.</p> + +<p>“The Lieutenant is coming,” he said.</p> + +<p>A moment later there were steps in the flagged passage; and a murmur of +voices. The soldier who had brought them to the lodgings was waiting +there with the order of admission, and was no doubt explaining the +circumstances.</p> + +<p>Then the door opened suddenly; and a tall soldierly-looking man, +grey-haired and clean-shaven, in an officer’s dress, stood there, with +the order in his hand, as the two in the window-seat rose to meet him.</p> + +<p>“Master Torridon,” he said abruptly.</p> + +<p>Sir James stepped forward.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“You have come to see Mr. Ralph Torridon whom we have here?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir—my son.”</p> + +<p>Nicholas stepped forward, and the Lieutenant nodded at him.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said the officer to him, “I could not admit you before—” he +stopped, as if embarrassed, and turned to Beatrice.</p> + +<p>“And this lady too?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Master Lieutenant,” said the old man.</p> + +<p>“But—but—I do not understand—”</p> + +<p>He looked at the radiant faces before him, and then dropped his eyes.</p> + +<p>“I suppose—you have not heard then?”</p> + +<p>Chris felt his heart leap, and then begin to throb furiously and +insistently. What had happened? Why did the man look like that? Why did +he not speak?</p> + +<p>The Lieutenant came a step forward and put his hand on the table. He was +looking strangely from face to face.</p> + +<p>Outside the court was very still. The footstep that had passed on the +flagstones a minute before had ceased; and there was no sound but the +chirp of a bird under the eaves.</p> + +<p>“You have not heard then?” said the Lieutenant again.</p> + +<p>“Oh! for God’s sake—” cried the old man suddenly.</p> + +<p>“I have just come from your son,” said the other steadily. “You are only +just in time. He is at the point of death.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h4 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_4XIII">CHAPTER XIII<br><span class="small">THE RELEASE</span></h4></div> + + +<p>It was morning, and they still sat in Ralph’s cell.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The attendant had brought in stools and a tall chair with a broken back, +and these were grouped round the low wooden bed; the old man in the +chair on one side, from where he could look down on his son’s face, with +Beatrice beside him, Chris and Nicholas on the other side. Mr. Morris +was everywhere, sitting on a form by the door, in and out with food and +medicine, at his old master’s bedside, lifting his pillow, turning him +in bed, holding his convulsive hands.</p> + +<p>He had been ill six days, the Lieutenant told them. The doctor who had +been called in from outside named the disease <i>phrenitis</i>. It was +certain that he would not recover; and a message to that effect had been +sent across on the morning before, with the usual reports to Greenwich.</p> + +<p>They had supped as they sat—silently—on what the gaoler brought; and +had slept by turns in the tall chair, wakening at a sound from the bed; +at the movement of the light across the floor as Morris slipped to and +fro noiselessly; at the chirp of the birds and the noises of the +stirring City as the daylight broadened on the wall, and the narrow +window grew bright and luminous.</p> + +<p>And now the morning was high, and they were waiting for the end.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>A little table stood by the door, white-covered, with two candles, +guttering now in their sockets, and a tall crucifix, ivory and black, +lifting its arms in the midst. Before it stood two veiled vessels.</p> + +<p>“He will speak before he passes,” the doctor had told them the evening +before; “I do not know whether he will be able to receive Viaticum.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Chris raised himself a little in his chair—he was stiff with leaning +elbows on knees; and he stretched out his feet softly; looking down +still at the bed.</p> + +<p>His brother lay with his back to him; the priest could see the black +hair, longer than Court fashion allowed now, the brown sinewy neck +beneath; and one arm outlined over his hip beneath the piled clothes. +The fingers were moving a little, contracting and loosening, contracting +and loosening; and he could hear the long slow breaths.</p> + +<p>Beyond sat Beatrice, upright and quiet, one hand in her lap, and the +other holding the father’s. The old man was bowed with his head on his +other hand, as he had been for the last hour, his back bent forward with +the burden, and his feet crossed before him.</p> + +<p>From outside the noises grew louder as the morning advanced. There had +been the sound of continual coming and going since it was light. Wheels +had groaned and rattled up out of the distance and ceased abruptly; and +the noise of hoofs had been like an endless patter over the +stone-paving. And now, as the hours passed a murmur had been increasing, +a strange sound like the wind in dry trees, as the huge crowd gathered.</p> + +<p>Beatrice raised her eyes suddenly.</p> + +<p>The fortress itself which had been quiet till now seemed to awaken +abruptly.</p> + +<p>The sound seemed to come to them up the stairs, but they had learnt +during those hours that all sounds from within came that way. There was +a trumpet-note or two, short and brazen; a tramp of feet for a moment, +the throb of drums; then silence again; then the noise of moving +footsteps that came and went in an instant. And as the sound came, Ralph +stirred.</p> + +<p>He swayed slowly over on to his back; his breath came in little groans +that died to silence again as he subsided, and his arm drew out and lay +on the bedclothes. Chris could see his face now in sharp profile against +Beatrice’s dark skirt, white and sharp; the skin was tightly stretched +over the nose and cheekbones, his long thin lips were slightly open, +there was a painful frown on his forehead, and his eyes squinted +terribly at the ceiling.</p> + +<p>A contraction seized the priest’s throat as he watched; the face was at +once so august and so pitiable.</p> + +<p>The lips began to move again, as they had moved during the night; it +seemed as if the dying man were talking and listening. The eyelids +twitched a little; and once he made a movement as if to rise up. Chris +was down on his knees in a moment, holding him tenderly down; he felt +the thin hands come up and fumble with his own, and noticed lines deepen +between the flickering eyelids. Then the hands lay quiet.</p> + +<p>Chris lifted his eyes and saw his father’s face and Beatrice’s watching. +Something of the augustness of the dying man seemed to rest on the grey +bearded lips and solemn eyes that looked down. Beatrice’s face was +steady and tender, and as the priest’s eyes met hers, she nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yes, speak to him,” she said.</p> + +<p>Chris threw a hand across the bed and rested it on the wooden frame, and +then lowered himself softly till his mouth was at the other’s ear.</p> + +<p>“Ralph,” he said, “Ralph, do you hear me?”</p> + +<p>Then he raised his face a little and watched.</p> + +<p>The eyelids were rising slowly; but they dropped again; and there came a +little faint babbling from the writhing lips; but no words were +intelligible. Then they were silent.</p> + +<p>“He hears,” said Beatrice softly.</p> + +<p>The priest bent low again; and as he did so, from outside came a strange +sound, as of a long monstrous groan from a thousand throats. Again the +dying man stirred; his hand sought his brother’s arm and gripped it with +a kind of feeble strength; then dropped again on to the coverlet.</p> + +<p>Chris hesitated a moment, and again glanced up; and as he did so, there +was a sound on the stairs. He threw himself back on his heels and looked +round, as the doctor came in with Morris behind him.</p> + +<p>He was a stout ruddy man, and moved heavily across the floor; but Ralph +seemed not to hear it.</p> + +<p>The doctor came to the end of the bed, and stood staring down at the +dying man’s face, frowning and pursing his lips; Chris watched him +intently for some sign. Then he came round by Beatrice, leaned over the +bed, and took Ralph’s wrist softly into his fingers. He suddenly seemed +to remember himself, and turned his face abruptly over his shoulder to +Sir James.</p> + +<p>“There is a man come from the palace,” he whispered harshly. “I suppose +it is the pardon.” And Chris saw him arch his eyebrows and purse his +lips again. Then he bent over Ralph once more.</p> + +<p>Then again the doctor jerked his head towards the window behind and +spoke across to Chris.</p> + +<p>“They have him out there,” he said; “Master Cromwell, I mean.”</p> + +<p>Then he rose abruptly.</p> + +<p>“He cannot receive Viaticum; and he will not be able to make his +confession. I should shrive him at once, sir, and anoint him.”</p> + +<p>“At once?” whispered Chris.</p> + +<p>“The sooner the better,” said the doctor; “there is no telling.”</p> + +<p>Chris rose swiftly from his knees, and made a sharp sign to Morris. Then +he sank down once more, looking round, and lifted the purple stole from +the floor where he had laid it the evening before; and even as he did so +his soul revolted.</p> + +<p>He looked up at Beatrice. Would not she understand the unchivalry of the +act? But the will in her eyes compelled him.—Yes, yes! Who could set a +limit to mercy?</p> + +<p>He slipped the strip over his shoulders, and again bent down over his +brother, with one arm across the motionless body. Beatrice and Sir James +were on their knees by now. Nicholas was busy with Morris at the further +end of the room. The doctor was gone.</p> + +<p>There was a profound silence now outside as the priest bent lower and +lower till his lips almost touched the ear of the dying man; and every +word of the broken abrupt sentences was audible to all in the room.</p> + +<p>“Ralph—Ralph—dear brother. You are at the point of death. I must +shrive you. You have sinned very deeply against God and man. I shall +anoint you afterwards. Make an act of sorrow in your heart for all your +sins; it will stand for confession. Think of Jesu’s love, and of His +death on the bitter cross—the wounds that He bore for us in love. Give +me a sign if you can that you repent.”</p> + +<p>Chris spoke rapidly, and leaned back a moment. Now he was terrified of +waiting—he did not know how long it would be; but for an intent instant +he stared down on the shadowed face.</p> + +<p>Again the eyelids flickered; the lips formed words, and ceased again.</p> + +<p>The priest glanced up, scarcely knowing why; and then again lowered +himself that if it were possible Ralph might hear.</p> + +<p>Then he spoke, with a tense internal effort as if to drive the grace +home....</p> + +<p>“<i>Ego te absolvo ab omnibus censuris et peccatis, in nomine Patris</i>—” +He raised himself a little and lifted his hand, moving it sideways +across and down as he ended—“<i>et Filii et Spiritus Sancti</i>.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The priest rose up once more, his duty driving his emotion down; he did +not dare to look across at the two figures beyond the bed, or even to +question himself again as to what he was doing.</p> + +<p>The two men at the further end of the room were waiting now; they had +lifted the candles and crucifix off the table, and set them on the bench +by the side.</p> + +<p>Chris went swiftly across the room, dropped on one knee, rose again, +lifted the veiled vessel that stood in the centre, with the little linen +cloth beneath, and set it all down on the bench. He knelt again, went a +step aside back to the table, lifted the other vessel, and signed with +his head.</p> + +<p>The two men grasped the ends of the table, and carried it across the +floor to the end of the bed. Chris followed and set down the sacred oils +upon it.</p> + +<p>“The cross and one candle,” he whispered sharply.</p> + +<p>A minute later he was standing by the bed once more.</p> + +<p>“<i>Oremus</i>—” he began, reading rapidly off the book that Beatrice held +steadily beneath his eyes.</p> + +<p>“<i>Almighty Everlasting God, Who through blessed James Thy Apostle, hast +spoken, saying, Is any sick among you, let him call the priests of the +Church</i>—” (The lips of the dying man were moving again at the sound of +the words; was it in protest or in faith?)—“... <i>that what is done +without through our ministry, may be wrought within spiritually by Thy +divine power, and invisibly by Thy healing; through our Lord Jesus +Christ. Amen.</i>”</p> + +<p>The lips were moving faster than ever on the pillow; the head was +beginning to turn from side to side, and the mouth lay open.</p> + +<p>“<i>Usquequo, Domine</i>” ... began Beatrice.</p> + +<p>Chris dipped his thumb in the vessel, and sank swiftly on to his knees.</p> + +<p>“<i>Per istam sanctam Unctionem</i>”—“<i>through this holy unction</i>....”</p> + +<p>(The old man leaned suddenly forward on to his knees, and steadied that +rolling head in his two hands; and Chris signed firmly on the eyelids, +pressing them down and feeling the fluttering beneath his thumb as he +did so.)</p> + +<p>“... <i>And His most loving mercy, may the Lord forgive thee whatsoever +thou hast sinned through sight.</i>”</p> + +<p>Ah! that was done—dear God! those eyes that had drooped and sneered, +that had looked so greedily on treasure—their lids shone now with the +loving-kindness of God.</p> + +<p>Chris snatched a morsel of wool that Morris put forward from behind, +wiped the eyelids, and dropped the fragment into the earthen basin at +his side.</p> + +<p>“<i>Per istam sanctam Unctionem</i>....”</p> + +<p>And the ears were anointed—the ears that had listened to Layton’s +filth, to Cromwell’s plotting; and to the cries of the oppressed.</p> + +<p>The nostrils; the lips that had lied and stormed and accused against +God’s people, compressed now in his father’s fingers—they seemed to +sneer even now, and to writhe under the soft oil; the hands that had +been laid on God’s portion, that had torn the vessels from the altar and +the cloth of gold from the treasury—those too were signed now, and lay +twitching on the coverlet.</p> + +<p>The bed clothes at the foot of the wooden framework were lifted and laid +back as Chris passed round to the end, and the long feet, icy cold, were +lying exposed side by side.</p> + +<p><i>Per Istam sanctam Unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, indulgeat +tibi Domimus quidquid peccasti per incessum pedum. Amen.</i></p> + +<p>Then they too were sealed with pardon, the feet that had been so swift +and unwearied in the war with God, that had trodden the sanctuary in His +despite, and trampled down the hearts of His saints—they too were +signed now with the mark of Redemption and lay again under the folded +coverlet at the end of their last journey.</p> + +<p>A convulsion tore at the priest’s heart.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Then suddenly in the profound silence outside there broke out an +indescribable clamour, drowning in an instant the murmur of prayers +within. It seemed as if the whole world of men were there, and roaring. +The sound poured up through the window, across the moat; the boards of +the flooring vibrated with the sound. There was the throb of drums +pulsating through the long-drawn yell, the screams of women, the barking +of dogs; and a moment later, like some devilish benediction, the bells +of Barking Church pealed out, mellow and jangling, in an exultation of +blood.</p> + +<p>Ralph struggled in his bed; his hands rose clutching at his throat, +tearing open his shirt before Beatrice’s fingers could reach them. The +breath came swift and hoarse through his open teeth, and his eyelids +flickered furiously. Then they opened, and his face grew quiet, as he +looked out across the room.</p> + +<p>“My—my Lord!” he said.</p> + +<p class="center p2 big">THE END. +</p> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 16375 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/16375-h/images/cover.jpg b/16375-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a6c1722 --- /dev/null +++ b/16375-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f0e1673 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #16375 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16375) diff --git a/old/16375-8.txt b/old/16375-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..640d739 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/16375-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17771 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The King's Achievement, 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: The King's Achievement + +Author: Robert Hugh Benson + +Release Date: July 27, 2005 [EBook #16375] +Last Updated: March 3, 2017 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KING'S ACHIEVEMENT *** + + + + +Produced by Geoff Horton and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +THE KING'S ACHIEVEMENT + +By Robert Hugh Benson + +Author of "By What Authority?" "The Light Invisible," +"A Book of the Love of Jesus," etc. + +_Non minus principi turpia sunt multa supplicia, quam medico multa +funera._ + +(Sen. de clem. 1, 24, 1.) + + + + +_I must express my gratitude once more to the Rev. Dom Bede Camm, +O.S.B., as well as to the Very Rev. Mgr. Barnes, who have done me great +service in revising proofs and making suggestions; to the Rev. E. +Conybeare, who very kindly provided the coins for the cover-design of +the book; to my mother and sister, to Eustace Virgo, Esq., to Dr. +Ross-Todd, and to others, who have been extremely kind in various ways +during the writing of this book in the summer and autumn of 1904._ + +_I must also express my great indebtedness to the Right Rev. Abbot +Gasquet, O.S.B., both on account of his invaluable books, which I have +used freely, and for his personal kindness in answering my questions._ + +ROBERT HUGH BENSON + +_The Catholic Rectory, +Cambridge, +July 14, 1905._ + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BOOK I. +THE KING'S WILL. + +CHAPTER + + I. A DECISION + II. A FORETASTE OF PEACE + III. THE ARRIVAL AT LEWES + IV. A COMMISSION + V. MASTER MORE + VI. RALPH'S INTERCESSION + VII. A MERRY PRISONER +VIII. A HIGHER STEP + IX. LIFE AT LEWES + X. THE ARENA + XI. A CLOSING-IN + XII. A RECOVERY +XIII. PRISONER AND PRINCE + XIV. THE SACRED PURPLE + XV. THE KING'S FRIEND + + +BOOK II. +THE KING'S TRIUMPH. + +PART I.--THE SMALLER HOUSES. + + I. AN ACT OF FAITH + II. THE BEGINNING OF THE VISITATION + III. A HOUSE OF LADIES + IV. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING + V. FATHER AND SON + VI. A NUN'S DEFIANCE + VII. ST. PANCRAS PRIORY +VIII. RALPH'S RETURN + IX. RALPH'S WELCOME + +PART II--THE FALL OF LEWES. + + I. INTERNAL DISSENSION + II. SACERDOS IN AETERNUM + III. THE NORTHERN RISING + IV. THE DESTRUCTION OF THE SEAL + V. THE SINKING SHIP + VI. THE LAST STAND + VII. AXES AND HAMMERS + + +BOOK III. + +THE KING'S GRATITUDE. + + I. A SCHEME + II. A DUEL + III. A PEACE-MAKER + IV. THE ELDER SON + V. THE MUMMERS + VI. A CATASTROPHE + VII. A QUESTION OF LOYALTY +VIII. TO CHARING + IX. A RELIEF-PARTY + X. PLACENTIA + XI. THE KING'S HIGHNESS + XII. THE TIDINGS AT THE TOWER +XIII. THE RELEASE + + + + +BENEFICO--IGNOTO +HVNC--LIBRVM +D. + + + + +THE KING'S ACHIEVEMENT + +CHAPTER I + +A DECISION + + +Overfield Court lay basking in warm June sunshine. The western side of +the great house with its new timber and plaster faced the evening sun +across the square lawns and high terrace; and the woods a couple of +hundred yards away cast long shadows over the gardens that lay beyond +the moat. The lawns, in their broad plateaux on the eastern side +descended by steps, in cool shadow to the lake that formed a +quarter-circle below the south-eastern angle of the house; and the +mirrored trees and reeds on the other side were broken, circle after +circle, by the great trout that were rising for their evening meal. The +tall front of the house on the north, formed by the hall in the centre +with the kitchen at its eastern end and the master's chamber on the +western, was faced by a square-towered gatehouse through which the +straight drive leading into the main road approached the house under a +lime-avenue; and on the south side the ground fell away again rapidly +below the chapel and the morning-room, in copse and garden and wild +meadow bright with buttercups and ox-eye daisies, down to the lake again +and the moat that ran out of it round the entire domain. + +The cobbled courtyard in the centre of the house, where the tall leaded +pump stood, was full of movement. Half a dozen trunks lay there that +had just been carried in from the luggage-horses that were now being led +away with patient hanging heads towards the stables that stood outside +the gatehouse on the right, and three or four dusty men in livery were +talking to the house-servants who had come out of their quarters on the +left. From the kitchen corner came a clamour of tongues and dishes, and +smoke was rising steadily from the huge outside chimney that rose beyond +the roofs. + +Presently there came clear and distinct from the direction of the +village the throb of hoofs on the hard road; and the men shouldered the +trunks, and disappeared, staggering, under the low archway on the right, +beside which the lamp extinguisher hung, grimy with smoke and grease. +The yard dog came out at the sound of the hoofs, dragging his chain +after him, from his kennel beneath the little cloister outside the +chapel, barked solemnly once or twice, and having done his duty lay down +on the cool stones, head on paws, watching with bright eyes the door +that led from the hall into the Court. A moment later the little door +from the masters chamber opened; and Sir James Torridon came out and, +giving a glance at the disappearing servants, said a word or two to the +others, and turned again through the hall to meet his sons. + +The coach was coming up the drive round toward the gatehouse, as he came +out on the wide paved terrace; and he stood watching the glitter of +brasswork through the dust, the four plumed cantering horses in front, +and the bobbing heads of the men that rode behind; and there was a grave +pleased expectancy on his bearded face and in his bright grey eyes as he +looked. His two sons had met at Begham, and were coming home, Ralph from +town sites a six months' absence, and Christopher from Canterbury, +where he had been spending a week or two in company with Mr. Carleton, +the chaplain of the Court. He was the more pleased as the house had been +rather lonely in their absence, since the two daughters were both from +home, Mary with her husband, Sir Nicholas Maxwell, over at Great Keynes, +and Margaret at her convent education at Rusper: and he himself had had +for company his wife alone. + +She came out presently as the carriage rolled through the archway, a +tall dignified figure of a woman, finely dressed in purple and black, +and stood by him, silently, a yard or two away, watching the carriage +out of steady black eyes. A moment later the carriage drew up at the +steps, and a couple of servants ran down to open the door. + +Ralph stepped out first, a tall man like both his parents, with a face +and slow gait extraordinarily like his mother's, and dressed in the same +kind of rich splendour, with a short silver-clasped travelling cloak, +crimson hose, and plumed felt cap; and his face with its pointed black +beard had something of the same steady impassivity in it; he was +flicking the dust from his shoulder as he came up the steps on to the +terrace. + +Christopher followed him, not quite so tall as the other, and a good ten +years younger, with the grey eyes of his father, and a little brown +beard beginning to sprout on his cheeks and chin. + +Ralph turned at the top of the steps + +"The bag," he said shortly; and then turned again to kiss his parents' +hands; as Christopher went back to the carriage, from which the priest +was just stepping out. Sir James asked his son about the journey. + +"Oh, yes," he said; and then added, "Christopher was late at Begham." + +"And you are well, my son?" asked his mother, as they turned to walk up +to the house. + +"Oh, yes!" he said again. + +Sir James waited for Christopher and Mr. Carleton, and the three +followed the others a few yards behind. + +"You saw her?" said his father. + +Christopher nodded. + +"Yes," he said, "I must speak to you, sir, before I tell the others." + +"Come to me when you are dressed, then. Supper will be in an hour from +now;" and he looked at his son with a kind of sharp expectancy. + +The courtyard was empty as they passed through, but half a dozen +servants stood crowded in the little flagged passage that led from it +into the kitchen, and watched Ralph and his mother with an awed interest +as they came out from the hall. Mr. Ralph had come down from the heart +of life, as they knew; had been present at the crowning of Anne Boleyn a +week before, had mixed with great folks; and what secrets of State might +there not be in that little strapped bag that his brother carried behind +him? + +When the two first had disappeared, the servants broke into talk, and +went back to the kitchen. + + * * * * * + +Lady Torridon, with her elder son and the chaplain, had to wait a few +minutes on the dais in the hall an hour later, before the door under the +musicians' gallery opened, and the other two came in from the master's +chamber. Sir James looked a little anxious as he came across the clean +strewed rushes, past the table at the lower end where the household sat, +but Christopher's face was bright with excitement. After a word or two +of apology they moved to their places. Mr. Carleton said grace, and as +they sat down the door behind from the kitchen opened, and the servants +came through with the pewter dishes. + +Ralph was very silent at first; his mother sat by him almost as silent +as himself; the servants sprang about noiseless and eager to wait on +him; and Sir James and the chaplain did most of the conversation, +pleasant harmless talk about the estate and the tenants; but as supper +went on, and the weariness of the hot journey faded, and the talk from +the lower tables grew louder, Ralph began to talk a little more freely. + +"Yes," he said, "the crowning went well enough. The people were quiet +enough. She looked very pretty in her robes; she was in purple velvet, +and her gentlemen in scarlet. We shall have news of her soon." + +Sir James looked up sharply at his son. They were all listening +intently; and even a servant behind Ralph's chair paused with a silver +jug. + +"Yes," said Ralph again with a tranquil air, setting down his Venetian +glass; "God has blessed the union already." + +"And the King?" asked his father, from his black velvet chair in the +centre. + +There fell a deeper silence yet as that name was mentioned. Henry +dominated the imagination of his subjects to an extraordinary degree, no +less in his heavy middle-age than in the magnificent strength and +capacity of his youth. + +But Ralph answered carelessly enough. He had seen the King too often. + +"The King looked pleased enough; he was in his throne. He is stouter +than when I saw him last. My Lord of Canterbury did the crowning; Te +Deum was sung after, and then solemn mass. There was a dozen abbots, I +should think, and my Lords of York and London and Winchester with two or +three more. My Lord of Suffolk bore the crown." + +"And the procession?" asked his father again. + +"That, too, was well enough. There came four chariots after the Queen, +full of ancient old ladies, at which some of the folks laughed. And then +the rest of them." + +They talked a few minutes about the coronation, Sir James asking most of +the questions and Ralph answering shortly; and presently Christopher +broke in-- + +"And the Lady Katharine--" he began. + +"Hush, my son," said his father, glancing at Ralph, who sat perfectly +still a moment before answering. + +"Chris is always eager about the wrong thing," he said evenly; "he is +late at Begham, and then asks me about the Princess Dowager. She is +still alive, if you mean that." + +Lady Torridon looked from one to the other. + +"And Master Cromwell?" she asked. + +"Master Cromwell is well enough. He asked me to give you both his +respects. I left him at Hackney." + + * * * * * + +The tall southern windows of the hall, above the pargetted plaster, had +faded through glowing ruby and blue to dusk before they rose from the +table and went down and through the passage into the little parlour next +the master's chamber, where they usually took their dessert. This part +of the house had been lately re-built, but the old woodwork had been +re-used, and the pale oak panels, each crowned by an elaborate foliated +head, gave back the pleasant flicker of the fire that burned between the +polished sheets of Flemish tiles on either side of the hearth. A great +globe stood in the corner furthest from the door, with a map of England +hanging above it. A piece of tapestry hung over the mantelpiece, +representing Diana bending over Endymion, and two tall candles in brass +stands burned beneath. The floor was covered with rushes. + +Mr. Carleton, who had come with them as far as the door, according to +custom, was on the point of saying-good-night, when Sir James called him +back. + +"Come in, father," he said, "we want you to-night. Chris has something +to tell us." + +The priest came in and sat down with the others, his face in shadow, at +the corner of the hearth. + +Sir James looked across at his younger son and nodded; and Chris, his +chin on his hand, and sitting very upright on the long-backed settle +beside the chaplain, began rather nervously and abruptly. + +"I--I have told Ralph," he said, "on the way here and you, sir; but I +will tell you again. You know I was questioning whether I had a vocation +to the religious life; and I went, with that in my mind, to see the Holy +Maid. We saw her, Mr. Carleton and I; and--and I have made up my mind I +must go." + +He stopped, hesitating a little, Ralph and his mother sat perfectly +still, without a word or sign of either sympathy or disapproval. His +father leaned forward a little, and smiled encouragingly. + +"Go on, my son." + +Chris drew a breath and leaned back more easily. + +"Well, we went to St. Sepulchre's; and she could not see us for a day or +two. There were several others staying with us at the monastery; there +was a Carthusian from Sheen--I forget his name." + +"Henry Man," put in the chaplain. + +"--And some others," went on Chris, "all waiting to see her. Dr. Bocking +promised to tell us when we could see her; and he came to us one morning +after mass, and told us that she was in ecstasy, and that we were to +come at once. So we all went to the nuns' chapel, and there she was on +her knees, with her arms across her breast." + +He stopped again. Ralph cleared his throat, crossed his legs, and drank +a little wine. + +"Yes?" said the knight questioningly. + +"Well--she said a great deal," went on Chris hurriedly. + +"About the King?" put in his mother who was looking at the fire. + +"A little about the King," said Chris, "and about holy things as well. +She spoke about heaven; it was wonderful to hear her; with her eyes +burning, and such a voice; and then she spoke low and deep and told us +about hell, and the devil and his torments; and I could hardly bear to +listen; and she told us about shrift, and what it did for the soul; and +the blessed sacrament. The Carthusian put a question or two to her, and +she answered them: and all the while she was speaking her voice seemed +to come from her body, and not from her mouth; and it was terrible to +see her when she spoke of hell; her tongue lay out on her cheek, and her +eyes grew little and afraid." + +"Her tongue in her cheek, did you say?" asked Ralph politely, without +moving. + +Chris flushed, and sat back silent. His father glanced quickly from one +to the other. + +"Tell us more, Chris," he said. "What did she say to you?" + +The young man leaned forward again. + +"I wish, Ralph--" he began. + +"I was asking--" began the other. + +"There, there," said Sir James. "Go on, Chris." + +"Well, after a while Dr. Bocking brought me forward; and told her to +look at me; and her eyes seemed to see something beyond me; and I was +afraid. But he told me to ask her, and I did. She said nothing for a +while; and then she began to speak of a great church, as if she saw it; +and she saw there was a tower in the middle, and chapels on either side, +and tombs beside the high altar; and an image, and then she stopped, and +cried out aloud 'Saint Pancras pray for us'--and then I knew." + +Chris was trembling violently with excitement as he turned to the priest +for corroboration. Mr. Carleton nodded once or twice without speaking. + +"Then I knew," went on Chris. "You know it was what I had in my mind; +and I had not spoken a word of Lewes, or of my thought of going there." + +"Had you told any?" asked his father. + +"Only Dr. Bocking. Then I asked her, was I to go there; but she said +nothing for a while; and her eyes wandered about; and she began to speak +of black monks going this way and that; and she spoke of a prior, and of +his ring; it was of gold, she said, with figures engraved on it. You +know the ring the Prior wears?" he added, looking eagerly at his father. + +Sir James nodded. + +"I know it," he said. "Well?" + +"Well, I asked her again, was I to go there; and then she looked at me +up and down; I was in my travelling suit; but she said she saw my cowl +and its hanging sleeves, and an antiphoner in my hands; and then her +face grew dreadful and afraid again, and she cried out and fell forward; +and Dr. Bocking led us out from the chapel." + +There was a long silence as Chris ended and leaned back again, taking +up a bunch of raisins. Ralph sighed once as if wearied out, and his +mother put her hand on his sleeve. Then at last Sir James spoke. + +"You have heard the story," he said, and then paused; but there was no +answer. At last the chaplain spoke from his place. + +"It is all as Chris said," he began, "I was there and heard it. If the +woman is not from God, she is one of Satan's own; and it is hard to +think that Satan would tell us of the sacraments and bid us use them +greedily, and if she is from God--" he stopped again. + +The knight nodded at him. + +"And you, sweetheart?" he said to his wife. + +She turned to him slowly. + +"You know what I think," she said. "If Chris believes it, he must go, I +suppose." + +"And you, Ralph?" + +Ralph raised himself in his chair. + +"Do you wish me to say what I think?" he asked deliberately, "or what +Chris wishes me to say? I will do either." + +Chris made a quick movement of his head; but his father answered for +him. + +"We wish you to say what you think," he said quietly. + +"Well, then," said Ralph, "it is this. I cannot agree with the father. I +think the woman is neither of God nor Satan; but that she speaks of her +own heart, and of Dr. Bocking's. I believe they are a couple of +knaves--clever knaves, I will grant, though perhaps the woman is +something of a fool too; for she deceives persons as wise even as Mr. +Carleton here by speaking of shrift and the like; and so she does the +priests' will, and hopes to get gain for them and herself. I am not +alone in thinking this--there are many in town who think with me, and +holy persons too." + +"Is Master Cromwell one of them?" put in Chris bitterly. + +Ralph raised his eyebrows a little. + +"There is no use in sneering," he said, "but Master Cromwell is one of +them. I suppose I ought not to speak of this; but I know you will not +speak of it again; and I can tell you of my own knowledge that the Holy +Maid will not be at St. Sepulchre's much longer." + +His father leaned forward. + +"Do you mean--" he began. + +"I mean that His Grace is weary of her prophesyings. It was all very +well till she began to meddle with matters of State; but His Grace will +have none of that. I can tell you no more. On the other hand if Chris +thinks he must be a monk, well and good; I do not think so myself; but +that is not my affair; but I hope he will not be a monk only because a +knavish woman has put out her tongue at him, and repeated what a knavish +priest has put into her mouth. But I suppose he had made up his mind +before he asked me." + +"He has made up his mind," said his father, "and will hold to it unless +reason is shown to the contrary; and for myself I think he is right." + +"Very well, then," said Ralph; and leaned back once more. + +The minutes passed away in silence for a while; and then Ralph asked a +question or two about his sisters. + +"Mary is coming over to hunt to-morrow with her husband," said Sir +James. "I have told Forrest to be here by nine o'clock. Shall you come +with us?" + +Ralph yawned, and sipped his Bordeaux. + +"I do not know," he said, "I suppose so." + +"And Margaret is at Rusper still," went on the other. "She will not be +here until August." + +"She, too, is thinking of Religion," put in Lady Torridon impassively. + +Ralph looked up lazily. + +"Indeed," he said, "then Mary and I will be the only worldlings." + +"She is very happy with the nuns," said his father, smiling, "and a +worldling can be no more than that; and perhaps not always as much." + +Ralph smiled with one corner of his mouth. + +"You are quite right, sir," he said. + +The bell for evening prayers sounded out presently from the turret in +the chapel-corner, and the chaplain rose and went out. + +"Will you forgive me, sir," said Ralph, "if I do not come this evening? +I am worn out with travelling. The stay at Begham was very troublesome." + +"Good-night, then, my son. I will send Morris to you immediately." + +"Oh, after prayers," said Ralph. "I need not deprive God of his prayers +too." + + * * * * * + +Lady Torridon had gone out silently after the chaplain, and Sir James +and Chris walked across the Court together. Overhead the summer night +sky was clear and luminous with stars, and the air still and fragrant. +There were a few lights here and there round the Court, and the tall +chapel windows shone dimly above the little cloister. A link flared +steadily on its iron bracket by the door into the hall, and threw waves +of flickering ruddy light across the cobble-stones, and the shadow of +the tall pump wavered on the further side. + +Sir James put his hand tenderly on Chris' shoulder. + +"You must not be angry at Ralph, my son," he said. "Remember he does not +understand." + +"He should not speak like that," said Chris fiercely. "How dare he do +so?" + +"Of course he should not; but he does not know that. He thinks he is +advising you well. You must let him alone, Chris. You must remember he +is almost mad with business. Master Cromwell works him hard." + + * * * * * + +The chapel was but dimly lighted as Chris made his way up to the high +gallery at the west where he usually knelt. The altar glimmered in the +dusk at the further end, and only a couple of candles burned on the +priest's kneeling stool on the south side. The rest was dark, for the +house hold knew compline by heart; and even before Chris reached his +seat he heard the blessing asked for a quiet night and a perfect end. It +was very soothing to him as he leaned over the oak rail and looked down +on the dim figures of his parents in their seat at the front, and the +heads of the servants below, and listened to the quiet pulsation of +those waves of prayer going to and fro in the dusk, beating, as a summer +tide at the foot of a cliff against those white steps that rose up to +the altar where a single spark winked against the leaded window beneath +the silk-shrouded pyx. He had come home full of excitement and joy at +his first sight of an ecstatic, and at the message that she had seemed +to have for him, and across these heightened perceptions had jarred the +impatience of his brother in the inn at Begham and in the carriage on +their way home, and above all his sharp criticism and aloofness in the +parlour just now. But he became quieter as he knelt now; the bitterness +seemed to sink beneath him and to leave him alone in a world of +peaceful glory--the world of mystic life to which his face was now set, +illuminated by the words of the nun. He had seen one who could see +further than he himself; he had looked upon eyes that were fixed on +mysteries and realms in which he indeed passionately believed, but which +were apt to be faint and formless sometimes to the weary eyes of faith +alone; and as a proof that these were more than fancies she had told him +too of what he could verify--of the priory at Lewes which she had never +visited, and even the details of the ring on the Prior's finger which he +alone of the two had seen. And then lastly she had encouraged him in his +desires, had seen him with those same wide eyes in the habit that he +longed to wear, going about the psalmody--the great _Opus Dei_--to which +he longed to consecrate his life. If such were not a message from God to +him for what further revelation could he hope? + +And as for Ralph's news and interests, of what value were they? Of what +importance was it to ask who sat on the Consort's throne, or whether she +wore purple velvet or red? These were little matters compared with those +high affairs of the soul and the Eternal God, of which he was already +beginning to catch glimpses, and even the whispers that ran about the +country places and of which Ralph no doubt could tell him much if he +chose, of the danger that threatened the religious houses, and of +Henry's intentions towards them--even these were but impotent cries of +the people raging round the throne of the Anointed. + +So he knelt here now, pacified and content again, and thought with +something of pity of his brother dozing now no doubt before the parlour +fire, cramped by his poor ideals and dismally happy in his limitations. + +His father, too, was content down below in the chapel. He himself had +at one time before his marriage looked towards the religious life; and +now that it had turned out otherwise had desired nothing more than that +he should be represented in that inner world of God's favourites by at +least one of his children. His daughter Margaret had written a week +earlier to say that her mind was turning that way, and now Christopher's +decision had filled up the cup of his desires. To have a priest for a +son, and above all one who was a monk as well was more than he had dared +to hope, though not to pray for; if he could not be one himself, at +least he had begotten one--one who would represent him before God, bring +a blessing on the house, and pray and offer sacrifice for his soul until +his time should be run out and he see God face to face. And Ralph would +represent him before men and carry on the line, and hand on the house to +a third generation--Ralph, at whom he had felt so sorely puzzled of +late, for he seemed full of objects and ambitions for which the father +had very little sympathy, and to have lost almost entirely that delicate +relation with home that was at once so indefinable and so real. But he +comforted himself by the thought that his elder son was not wholly +wasting time as so many of the country squires were doing round about, +absorbed in work that a brainless yeoman could do with better success. +Ralph at least was occupied with grave matters, in Cromwell's service +and the King's, and entrusted with high secrets the issue of which both +temporal and eternal it was hard to predict. And, no doubt, the knight +thought, in time he would come back and pick up the strands he had +dropped; for when a man had wife and children of his own to care for, +other businesses must seem secondary; and questions that could be +ignored before must be faced then. + +But he thought with a little anxiety of his wife, and wondered whether +his elder son had not after all inherited that kind of dry rot of the +soul, in which the sap and vigour disappear little by little, leaving +the shape indeed intact but not the powers. When he had married her, +thirty-five years before, she had seemed to him an incarnate mystery of +whose key he was taking possession--her silence had seemed pregnant with +knowledge, and her words precious pieces from an immeasurable treasury; +and then little by little he had found that the wide treasury was empty, +clean indeed and capacious, but no more, and above all with no promise +of any riches as yet unperceived. Those great black eyes, that high +forehead, those stately movements, meant nothing; it was a splendid +figure with no soul within. She did her duty admirably, she said her +prayers, she entertained her guests with the proper conversation, she +could be trusted to behave well in any circumstances that called for +tact or strength; and that was all. But Ralph would not be like that; he +was intensely devoted to his work, and from all accounts able in its +performance; and more than that, with all his impassivity he was capable +of passion; for his employer Sir Thomas Cromwell was to Ralph's eyes, +his father had begun to see, something almost more than human. A word +against that master of his would set his eyes blazing and his voice +trembling; and this showed that at least the soul was not more than +sleeping, or its powers more than misdirected. + +And meanwhile there was Chris; and at the thought the father lifted his +eyes to the gallery, and saw the faint outline of his son's brown head +against the whitewash. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A FORETASTE OF PEACE + + +It was not until the party was riding home the next day that Sir +Nicholas Maxwell and his wife were informed of Chris' decision. + + * * * * * + +They had had a fair day's sport in the two estates that marched with one +another between Overfield and Great Keynes, and about fifteen stags had +been killed as well as a quantity of smaller game. + +Ralph had ridden out after the party had left, and had found Sir +Nicholas at the close of the afternoon just as the last drive was about +to take place; and had stepped into his shelter to watch the finish. It +was a still, hot afternoon, and the air over the open space between the +copse in which they stood and the dense forest eighty yards away danced +in the heat. + +Ralph nodded to his brother-in-law, who was flushed and sunburnt, and +then stood behind, running his eyes up and down that sturdy figure with +the tightly-gaitered legs set well apart and the little feathered cap +that moved this way and that as the sportsman peered through the +branches before him. Once he turned fierce eyes backwards at the whine +of one of the hounds, and then again thrust his hot dripping face into +the greenery. + +Then very far away came a shout, and a chorus of taps and cries followed +it, sounding from a couple of miles away as the beaters after sweeping +a wide circle entered the thick undergrowth on the opposite side of the +wood. Sir Nicholas' legs trembled, and he shifted his position a little, +half lifting his strong spliced hunting bow as he did so. + +For a few minutes there was silence about them except for the distant +cries, and once for the stamp of a horse behind them. Then Sir Nicholas +made a quick movement, and dropped his hands again; a single rabbit had +cantered out from the growth opposite, and sat up with cocked ears +staring straight at the deadly shelter. Then another followed; and again +in a sudden panic the two little furry bodies whisked back into cover. + +Ralph marvelled at this strange passion that could set a reasonable man +twitching and panting like the figure in front of him. He himself was a +good rider, and a sufficiently keen hunter when his blood was up; but +this brother-in-law of his seemed to live for little else. Day after +day, as Ralph knew, from the beginning of the season to the end he was +out with his men and hounds, and the rest of the year he seemed to spend +in talking about the sport, fingering and oiling his weapons through +long mornings, and elaborating future campaigns, in which the quarries' +chances should be reduced to a minimum. + + * * * * * + +On a sudden Sir Nicholas's figure stiffened and then relaxed. A doe had +stepped out noiselessly from the cover, head up and feet close together, +sniffing up wind--and they were shooting no does this month. Then again +she moved along against the thick undergrowth, stepping delicately and +silently, and vanished without a sound a hundred yards along to the +left. + +The cries and taps were sounding nearer now, and at any moment the game +might appear. Sir Nicholas shifted his position again a little, and +simultaneously the scolding voice of a blackbird rang out in front, and +he stopped again. At the same moment a hare, mad with fright, burst out +of the cover, making straight for the shelter. Sir Nicholas' hands rose, +steady now the crisis had come; and Ralph leaning forward touched him on +the shoulder and pointed. + +A great stag was standing in the green gloom within the wood eighty +yards away, with a couple of does at his flank. Then as a shout sounded +out near at hand, he bolted towards the shelter in a line that would +bring him close to it. Ralph crouched down, for he had left his bow with +his man an hour earlier, and one of the hounds gave a stifled yelp as +Nicholas straightened himself and threw out his left foot. Either the +sound or the movement startled the great brown beast in front, and as +the arrow twanged from the string he checked and wheeled round, and went +off like the wind, untouched. A furious hiss of the breath broke from +Nicholas, and he made a swift sign as he turned to his horse; and in a +moment the two lithe hounds had leapt from the shelter and were flying +in long noiseless leaps after the disappearing quarry; the does, +confused by the change of direction, had whisked back into cover. A +moment later Nicholas too was after the hounds, his shoulders working +and his head thrust forward, and a stirrup clashed and jingled against +the saddle. + +Ralph sat down on the ground smiling. It gave him a certain pleasure to +see such a complete discomfiture; Nicholas was always so amusingly angry +when he failed, and so full of reasons. + +The forest was full of noises now; a crowd of starlings were protesting +wildly overhead, there were shouts far away and the throb of hoofs, and +the ground game was pouring out of the undergrowth and dispersing in +all directions. Once a boar ran past, grumbling as he went, turning a +wicked and resentful eye on the placid gentleman in green who sat on the +ground, but who felt for his long dirk as he saw the fury on the brute's +face and the foam on the tusks. But the pig thought discretion was best, +and hurried on complaining. More than one troop of deer flew past, the +does gathered round their lord to protect him, all swerving together +like a string of geese as they turned the corner of the shelter and +caught sight of Ralph; but the beaters were coming out now, whistling +and talking as they came, and gathering into groups of two or three on +the ground, for the work was done, and it had been hot going. + +Mary Maxwell appeared presently on her grey horse, looking slender and +dignified in her green riding-suit with the great plume shading her +face, and rode up to Ralph whom she had seen earlier in the afternoon. + +"My husband?" she enquired looking down at Ralph who was lying with his +hat over his eyes. + +"He left me just now," said her brother, "very hot and red, after a stag +which he missed. That will mean some conversation to-night, Minnie." + +She smiled down at him. + +"I shall agree with him, you know," she said. + +"Of course you will; it is but right. And I suppose I shall too." + +"Will you wait for him? Tell him we are going home by the mill. It is +all over now." + +Ralph nodded, and Mary moved off down the glade to join the others. + +Ralph began to wonder how Nicholas would take the news of Chris' +decision. Mary, he knew very well, would assent to it quietly as she +did to all normal events, even though they were not what she would have +wished; and probably her husband would assent too, for he had a great +respect for a churchman. For himself his opinions were divided and he +scarcely knew what he thought. From the temporal point of view Chris' +step would be an advantage to him, for the vow of poverty would put an +end to any claims upon the estate on the part of the younger son; but +Ralph was sufficiently generous not to pay much attention to this. From +the social point of view, no great difference would be made; it was as +respectable to have a monk for a brother as a small squire, and Chris +could never be more than this unless he made a good marriage. From the +spiritual point of view--and here Ralph stopped and wondered whether it +was very seriously worth considering. It was the normal thing of course +to believe in the sublimity of the religious life and its peculiar +dignity; but the new learning was beginning to put questions on the +subject that had very considerably affected the normal view in Ralph's +eyes. In that section of society where new ideas are generated and to +which Ralph himself belonged, there were very odd tales being told; and +it was beginning to be thought possible that monasticism had +over-reached itself, and that in trying to convert the world it had +itself been converted by the world. Ralph was proud enough of the honour +of his family to wonder whether it was an unmixed gain that his own +brother should join such ranks as these. And lastly there were the facts +that he had learnt from his association with Cromwell that made him +hesitate more than ever in giving Chris his sympathy. He had been +thinking these points over in the parlour the night before when the +others had left him, and during the day in the intervals of the sport; +and he was beginning to come to the conclusion that all things +considered he had better just acquiesce in the situation, and neither +praise nor blame overmuch. + +It was a sleepy afternoon. The servants had all gone by now, and the +horn-blowings and noises had died away in the direction of the mill; +there was no leisure for stags to bray, as they crouched now far away in +the bracken, listening large-eyed and trumpet-eared for the sounds of +pursuit; only the hum of insect life in the hot evening sunshine filled +the air; and Ralph began to fall asleep, his back against a fallen +trunk. + +Then he suddenly awakened and saw his brother-in-law, black against the +sky, looking down at him, from the saddle. + +"Well?" said Ralph, not moving. + +Nicholas began to explain. There were a hundred reasons, it seemed, for +his coming home empty-handed; and where were his men? + +"They are all gone home," said Ralph, getting up and stretching himself. +"I waited for you It is all over." + +"You understand," said Nicholas, putting his horse into motion, and +beginning to explain all over again, "you understand that it had not +been for that foul hound yelping, I should have had him here. I never +miss such a shot; and then when we went after him--" + +"I understand perfectly, Nick," said Ralph. "You missed him because you +did not shoot straight, and you did not catch him because you did not go +fast enough. A lawyer could say no more." + +Nicholas threw back his head and laughed loudly, for the two were good +friends. + +"Well, if you will have it," he said, "I was a damned fool. There! A +lawyer dare not say as much--not to me, at any rate." + +Ralph found his man half a mile further on coming to meet him with his +horse, and he mounted and rode on with Nicholas towards the mill. + +"I have something to tell you," he said presently. "Chris is to be a +monk." + +"Mother of God!" cried Nicholas, half checking his horse, "and when was +that arranged?" + +"Last night," went on Ralph. "He went to see the Holy Maid at St. +Sepulchre's, and it seems that she told him he had a vocation; so there +is an end of it." + +"And what do you all think of it?" asked the other. + +"Oh! I suppose he knows his business." + +Nicholas asked a number of questions, and was informed that Chris +proposed to go to Lewes in a month's time. He was already twenty-three, +the Prior had given his conditional consent before, and there was no +need for waiting. Yes, they were Cluniacs; but Ralph believed that they +were far from strict just at present. It need not be the end of Chris so +far as this world was concerned. + +"But you must not say that to him," he went on, "he thinks it is heaven +itself between four walls, and we shall have a great scene of farewell. +I think I must go back to town before it takes place: I cannot do that +kind of thing." + +Nicholas was not attending, and rode on in silence for a few yards, +sucking in his lower lip. + +"We are lucky fellows, you and I," he said at last, "to have a monk to +pray for us." + +Ralph glanced at him, for he was perfectly grave, and a rather intent +and awed look was in his eyes. + +"I think a deal of that," he went on, "though I cannot talk to a +churchman as I should. I had a terrible time with my Lord of Canterbury +last year, at Otford. He was not a hunter like this one, and I knew not +what else to speak of." + +Ralph's eyes narrowed with amusement. + +"What did you say to him?" he asked. + +"I forget," said Nicholas, "and I hope my lord did. Mary told me I +behaved like a fool. But this one is better. I hear. He is at Ashford +now with his hounds." + +They talked a little more about Chris, and Ralph soon saw on which side +Nicholas ranged himself. It was an unfeigned pleasure to this hunting +squire to have a monk for a brother-in-law; there was no knowing how +short purgatory might not be for them all under the circumstances. + +It was evident, too, when they came up with the others a couple of miles +further on, that Nicholas's attitude towards the young man had undergone +a change. He looked at him with a deep respect, refrained from +criticising his bloodless hands, and was soon riding on in front beside +him, talking eagerly and deferentially, while Ralph followed with Mary +and his father. + +"You have heard?" he said to her presently. + +"Father has just told me," she said. "We are very much pleased--dear +Chris!" + +"And then there is Meg," put in her father. + +"Oh! Meg; yes, I knew she would. She is made for a nun." + +Sir James edged his horse in presently close to Ralph, as Mary went in +front through a narrow opening in the wood. + +"Be good to him," he said. "He thinks so much of you." + +Ralph glanced up and smiled into the tender keen eyes that were looking +into his own. + +"Why, of course, sir," he said. + + * * * * * + +It was an immense pleasure to Chris to notice the difference in +Nicholas's behaviour towards him. There was none of that loud and +cheerful rallying that stood for humour, no criticisms of his riding or +his costume. The squire asked him a hundred questions, almost nervously, +about the Holy Maid and himself, and what had passed between them. + +"They say the Host was carried to her through the air from Calais, +Chris, when the King was there. Did you hear her speak of that?" + +Chris shook his head. + +"There was not time," he said. + +"And then there was the matter of the divorce--" Nicholas turned his +head slightly; "Ralph cannot hear us, can he? Well--the matter of the +divorce--I hear she denounced that, and would have none of it, and has +written to the Pope, too." + +"They were saying something of the kind," said Chris, "but I thought it +best not to meddle." + +"And what did she say to you?" + +Chris told him the story, and Nicholas's eyes grew round and fixed as he +listened; his mouth was a little open, and he murmured inarticulate +comments as they rode together up from the mill. + +"Lord!" he said at last, "and she said all that about hell. God save us! +And her tongue out of her mouth all the while! And did you see anything +yourself? No devils or angels?" + +"I saw nothing," said Chris. "I just listened, but she saw them." + +"Lord!" said Nicholas again, and rode on in profound silence. + +The Maxwells were to stay to supper at the Court; and drive home +afterwards; so there was no opportunity for Chris to go down and bathe +in the lake as he usually did in summer after a day's hunting, for +supper was at seven o'clock, and he had scarcely more than time to +dress. + +Nicholas was very talkative at supper, and poured out all that Chris had +told him, with his usual lack of discretion; for the other had already +told the others once all the details that he thought would interest +them. + +"They were talking about the divorce," he broke out, and then stopped +and eyed Ralph craftily; "but I had better not speak of that here--eh, +Chris?" + +Ralph looked blandly at his plate. + +"Chris did not mention that," he said. "Tell us, Nick." + +"No, no," cried Nicholas. "I do not want you to go with tales to town. +Your ears are too quick, my friend. Then there was that about the Host +flying from Calais, eh, Chris? No, no; you said you had heard nothing of +that." + +Chris looked up and his face was a little flushed. + +"No, Nick," he said. + +"There seems to have been a great deal that Chris did not tell us--" +began Ralph. + +Sir James glanced swiftly from his seat under the canopy. + +"He told us all that was needed," he said. + +"Aha!" broke out Nicholas again, "but the Holy Maid said that the King +would not live six months if he--" + +Chris's face was full of despair and misery, and his father interrupted +once more. + +"We had better not speak of that, my son," he said to Nicholas. "It is +best to leave such things alone." + +Ralph was smiling broadly with tight lips by now. + +"By my soul, Nick, you are the maddest wind-bag I have ever heard. All +our heads might go for what you have said to-night. Thank God the +servants are gone." + +"Nick," cried Mary imploringly, "do hold your tongue." + +Lady Torridon looked from one to the other with serene amusement, and +there was an odd pause such as generally fell when she showed signs of +speaking. Her lips moved but she said nothing, and ran her eyes over the +silver flagons before her. + +When the Maxwells had gone at last, and prayers were over, Chris slipped +across the Court with a towel, and went up to the priest's room over the +sacristy. Mr. Carleton looked up from his lamp and rose. + +"Yes, Chris," he said, "I will come. The moon will be up soon." + +They went down together through the sacristy door on to the level +plateaux of lawns that stretched step after step down to the dark lake. +The sky was ablaze with stars, and in the East there was a growing light +in the quarter where the moon was at its rising. The woods beyond the +water were blotted masses against the sky; and the air was full of the +rich fragrance of the summer night. The two said very little, and the +priest stopped on the bank as Chris stepped out along the little boarded +pier that ran out among the rushes into deep water. There was a scurry +and a cry, and a moor-hen dashed out from under cover, and sped across +the pond, scattering the silver points that hung there motionless, +reflected from the heaven overhead. + +Chris was soon ready, and stood there a moment, a pale figure in the +gloom, watching the shining dots rock back again in the ripples to +motionlessness. Then he lifted his hands and plunged. + +It seemed to him, as he rose to the surface again, as if he were +swimming between two sides. As he moved softly out across the middle, +and a little ripple moved before him, the water was invisible. There was +only a fathomless gulf, as deep below as the sky was high above, pricked +with stars. As he turned his head this way and that the great trees, +high overhead, seemed less real than those two immeasurable spaces above +and beneath. There was a dead silence everywhere, only broken by the +faint suck of the water over his shoulder, and an indescribably sweet +coolness that thrilled him like a strain of music. Under its influence, +again, as last night, the tangible, irritating world seemed to sink out +of his soul; here he was, a living creature alone in a great silence +with God, and nothing else was of any importance. + +He turned on his back, and there was the dark figure on the bank +watching him, and above it the great towered house, with its half-dozen +lighted windows along its eastern side, telling him of the world of men +and passion. + +"Look," came the priest's voice, and he turned again, and over the +further bank, between two tall trees, shone a great silver rim of the +rising moon. A path of glory was struck now across the black water, and +he pleased himself by travelling up it towards the remote splendour, +noticing as he went how shadows had sprung into being in that moment, +and how the same light that made the glory made the dark as well. His +soul seemed to emerge a stage higher yet from the limits in which the +hot day and the shouting and the horns and the crowded woods had +fettered it. How remote and little seemed Ralph's sneers and Nicholas's +indiscretions and Mary's pity! Here he moved round in a cooler and +serener mood. That keen mood, whether physical or spiritual he did not +care to ask, made him inarticulate as he walked up with the priest ten +minutes later. But Mr. Carleton seemed to understand. + +"There are some things besides the divorce best not talked about," he +said, "and I think bathing by starlight is one of them." + +They passed under the chapel window presently, and Chris noticed with an +odd sensation of pleasure the little translucent patch of colour between +the slender mullions thrown by the lamp within--a kind of reflex or +anti-type of the broad light shining over the water. + +"Come up for a while," went on the priest, as they reached the +side-entrance, "if you are not too tired." + +The two went through the sacristy-door, locking it behind them, and up +the winding stairs in the turret at the corner to the priest's chamber. +Chris threw himself down, relaxed and happy, in the tall chair by the +window, where he could look out and see the moon, clear of the trees +now, riding high in heaven. + +"That was a pity at supper," said the priest presently, as he sat at the +table. "I love Sir Nicholas and think him a good Christian, but he is +scarcely a discreet one." + +"Tell me, father," broke out Chris, "what is going to happen?" + +Mr. Carleton looked at him smiling. He had a pleasant ugly face, with +little kind eyes and sensitive mouth. + +"You must ask Mr. Ralph," he said, "or rather you must not. But he knows +more than any of us." + +"I wish he would not speak like that." + +"Dear lad," said the priest, "you must not feel it like that. Remember +our Lord bore contempt as well as pain." + +There was silence a moment, and then Chris began again. "Tell me about +Lewes, father. What will it be like?" + +"It will be bitterly hard," said the priest deliberately. "Christ Church +was too bitter for me, as you know. I came out after six months, and the +Cluniacs are harder. I do not know if I lost my vocation or found it; +but I am not the man to advise you in either case." + +"Ralph thinks it is easy enough. He told me last night in the carriage +that I need not trouble myself, and that monks had a very pleasant time. +He began to tell me some tale about Glastonbury, but I would not hear +it." + +"Ah," said the chaplain regretfully, "the world's standard for monks is +always high. But you will find it hard enough, especially in the first +year. But, as I said, I am not the man to advise you--I failed." + +Chris looked at him with something of pity in his heart, as the priest +fingered the iron pen on the table, and stared with pursed lips and +frowning forehead. The chaplain was extraordinarily silent in public, +just carrying on sufficient conversation not to be peculiar or to seem +morose, but he spoke more freely to Chris, and would often spend an hour +or two in mysterious talk with Sir James. Chris's father had a very +marked respect for the priest, and had had more than one sharp word with +his wife, ten years before when he had first come to the house, and had +found Lady Torridon prepared to treat her chaplain with the kind of +respect that she gave to her butler. But the chaplain's position was +secured by now, owing in a large measure to his own tact and +unobtrusiveness, and he went about the house a quiet, sedate figure of +considerable dignity and impressiveness, performing his duties +punctually and keeping his counsel. He had been tutor to both the sons +for a while, to Ralph only for a few months, but to Chris since his +twelfth birthday, and the latter had formed with him a kind of peaceful +confederacy, often looking in on him at unusual hours, always finding +him genial, although very rarely confidential. It was to Mr. Carleton, +too, that Chris owed his first drawings to the mystical life of prayer; +there was a shelf of little books in the corner by the window of the +priest's room, from which he would read to the boy aloud, first +translating them into English as he went, and then, as studies +progressed, reading the Latin as it stood; and that mysteriously +fascinating world in which great souls saw and heard eternal things and +talked familiarly with the Saviour and His Blessed Mother had first +dawned on the boy there. New little books, too, appeared from time to +time, and the volumes had overflowed their original home; and from that +fact Christopher gathered that the priest, though he had left the +external life of Religion, still followed after the elusive spirit that +was its soul. + +"But tell me," he said again, as the priest laid the pen down and sat +back in his chair, crossing his buckled feet beneath the cassock; "tell +me, why is it so hard? I am not afraid of the discipline or the food." + +"It is the silence," said the priest, looking at him. + +"I love silence," said Chris eagerly. + +"Yes, you love an hour or two, or there would be no hope of a vocation +for you. But I do not think you will love a year. However, I may be +wrong. But it is the day after day that is difficult. And there is no +relaxation; not even in the infirmary. You will have to learn signs in +your novitiate; that is almost the first exercise." + +The priest got up and fetched a little book from the corner cupboard. + +"Listen," he said, and then began to read aloud the instructions laid +down for the sign-language of novices; how they were to make a circle in +the air for bread since it was round, a motion of drinking for water, +and so forth. + +"You see," he said, "you are not even allowed to speak when you ask for +necessaries. And, you know, silence has its peculiar temptations as well +as its joys. There is accidie and scrupulousness and contempt of +others, and a host of snares that you know little of now." + +"But--" began Chris. + +"Oh, yes; it has its joys, and gives a peculiar strength." + +Chris knew, of course, well enough by now in an abstract way what the +Religious discipline would mean, but he wished to have it made more +concrete by examples, and he sat long with the chaplain asking him +questions. Mr. Carleton had been, as he said, in the novitiate at +Canterbury for a few months, and was able to tell him a good deal about +the life there; but the differences between the Augustinians and the +Cluniacs made it impossible for him to go with any minuteness into the +life of the Priory at Lewes. He warned him, however, of the tendency +that every soul found in silence to think itself different from others, +and of so peculiar a constitution that ordinary rules did not apply to +it. He laid so much stress on this that the other was astonished. + +"But it is true," said Chris, "no two souls are the same." + +The priest smiled. + +"Yes, that is true, too; no two sheep are the same, but the sheep nature +is one, and you will have to learn that for yourself. A Religious rule +is drawn up for many, not for one; and each must learn to conform +himself. It was through that I failed myself; I remembered that I was +different from others, and forgot that I was the same." + +Mr. Carleton seemed to take a kind of melancholy pleasure in returning +to what he considered his own failure, and Chris began to wonder whether +the thought of it was not the secret of that slight indication to +moroseness that he had noticed in him. + +The moon was high and clear by now, and Chris often leaned his cheek on +the sash as the priest talked, and watched that steady shining shield +go up the sky, and the familiar view of lawns and water and trees, +ghostly and mystical now in the pale light. + +The Court was silent as he passed through it near midnight, as the +household had been long in bed; the flaring link had been extinguished +two hours before, and the shadows of the tall chimneys lay black and +precise at his feet across the great whiteness on the western side of +the yard. Again the sense of the smallness of himself and his +surroundings, of the vastness of all else, poured over his soul; these +little piled bricks and stones, the lawns and woods round about, even +England and the world itself, he thought, as his mind shot out towards +the stars and the unfathomable spaces--all these were but very tiny +things, negligeable quantities, when he looked at them in the eternal +light. It was this thought, after all, that was calling him out of the +world, and had been calling him fitfully ever since his soul awoke eight +years ago, and knew herself and her God: and his heart expanded and grew +tremulous as he remembered once more that his vocation had been sealed +by a divine messenger, and that he would soon be gone out of this little +cell into the wide silent liberty of the most dear children of God. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE ARRIVAL AT LEWES + + +Ralph relented as the month drew on, and was among those who wished +Chris good-bye on the afternoon of the July day on which he was to +present himself at Lewes. The servants were all drawn up at the back of +the terrace against the hall, watching Ralph, even more than his +departing brother, with the fascinated interest that the discreet and +dignified friend of Cromwell always commanded. Ralph was at his best on +such occasions, genial and natural, and showed a pleasing interest in +the girths of the two horses, and the exact strapping of the couple of +bags that Chris was to take with him. His own man, too, Mr. Morris, who +had been with him ever since he had come to London, was to ride with +Chris, at his master's express wish; stay with him in the guest-house +that night, and return with the two horses and a precise report the next +morning. + +"You have the hares for my Lord Prior," he said impressively, looking at +the game that was hanging head downwards from the servant's saddle. +"Tell him that they were killed on Tuesday." + +Sir James and his younger son were walking together a few yards away in +deep talk; and Lady Torridon had caused a chair to be set for her at the +top of the terrace steps where she could at once do her duty as a +mother, and be moderately comfortable at the same time. She hardly spoke +at all, but looked gravely with her enigmatic black eyes at the horses' +legs and the luggage, and once held up her hand to silence a small dog +that had begun to yelp with excitement. + +"They must be going," said Ralph, when all was ready; and at the same +moment Chris and his father came up, Sir James's arm thrown over his +son's shoulders. + +The farewells were very short; it was impossible to indulge in sentiment +in the genial business-atmosphere generated by Ralph, and a minute later +Chris was mounted. Sir James said no more, but stood a little apart +looking at his son. Lady Torridon smiled rather pleasantly and nodded +her head two or three times, and Ralph, with Mr. Carleton, stood on the +gravel below, his hand on Chris's crupper, smiling up at him. + +"Good-bye, Chris," he said, and added with an unusual piety, "God keep +you!" + +As the two horses passed through the gatehouse, Chris turned once again +with swimming eyes, and saw the group a little re-arranged. Sir James +and Ralph were standing together, Ralph's arm thrust through his +father's; Mr. Carleton was still on the gravel, and Lady Torridon was +walking very deliberately back to the house. + + * * * * * + +The distance to Lewes was about fourteen miles, and it was not until +they had travelled some two of them, and had struck off towards Burgess +Hill that Chris turned his head for Mr. Morris to come up. + +It was very strange to him to ride through that familiar country, where +he had ridden hundreds of times before, and to know that this was +probably the last time that he would pass along those lanes, at least +under the same circumstances. It had the same effect on him, as a death +in the house would have; the familiar things were the same, but they +wore a new and strange significance. The few men and children he passed +saluted him deferentially as usual, and then turned fifty yards further +on and stared at the young gentleman who, as they knew, was riding off +on such an errand, and with such grave looks. + +Mr. Morris came up with an eager respectfulness at Chris's sign, keeping +a yard or two away lest the swinging luggage on his own horse should +discompose the master, and answered a formal question or two about the +roads and the bags, which Chris put to him as a gambit of conversation. +The servant was clever and well trained, and knew how to modulate his +attitude to the precise degree of deference due to his master and his +master's relations; he had entered Ralph's service from Cromwell's own +eight years before. He liked nothing better than to talk of London and +his experiences there, and selected with considerable skill the topics +that he knew would please in each case. Now he was soon deep on the +subject of Wolsey, pausing respectfully now and again for corroboration, +or to ask a question the answer to which he knew a good deal better than +Chris himself. + +"I understand, sir, that the Lord Cardinal had a wonderful deal of +furniture at York House: I saw some of it at Master Cromwell's; his +grace sent it to him, at least, so I heard. Is that so, sir?" + +Chris said he did not know. + +"Well, I believe it was so, sir; there was a chair there, set with +agates and pearl, that I think I heard Mr. Ralph say had come from +there. Did you ever see my lord, sir?" + +Chris said he had seen him once in a narrow street at Westminster, but +the crowd was so great he could not get near. + +"Ah! sir; then you never saw him go in state. I remember once seeing +him, sir, going down to Hampton Court, with his gentlemen bearing the +silver pillars before him, and the two priests with crosses. What might +the pillars mean, sir?" + +Again Chris confessed he did not know. + +"Ah, sir!" said Morris reflectively, as if he had received a +satisfactory answer. "And there was his saddle, Mr. Christopher, with +silver-gilt stirrups, and red velvet, set on my lord's mule. And there +was the Red Hat borne in front by another gentleman. At mass, too, he +would be served by none under the rank of an earl; and I heard that he +would have a duke sometimes for his lavabo. I heard Mr. Ralph say that +there was more than a hundred and fifty carts that went with the Lord +Cardinal up to Cawood, and that was after the King's grace had broken +with him, sir; and he was counted a poor man." + +Chris asked what was in the carts. + +"Just his stuff, sir," said Mr. Morris reverentially. + +The servant seemed to take a melancholy pleasure in recounting these +glories, but was most discreet about the political aspects of Wolsey, +although Chris tried hard to get him to speak, and he would neither +praise nor blame the fallen prelate; he was more frank, however, about +Campeggio, who as an Italian, was a less dangerous target. + +"He was not a good man, I fear, Mr. Christopher. They told some very +queer tales of him when he was over here. But he could ride, sir, Master +Maxwell's man told me, near as well as my Lord of Canterbury himself. +You know they say, sir, that the Archbishop can ride horses that none of +his grooms can manage. But I never liked to think that a foreigner was +to be sent over to do our business for us, and more than ever not such +an one as that." + +He proceeded to talk a good deal about Campeggio; his red silk and his +lace, his gout, his servants, his un-English ways; but it began to get a +little tiresome to Chris, and soon after passing through Ditchling, Mr. +Morris, having pointed across the country towards Fatton Hovel, and +having spoken of the ghost of a cow that was seen there with two heads, +one black and one white, fell gradually behind again, and Chris rode +alone. + +They were coming up now towards the downs, and the great rounded green +shoulders heaved high against the sky, gashed here and there by white +strips and patches where the chalk glared in the bright afternoon sun. +Ditchling beacon rose to their right, a hundred feet higher than the +surrounding hills, and the high country sloped away from it parallel +with their road, down to Lewes. The shadows were beginning to lie +eastwards and to lengthen in long blue hollows and streaks against the +clear green turf. + +Chris wondered when he would see that side of the downs again; his ride +was like a kind of farewell progress, and all that he looked on was +dearer than it had ever been before, but he comforted himself by the +thought of that larger world, so bright with revelation and so +enchanting in its mystery that lay before him. He pleased himself by +picturing this last journey as a ride through an overhung lane, +beautiful indeed, but dusky, towards shining gates beyond which lay +great tracts of country set with palaces alive with wonderful presences, +and watered by the very river of life. + +He did not catch sight of Lewes until he was close upon it, and it +suddenly opened out beneath him, with its crowded roofs pricked by a +dozen spires, the Norman castle on its twin mounds towering to his left, +a silver gleam of the Ouse here and there between the plaster and timber +houses as the river wound beneath its bridges, and beyond all the vast +masses of the Priory straight in front of him to the South of the town, +the church in front with its tall central tower, a huddle of convent +roofs behind, all white against the rich meadows that lay beyond the +stream. + +Mr. Morris came up as Chris checked his horse here. + +"See, Mr. Christopher," he said, and the other turned to see the town +gallows on the right of the road, not fifty yards away, with a ragged +shape or two hanging there, and a great bird rising heavily and winging +its way into the west. Mr. Morris's face bore a look of judicial +satisfaction. + +"We are making a sweep of them," he said, and as a terrible figure, all +rags and sores, with blind red eyes and toothless mouth rose croaking +and entreating from the ditch by the road, the servant pointed with +tight lips and solemn eyes to Hangman's Acre. Chris fumbled in his +purse, threw a couple of groats on to the ground, and rode on down the +hill. + +His heart was beating fast as he went down Westgate Lane into the High +Street, and it quickened yet further as the great bells in the Priory +church began to jangle; for it was close on vesper time, and +instinctively he shook his reins to hasten his beast, who was picking +his way delicately through the filth and tumbled stones that lay +everywhere, for the melodious roar seemed to be bidding him haste and be +welcome. Mr. Morris was close beside him, and remarked on this and that +as they went, the spire of St. Ann's away to the right, with St. +Pancras's Bridge, a swinging sign over an inn with Queen Katharine's +face erased, but plainly visible under Ann Boleyn's, the tall mound +beyond the Priory crowned by a Calvary, and the roof of the famous +dove-cote of the Priory, a great cruciform structure with over two +thousand cells. But Christopher knew it all better than the servant, +and paid little attention, and besides, his excitement was running too +high. They came down at last through Antioch Street, Puddingbag Lane, +and across the dry bed of the Winterbourne, and the gateway was before +them. + +The bells had ceased by now, after a final stroke. Mr. Morris sprang off +his horse, and drew on the chain that hung by the smaller of the two +doors. There was a sound of footsteps and a face looked out from the +grating. The servant said a word or two; the face disappeared, and a +moment later there was the turning of a key, and one leaf of the +horse-entrance rolled back. Chris touched his beast with his heel, +passed through on to the paved floor, and sat smiling and flushed, +looking down at the old lay-brother, who beamed up at him pleasantly and +told him he was expected. + +Chris dismounted at once, telling the servant to take the horses round +to the stables on the right, and himself went across the open court +towards the west end of the church, that rose above him fifty feet into +the clear evening air, faced with marble about the two doors, and +crowned by the western tower and the high central spire beyond where the +bells hung. On the right lay the long low wall of the Cellarer's +offices, with the kitchen jutting out at the lower end, and the +high-pitched refectory roof above and beyond it. The church was full of +golden light as he entered, darkening to dusk in the chapels on either +side, pricked with lights here and there that burned before the images, +and giving an impression of immense height owing to its narrowness and +its length. The air was full of rolling sound, sonorous and full, that +echoed in the two high vaults on this side and that of the high altar, +was caught in the double transepts, and lost in the chapels that opened +in a corona of carved work at the further end, for the monks were busy +at the _Opus Dei_, and the psalms rocked from side to side, as if the +nave were indeed a great ship ploughing its way to the kingdom of +heaven. + +There were a few seats at the western end, and into one of these +Christopher found his way, signing himself first from the stoup at the +door, and inclining before he went in. Then he leaned his chin on his +hands and looked eagerly. + +It was difficult to make out details clearly at the further end, for the +church was poorly lighted, and there was no western window; the glare +from the white roads, too, along which he had come still dazzled him, +but little by little, helped by his own knowledge of the place, he began +to see more clearly. + + * * * * * + +High above him ran the lines of the clerestory, resting on the rounded +Norman arches, broken by the beam that held the mighty rood, with the +figures of St. Mary and St. John on either side; and beyond, yet higher, +on this side of the high altar, rose the lofty air of the vault ninety +feet above the pavement. To left and right opened the two western +transepts, and from where he knelt he could make out the altar of St. +Martin in the further one, with its apse behind. The image of St. +Pancras himself stood against a pillar with the light from the lamp +beneath flickering against his feet. But Christopher's eyes soon came +back to the centre, beyond the screen, where a row of blackness on +either side in the stalls, marked where the monks rested back, and where +he would soon be resting with them. There were candles lighted at sparse +intervals along the book-rests, that shone up into the faces bent down +over the wide pages beneath; and beyond all rose the altar with two +steady flames crowning it against the shining halpas behind that cut it +off from the four groups of slender carved columns that divided the five +chapels at the extreme east. Half-a-dozen figures sat about the nave, +and Christopher noticed an old man, his white hair falling to his +shoulders, two seats in front, beginning to nod gently with sleep as the +soft heavy waves of melody poured down, lulling him. + +He began now to catch the words, as his ears grew accustomed to the +sound, and he, too, sat back to listen. + +"_Fiat pax in virtute tua: et abundantia in turribus tuis;" "Propter +fratres meos et proximos meos_:" came back the answer, "_loquebar pacem +de te_." And once more: "_Propter domum Domini Dei nostri: quaesivi bona +tibi_." + +Then there was a soft clattering roar as the monks rose to their feet, +and in double volume from the bent heads sounded out the _Gloria Patri_. + +It was overwhelming to the young man to hear the melodious tumult of +praise, and to remember that in less than a week he would be standing +there among the novices and adding his voice. It seemed to him as if he +had already come into the heart of life that he had felt pulsating round +him as he swam in the starlight a month before. It was this that was +reality, and the rest illusion. Here was the end for which man was made, +the direct praise of God; here were living souls eager and alert on the +business of their existence, building up with vibration after vibration +the eternal temple of glory in which God dwelt. Once he began to sing, +and then stopped. He would be silent here until his voice had been +authorized to join in that consecrated offering. + +He waited until all was over, and the two lines of black figures had +passed out southwards, and the sacristan was going round putting out +the lights; and then he too rose and went out, thrilled and excited, +into the gathering twilight, as the bell for supper began to sound out +from the refectory tower. + +He found Mr. Morris waiting for him at the entrance to the guest-house, +and the two went up the stairs at the porter's directions into the +parlour that looked out over the irregular court towards the church and +convent. + +Christopher sat down in the window seat. + +Over the roofs opposite the sky was still tender and luminous, with rosy +light from the west, and a little troop of pigeons were wheeling over +the church in their last flight before returning home to their huge +dwelling down by the stream. The porter had gone a few minutes before, +and Christopher presently saw him returning with Dom Anthony Marks, the +guest-master, whom he had got to know very well on former visits. In a +fit of shyness he drew back from the window, and stood up, nervous and +trembling, and a moment later heard steps on the stairs. Mr. Morris had +slipped out, and now stood in the passage, and Chris saw him bowing with +a nicely calculated mixture of humility and independence. Then a black +figure appeared in the doorway, and came briskly through. + +"My dear Chris," he said warmly, holding out his hands, and Chris took +them, still trembling and excited. + +They sat down together in the window-seat, and the monk opened the +casement and threw it open, for the atmosphere was a little heavy, and +then flung his arm out over the sill and crossed his feet, as if he had +an hour at his disposal. Chris had noticed before that extraordinary +appearance of ease and leisure in such monks, and it imperceptibly +soothed him. Neither would Dom Anthony speak on technical matters, but +discoursed pleasantly about the party at Overfield Court and the beauty +of the roads between there and Lewes, as if Chris were only come to pay +a passing visit. + +"Your horses are happy enough," he said. "We had a load of fresh beans +sent in to-day. And you, Chris, are you hungry? Supper will be here +immediately. Brother James told the guest-cook as soon as you came." + +He seemed to want no answer, but talked on genially and restfully about +the commissioners who had come from Cluny to see after their possessions +in England, and their queer French ways. + +"Dom Philippe would not touch the muscadel at first, and now he cannot +have too much. He clamoured for claret at first, and we had to give him +some. But he knows better now. But he says mass like a holy angel of +God, and is a very devout man in all ways. But they are going soon." + +Dom Anthony fulfilled to perfection the ideal laid down for a +guest-master in the Custumal. He showed, indeed, the "cheerful +hospitality to guests" by which "the good name of the monastery was +enhanced, friendships multiplied, enmities lessened, God honoured, and +charity increased." He recognised perfectly well the confused terror in +Christopher's mind and his anxiety to make a good beginning, and +smoothed down the tendency to awkwardness that would otherwise have +shown itself. He had a happy tranquil face, with wide friendly eyes that +almost disappeared when he laughed, and a row of even white teeth. + +As he talked on, Christopher furtively examined his habit, though he +knew every detail of it well enough already. He had, of course, left his +cowl, or ample-sleeved singing gown, in the sacristy on leaving the +church, and was in his black frock girded with the leather belt, and +the scapular over it, hanging to the ground before and behind. His hood, +Christopher noticed, was creased and flat as if he were accustomed to +sit back at his ease. He wore strong black leather boots that just +showed beneath his habit, and a bunch of keys, duplicates of those of +the camerarius and cook, hung on his right side. He was tonsured +according to the Benedictine pattern, and his lips and cheeks were +clean-shaven. + +He noticed presently that Christopher was eyeing him, and put his hand +in friendly fashion on the young man's knee. + +"Yes," he said, smiling, "yours is ready too. Dom Franklin looked it out +to-day, and asked me whether it would be the right size. But of the +boots I am not so sure." + +There was a clink and a footstep outside, and the monk glanced out. + +"Supper is here," he said, and stood up to look at the table--the +polished clothless top laid ready with a couple of wooden plates and +knives, a pewter tankard, salt-cellar and bread. There was a plain chair +with arms drawn up to it. The rest of the room, which Christopher had +scarcely noticed before, was furnished plainly and efficiently, and had +just that touch of ornament that was intended to distinguish it from a +cell. The floor was strewn with clean rushes; a couple of iron +candlesticks stood on the mantelpiece, and the white walls had one or +two religious objects hanging on them--a wooden crucifix opposite the +table, a framed card bearing an "Image of Pity" with an indulgenced +prayer illuminated beneath, a little statue of St. Pancras on a bracket +over the fire, and a clear-written copy of rules for guests hung by the +low oak door. + +Dom Anthony nodded approvingly at the table, took up a knife and rubbed +it delicately on the napkin, and turned round. + +"We will look here," he said, and went towards the second door by the +fire. Christopher followed him, and found himself in the bedroom, +furnished with the same simplicity as the other; but with an iron +bedstead in the corner, a kneeling stool beside it, with a little French +silver image of St. Mary over it, and a sprig of dried yew tucked in +behind. A thin leather-bound copy of the Little Office of Our Lady lay +on the sloping desk, with another book or two on the upper slab. Dom +Anthony went to the window and threw that open too. + +"Your luggage is unpacked, I see," he said, nodding to the press beside +which lay the two trunks, emptied now by Mr. Morris's careful hands. + +"There are some hares, too," said Christopher. "Ralph has sent them to +my Lord Prior." + +"The porter has them," said the monk, "they look strangely like a +bribe." And he nodded again with a beaming face, and his eyes grew +little and bright at his own humour. + +He examined the bed before he left the room again, turned back the +sheets and pressed them down, and the straw rustled drily beneath; +glanced into the sweating earthenware jug, refolded the coarse towel on +its wooden peg, and then smiled again at the young man. + +"Supper," he said briefly. + +Christopher stayed a moment with a word of excuse to wash off the dust +of his ride from his hands and face, and when he came back into the +sitting-room found the candles lighted, the wooden shutters folded over +the windows, and a basin of soup with a roast pigeon steaming on the +table. The monk was standing, waiting for him by the door. + +"I must be gone, Chris," he said, "but I shall be back before compline. +My Lord Prior will see you to-morrow. There is nothing more? Remember +you are at home now." + +And on Christopher's assurances that he had all he could need, he was +gone, leisurely and cheerfully, and his footsteps sounded on the stairs. + +Mr. Morris came up before Chris had finished supper, and as he silently +slipped away his plate and set another for the cheese, Chris remembered +with a nervous exultation that this would be probably the last time that +he would have a servant to wait on him. He was beginning to feel +strangely at home already; the bean soup was strong and savoury, the +beer cool; and he was pleasantly exercised by his ride. Mr. Morris, too, +in answer to his enquiries, said that he had been well looked after in +the servants' quarters of the guest-house, and had had an entertaining +supper with an agreeable Frenchman who, it seemed, had come with the +Cluniac commissioners. Respect for his master and a sense of the +ludicrous struggled in Mr. Morris's voice as he described the +foreigner's pronunciation and his eloquent gestures. + +"He's not like a man, sir," he said, and shook with reminiscent +laughter. + + * * * * * + +It was half an hour before Dom Anthony returned, and after hospitable +enquiries, sat down by Chris again in the wide window-seat and began to +talk. + +He told him that guests were not expected to attend the night-offices, +and that indeed he strongly recommended Chris doing nothing of the kind +at any rate that night; that masses were said at all hours from five +o'clock onwards; that prime was said at seven, and was followed by the +_Missa familiaris_ for the servants and work-people of the house. +Breakfast would be ready in the guest-house at eight; the chapter-mass +would be said at the half-hour and after the daily chapter which +followed it had taken place, the Prior wished to see Christopher. The +high mass was sung at ten, and dinner would be served at eleven. He +directed his attention, too, to the card that hung by the door on which +these hours were notified. + +Christopher already knew that for the first three or four days he would +have to remain in the guest-house before any formal step was taken with +regard to him, but he said a word to Father Anthony about this. + +"Yes," said the monk, "my Lord Prior will tell you about that. But you +will be here as a guest until Sunday, and on that day you will come to +the morning chapter to beg for admission. You will do that for three +days, and then, please God, you will be clothed as a novice." + +And once more he looked at him with deep smiling eyes. + +Chris asked him a few more questions, and Dom Anthony told him what he +wished to know, though protesting with monastic etiquette that it was +not his province. + +"Dom James Berkely is the novice-master," he said, "you will find him +very holy and careful. The first matter you will have to learn is how to +wear the habit, carry your hands, and to walk with gravity. Then you +will learn how to bow, with the hands crossed on the knees, so--" and he +illustrated it by a gesture--"if it is a profound inclination; and when +and where the inclinations are to be made. Then you will learn of the +custody of the eyes. It is these little things that help the soul at +first, as you will find, like--like--the bindings of a peach-tree, that +it may learn how to grow and bear its fruit. And the Rule will be given +you, and what a monk must have by rote, and how to sing. You will not be +idle, Chris." + +It was no surprise to Christopher to hear how much of the lessons at +first were concerned with external behaviour. In his visits to Lewes +before, as well as from the books that Mr. Carleton had lent him, he had +learnt that the perfection of the Religious Life depended to a +considerable extent upon minuti that were both aids to, and the result +of, a tranquil and recollected mind, the acquirement of which was part +of the object of the monk's ambition. The ideal, he knew, was the +perfect direction of every part of his being, of hands and eyes, as well +as of the great powers of the soul; what God had joined together man +must not put asunder, and the man who had every physical movement under +control, and never erred through forgetfulness or impulse in these +little matters, presumably also was master of his will, and retained +internal as well as external equanimity. + +The great bell began to toll presently for compline, and the +guest-master rose in the midst of his explanations. + +"My Lord Prior bade me thank you for the hares," he said. "Perhaps your +servant will take the message back to Mr. Ralph to-morrow. Come." + +They went down the stairs together and out into the summer twilight, the +great strokes sounding overhead in the gloom as they walked. Over the +high wall to the left shone a light or two from Lewes town, and beyond +rose up the shadowy masses of the downs over which Christopher had +ridden that afternoon. Over those hills, too, he knew, lay his old home. +As they walked together in silence up the paved walk to the west end of +the church, a vivid picture rose before the young man's eyes of the +little parlour where he had sat last night--of his silent mother in her +black satin; his father in the tall chair, Ralph in an unwontedly easy +and genial mood lounging on the other side and telling stories of town, +of the chaplain with his homely, pleasant face, slipping silently out at +the door. That was the last time that all that was his,--that he had a +right and a place there. If he ever saw it again it would be as a guest +who had become the son of another home, with new rights and relations, +and at the thought a pang of uncontrollable shrinking pricked at his +heart. + +But at the door of the church the monk drew his arm within his own for a +moment and held it, and Chris saw the shadowed eyes under his brows rest +on him tenderly. + +"God bless you, Chris!" he said. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A COMMISSION + + +Within a few days of Christopher's departure to Lewes, Ralph also left +Overfield and went back to London. + +He was always a little intolerant at home, and generally appeared there +at his worst--caustic, silent, and unsympathetic. It seemed to him that +the simple country life was unbearably insipid; he found there neither +wit nor affairs: to see day after day the same faces, to listen to the +same talk either on country subjects that were distasteful to him, or, +out of compliment to himself, political subjects that were unfamiliar to +the conversationalists, was a very hard burden, and he counted such +things as the price he must pay for his occasional duty visits to his +parents. He could not help respecting the piety of his father, but he +was none the less bored by it; and the atmosphere of silent cynicism +that seemed to hang round his mother was his only relief. He thought he +understood her, and it pleased him sometimes to watch her, to calculate +how she would behave in any little domestic crisis or incident that +affected her, to notice the slight movement of her lips and her eyelids +gently lowering and rising again in movements of extreme annoyance. But +even this was not sufficient compensation for the other drawbacks of +life at Overfield Court, and it was with a very considerable relief that +he stepped into his carriage at last towards the end of July, nodded and +smiled once more to his father who was watching him from the terrace +steps with a wistful and puzzled face, anxious to please, and heard the +first crack of the whip of his return journey. + +He had, indeed, a certain excuse for going, for a despatch-rider had +come down from London with papers for him from Sir Thomas Cromwell, and +it was not hard to assume a serious face and announce that he was +recalled by affairs; and there was sufficient truth in it, too, for one +of the memoranda bore on the case of Elizabeth Barton, the holy maid of +Kent, and announced her apprehension. Cromwell however, did not actually +recall him, but mentioned the fact of her arrest, and asked if he had +heard much said of her in the country, and what the opinion of her was +in that district. + + * * * * * + +The drive up to London seemed very short to him now; he went slowly +through the bundle of papers on which he had to report, annotating them +in order here and there, and staring out of the window now and again +with unseeing eyes. There were a dozen cases on which he was engaged, +which had been forwarded to him during his absence in the country--the +priest at High Hatch was reported to have taken a wife, and Cromwell +desired information about this; Ralph had ridden out there one day and +gossipped a little outside the parsonage; an inn-keeper a few miles to +the north of Cuckfield had talked against the divorce and the reigning +Consort; a mistake had been made in the matter of a preaching license, +and Cranmer had desired Cromwell to look into it; a house had been sold +in Cheapside on which Ralph had been told to keep a suspicious eye, and +he was asked his opinion on the matter; and such things as these +occupied his time fully, until towards four o'clock in the afternoon his +carriage rolled up to the horse-ferry at Lambeth, and he thrust the +papers back into his bag before stepping out. + +On arriving at his own little house in Westminster, the rent of which +was paid by his master, he left his other servants to carry up the +luggage, and set out himself again immediately with Morris in a hackney +carriage for Chancery Lane. + +As he went, he found himself for the hundredth time thinking of the +history of the man to whom he was going. + +Sir Thomas Cromwell was beginning to rise rapidly from a life of +adventure and obscurity abroad. He had passed straight from the +Cardinal's service to the King's three years before, and had since then +been knighted, appointed privy-councillor, Master of the Jewel-house, +and Clerk of the Hanaper in the Court of Chancery. At the same time he +was actively engaged on his amazing system of espionage through which he +was able to detect disaffection in all parts of the country, and thereby +render himself invaluable to the King, who, like all the Tudors, while +perfectly fearless in the face of open danger was pitiably terrified of +secret schemes. + +And it was to this man that he was confidential agent! Was there any +limit to the possibilities of his future? + +Ralph found a carriage drawn up at the door and, on enquiry, heard that +his master was on the point of leaving; and even as he hesitated in the +entrance, Cromwell shambled down the stairs with a few papers in his +hand, his long sleeveless cloak flapping on each step behind him, and +his felt plumed cap on his head in which shone a yellow jewel. + +His large dull face, clean shaven like a priest's, lighted up briskly as +he saw Ralph standing there, and he thrust his arm pleasantly through +his agent's. + +"Come home to supper," he said, and the two wheeled round and went out +and into the carriage. Mr. Morris handed the bag through the window to +his master, and stood bare-headed as the carriage moved off over the +newly laid road. + +It would have been a very surprising sight to Sir James Torridon to see +his impassive son's attitude towards Cromwell. He was deferential, eager +to please, nervous of rebuke, and almost servile, for he had found his +hero in that tremendous personality. He pulled out his papers now, shook +them out briskly, and was soon explaining, marking and erasing. Cromwell +leaned back in his corner and listened, putting in a word of comment now +and again, or dotting down a note on the back of a letter, and watching +Ralph with a pleasant, oblique look, for he liked to see his people +alert and busy. But he knew very well what his demeanour was like at +other times, and had at first indeed been drawn to the young man by his +surprising insolence of manner and impressive observant silences. + +"That is very well, Mr. Torridon," he said. "I will see to the license. +Put them all away." + +Ralph obeyed, and then sat back too, silent indeed, but with a kind of +side-long readiness for the next subject; but Cromwell spoke no more of +business for the present, only uttering short sentences about current +affairs, and telling his friend the news. + +"Frith has been burned," he said. "Perhaps you knew it. He was obstinate +to the end, my Lord Bishop reported. He threw Saint Chrysostom and Saint +Augustine back into their teeth. He gave great occasion to the funny +fellows. There was one who said that since Frith would have no +purgatory, he was sent there by my Lord to find out for himself whether +there be such a place or not. There was a word more about his manner of +going there, 'Frith frieth,' but 'twas not good. Those funny fellows +over-reach themselves. Hewet went with him to Smithfield and hell." + +Ralph smiled, and asked how they took it. + +"Oh, very well. A priest bade the folk pray no more for Frith than for a +dog, but Frith smiled on him and begged the Lord to forgive him his +unkind words." + +He was going on to tell him a little more about the talk of the Court, +when the carriage drove up to the house in Throgmorton Street, near +Austin Friars, which Cromwell had lately built for himself. + +"My wife and children are at Hackney," he said as he stepped out. "We +shall sup alone." + +It was a great house, built out of an older one, superbly furnished with +Italian things, and had a large garden at the back on to which looked +the windows of the hall. Supper was brought up almost immediately--a +couple of woodcocks and a salad--and the two sat down, with a pair of +servants in blue and silver to wait on them. Cromwell spoke no more word +of business until the bottle of wine had been set on the table, and the +servants were gone. And then he began again, immediately. + +"And what of the country?" he said. "What do they say there?" He took a +peach from the carved roundel in the centre of the table, and seemed +absorbed in its contemplation. + +Ralph had had some scruples at first about reporting private +conversations, but Cromwell had quieted them long since, chiefly by the +force of his personality, and partly by the argument that a man's duty +to the State over-rode his duty to his friends, and that since only talk +that was treasonable would be punished, it was simpler to report all +conversations in general that had any suspicious bearing, and that he +himself was most competent to judge whether or no they should be +followed up. Ralph, too, had become completely reassured by now that no +injury would be done to his own status among his friends, since his +master had never yet made direct use of any of his information in such a +manner as that it was necessary for Ralph to appear as a public witness. +And again, too, he had pointed out that the work had to be done, and +that was better for the cause of justice and mercy that it should be +done by conscientious rather than by unscrupulous persons. + +He talked to him now very freely about the conversations in his father's +house, knowing that Cromwell did not want more than a general specimen +sketch of public feeling in matters at issue. + +"They have great faith in the Maid of Kent, sir," he said. "My +brother-in-law, Nicholas, spoke of her prophecy of his Grace's death. It +is the devout that believe in her; the ungodly know her for a fool or a +knave." + +"_Filii hujus saeculi prudentiores sunt_,"--quoted Cromwell gravely. +"Your brother-in-law, I should think, was a child of light." + +"He is, sir." + +"I should have thought so. And what else did you hear?" + +"There is a good deal of memory of the Lady Katharine, sir. I heard the +foresters talking one day." + +"What of the Religious houses?" + +Ralph hesitated. + +"My brother Christopher has just gone to Lewes," he said. "So I heard +more of the favourable side, but I heard a good deal against them, too. +There was a secular priest talking against them one day, with our +chaplain, who is a defender of them." + +"Who was he?" asked Cromwell, with the same sharp, oblique glance. + +"A man of no importance, sir; the parson of Great Keynes." + +"The Holy Maid is in trouble," went on the other after a minute's +silence. "She is in my Lord of Canterbury's hands, and we can leave her +there. I suppose she will be hanged." + +Ralph waited. He knew it was no good asking too much. + +"What she said of the King's death and the pestilence is enough to cast +her," went on Cromwell presently. "And Bocking and Hadleigh will be in +his hands soon, too. They do not know their peril yet." + +They went on to talk of the friars, and of the disfavour that they were +in with the King after the unfortunate occurrences of the previous +spring, when Father Peto had preached at Greenwich before Henry on the +subject of Naboth's vineyard and the end of Ahab the oppressor. There +had been a dramatic scene, Cromwell said, when on the following Sunday a +canon of Hereford, Dr. Curwin, had preached against Peto from the same +pulpit, and had been rebuked from the rood-loft by another of the +brethren, Father Elstow, who had continued declaiming until the King +himself had fiercely intervened from the royal pew and bade him be +silent. + +"The two are banished," said Cromwell, "but that is not the end of it. +Their brethren will hear of it again. I have never seen the King so +wrathful. I suppose it was partly because the Lady Katharine so +cossetted them. She was always in the church at the night-office when +the Court was at Greenwich, and Friar Forrest, you know, was her +confessor. There is a rod in pickle." + +Ralph listened with all his ears. Cromwell was not very communicative +on the subject of the Religious houses, but Ralph had gathered from +hints of this kind that something was preparing. + +When supper was over and the servants were clearing away, Cromwell went +to the window where the glass glowed overhead with his new arms and +scrolls--a blue coat with Cornish choughs and a rose on a fess between +three rampant lions--and stood there, a steady formidable figure, with +his cropped head and great jowl, looking out on to the garden. + +When the men had gone he turned again to Ralph. + +"I have something for you," he said, "but it is greater than those other +matters--a fool could not do it. Sit down." + +He came across the room to the fireplace, as Ralph sat down, and himself +took a chair by the table, lifting the baudkin cushion and settling it +again comfortably behind him. + +"It is this," he said abruptly. "You know that Master More has been in +trouble. There was the matter of the gilt flagon which Powell said he +had taken as a bribe, and the gloves lined with forty pound. Well, he +disproved that, and I am glad of it, glad of it," he repeated steadily, +looking down at his ring and turning it to catch the light. "But there +is now another matter--I hear he has been practising with the Holy Maid +and hearkening to her ravings, and that my Lord of Rochester is in it +too. But I am not sure of it." + +Cromwell stopped, glanced up at Ralph a moment, and then down again. + +"I am not sure of it," he said again, "and I wish to be. And I think you +can help me." + +Ralph waited patiently, his heart beginning to quicken. This was a great +matter. + +"I wish you to go to him," said his master, "and to get him into talk. +But I do not see how it can be managed." + +"He knows I am in your service, sir," suggested Ralph. + +"Yes, yes," said Cromwell a little impatiently, "that is it. He is no +fool, and will not talk. This is what I thought of. That you should go +to him from me, and feign that you are on his side in the matter. But +will he believe that?" he ended gloomily, looking at the other +curiously. + +There was silence for a minute, while Cromwell drummed his fingers +softly on the table. Then presently Ralph spoke. + +"There is this, sir," he said. "I might speak to him about my brother +Chris who, as I told you, has gone to Lewes at the Maid's advice, and +then see what Master More has to say." + +Cromwell still looked at him. + +"Yes," he said, "that seems reasonable. And for the rest--well, I will +leave that in your hands." + +They talked a few minutes longer about Sir Thomas More, and Cromwell +told the other what a quiet life the ex-Chancellor had led since his +resignation of office, of his house at Chelsea, and the like, and of the +decision that he had apparently come to not to mix any further in public +affairs. + +"There is thunder in the air," he said, "as you know very well, and +Master More is no mean weather-prophet. He mis-liked the matter of the +Lady Katharine, and Queen Anne is no friend of his. I think he is wise +to be quiet." + +Ralph knew perfectly well that this tolerant language did not represent +Cromwell's true attitude towards the man of whom they were speaking, but +he assented to all that was said, and added a word or two about Sir +Thomas More's learning, and of the pleasant manner in which he himself +had been received when he had once had had occasion to see him before. + +"He was throwing Horace at me," said the other, with a touch of +bitterness, "the last time that I was there. I do not know which he +loves best, that or his prayers." + +Again Ralph recognised an animus. Cromwell had suffered somewhat from +lack of a classical education. + +"But it is a good thing to love the classics and devotion," he went on +presently with a sententious air, "they are solaces in time of trouble. +I have found that myself." + +He glanced up at the other and down again. + +"I was caught saying our Lady matins one day," he said, "when the +Cardinal was in trouble. I remember I was very devout that morning." + +He went on to talk of Wolsey and of his relations with him, and Ralph +watched that heavy smooth face become reminiscent and almost +sentimental. + +"If he had but been wiser;" he said. "I have noticed again and again the +folly of wise men. There is always clay mixed with gold. I suppose +nothing but the fire that Fryth denied can purge it out; and my lord's +was ambition." + +He wagged his head in solemn reprobation, and Ralph did not know whether +to laugh or to look grave. Then there fell a long silence, and Cromwell +again fell to fingering his signet-ring, taking it off his thumb and +rolling it on the smooth oak, and at last stood up with a brisker air. + +"Well," he said, "I have a thousand affairs, and my son Gregory is +coming here soon. Then you will see about that matter. Remember I wish +to know what Master More thinks of her, that--that I may know what to +think." + + * * * * * + +Ralph understood sufficiently clearly, as he walked home in the evening +light, what it was that his master wanted. It was no less than to catch +some handle against the ex-chancellor, though he had carefully abstained +from saying so. Ralph recognised the adroitness, and saw that while the +directions had been plain and easy to understand, yet that not one word +had been spoken that could by any means be used as a handle against +Cromwell. If anyone in England at that time knew how to wield speech it +was his master; it was by that weapon that he had prevailed with the +King, and still kept him in check; it was that weapon rashly used by his +enemies that he was continually turning against them, and under his +tutoring Ralph himself had begun to be practised in the same art. + +Among other causes, too, of his admiration for Cromwell, was the +latter's extraordinary business capacity. There was hardly an affair of +any importance in which he did not have a finger at least, and most of +them he held in the palm of his hand, and that, not only in the mass but +in their minutest details. Ralph had marvelled more than once at the +minuti that he had seen dotted down on the backs of old letters lying +on his master's table. Matters of Church and State, inextricably +confused to other eyes, was simple to this man; he understood +intuitively where the key of each situation lay, and dealt with them one +after another briefly and effectively. And yet with all this no man wore +an appearance of greater leisure; he would gossip harmlessly for an +hour, and yet by the end had said all that he wished to say, and +generally learnt, too, from his companion whoever he might be, all he +wished to learn. Ralph had watched him more than once at this business; +had seen delicate subjects introduced in a deft unsuspicious sentence +that roused no alarm, and had marvelled at his power to play with men +without their dreaming of what was going forward. + +And now it was Master More that was threatened. Ralph knew well that +there was far more behind the scenes than he could understand or even +perceive, and recognised that the position of Sir Thomas was more +significant than would appear, and that developments might be expected +to follow soon. + +For himself he had no shrinking from his task. He understood that +government was carried on by such methods, and that More himself would +be the first to acknowledge that in war many things were permissible +that would be outrageous in times of peace, and that these were times of +war. To call upon a friend, to eat his bread and salt, and talk +familiarly with him, and to be on the watch all the while for a weak +spot through which that friend might be wounded, seemed to Ralph, +trained now and perfected in Cromwell's school, a perfectly legitimate +policy, and he walked homewards this summer evening, pleased with this +new mark of confidence, and anxious to acquit himself well in his task. + + * * * * * + +The house that Ralph occupied in Westminster was in a street to the west +of the Abbey, and stood back a little between its neighbours. It was a +very small one, of only two rooms in width and one in depth, and three +stories high; but it had been well furnished, chiefly with things +brought up from Overfield Court, to which Ralph had taken a fancy, and +which his father had not denied him. He lived almost entirely in the +first floor, his bedroom and sitting-room being divided by the narrow +landing at the head of the stairs that led up to the storey above, which +was occupied by Mr. Morris and a couple of other servants. The lower +storey Ralph used chiefly for purposes of business, and for interviews +which were sufficiently numerous for one engaged in so many affairs. +Cromwell had learnt by now that he could be trusted to say little and to +learn much, and the early acts of many little dramas that had ended in +tragedy had been performed in the two gravely-furnished rooms on the +ground floor. A good deal of the law-business, in its early stages, +connected with the annulling of the King's marriage with Queen Katharine +had been done there; a great canonist from a foreign university had +explained there his views in broken English, helped out with Latin, to a +couple of shrewd-faced men, while Ralph watched the case for his master; +and Cromwell himself had found the little retired house a convenience +for meeting with persons whom he did not wish to frighten over much, +while Ralph and Mr. Morris sat alert and expectant on the other side of +the hall, with the door open, listening for raised voices or other signs +of a quarrel. + +The rooms upstairs had been furnished with considerable care. The floors +of both were matted, for the plan involved less trouble than the +continual laying of clean rushes. The sitting-room was panelled up six +feet from the floor, and the three feet of wall above were covered with +really beautiful tapestry that Ralph had brought up from Overfield. +There was a great table in the centre, along one side of which rested a +set of drawers with brass handles, and in the centre of the table was a +deep well, covered by a flap that lay level with the rest of the top. +Another table stood against the wall, on which his meals were served, +and the door of a cupboard in which his plate and knives were kept +opened immediately above it, designed in the thickness of the wall. +There were half-a-dozen chairs, two or three other pieces of furniture, +a backed settle by the fire and a row of bookshelves opposite the +windows; and over the mantelpiece, against the tapestry, hung a picture +of Cromwell, painted by Holbein, and rejected by him before it was +finished. Ralph had begged it from the artist who was on the point of +destroying it. It represented the sitter's head and shoulders in +three-quarter face, showing his short hair, his shrewd heavy face, with +its double chin, and the furred gown below. + +Mr. Morris was ready for his master and opened the door to him. + +"There are some letters come, Mr. Ralph, sir," he said. "I have laid +them on your table." + +Ralph nodded, slipped off his thin cloak into his servant's hands +without speaking, laid down his cane and went upstairs. + +The letters were very much what he expected, and dealt with cases on +which he was engaged. There was an entreaty from a country squire near +Epping Forest, whose hounds had got into trouble with the King's +foresters that he would intercede for him to Cromwell. A begging letter +from a monk who had been ejected from his monastery for repeated +misconduct, and who represented himself as starving; Ralph lifted this +to his nostrils and it smelt powerfully of spirits, and he laid it down +again, smiling to himself. A torrent of explanation from a schoolmaster +who had been reported for speaking against the sacrament of the altar, +calling the saints to witness that he was no follower of Fryth in such +detestable heresy. A dignified protest from a Justice of the Peace in +Kent who had been reproved by Cromwell, through Ralph's agency, for +acquitting a sturdy beggar, and who begged that he might in future deal +with a responsible person; and this Ralph laid aside, smiling again and +promising himself that he would have the pleasure of granting the +request. An offer, written in a clerkly hand, from a fellow who could +not sign his name but had appended a cross, to submit some important +evidence of a treasonable plot, on the consideration of secrecy and a +suitable reward. + +A year ago such a budget would have given Ralph considerable pleasure, +and a sense of his own importance; but business had been growing on him +rapidly of late, as his master perceived his competence, and it gave him +no thrill to docket this one, write a refusal to that, a guarded answer +to another, and finally to open the well of his table and drop the +bundle in. + +Then he turned round his chair, blew out one candle carefully, and set +to thinking about Master Thomas More. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MASTER MORE + + +It was not until nearly a month later that Ralph made an opportunity to +call upon Sir Thomas More. Cromwell had given him to understand that +there was no immediate reason for haste; his own time was tolerably +occupied, and he thought it as well not to make a show of over-great +hurry. He wrote to Sir Thomas, explaining that he wished to see him on a +matter connected with his brother Christopher, and received a courteous +reply begging him to come to dinner on the following Thursday, the +octave of the Assumption, as Sir Thomas thought it proper to add. + + * * * * * + +It was a wonderfully pleasant house, Ralph thought, as his wherry came +up to the foot of the garden stairs that led down from the lawn to the +river. It stood well back in its own grounds, divided from the river by +a wall with a wicket gate in it. There was a little grove of trees on +either side of it; a flock of pigeons were wheeling about the +bell-turret that rose into the clear blue sky, and from which came a +stroke or two, announcing the approach of dinner-time as he went up the +steps. + +There was a figure lying on its face in the shadow by the house, as +Ralph came up the path, and a small dog, that seemed to be trying to dig +the head out from the hands in which it was buried, ceased his +excavations and set up a shrill barking. The figure rolled over, and sat +up; the pleasant brown face was all creased with laughter; small pieces +of grass were clinging to the long hair, and Ralph, to his amazement, +recognised the ex-Lord Chancellor of England. + +"I beg your pardon, sir," said More, rising and shaking himself. "I had +no idea--you take me at a disadvantage; it is scarcely dignified"--and +he stopped, smiling and holding out one hand, while he stretched the +other deprecatingly, to quiet that insistent barking. + +Ralph had a sensation of mingled contempt and sympathy as he took his +hand. + +"I had the honour of seeing you once before, Master More," he said. + +"Why, yes," said More, "and I hope I cut a better figure last time, but +Anubis would take no refusal. But I am ashamed, and beg you will not +speak of it to Mrs. More. She is putting on a new coif in your honour." + +"I will be discreet," said Ralph, smiling. + +They went indoors almost immediately, when Sir Thomas had flicked the +grass sufficiently off his gown to escape detection, and straight +through to the hall where the table was laid, and three or four girls +were waiting. + +"Your mother is not here yet, I see," said Sir Thomas, when he had made +Ralph known to his daughters, and the young man had kissed them +deferentially, according to the proper etiquette--"I will tell you +somewhat--hush--" and he broke off again sharply as the door from the +stairs opened, and a stately lady, with a rather solemn and +uninteresting face, sailed in, her silk skirts rustling behind her, and +her fresh coif stiff and white on her head. A middle-aged man followed +her in, looking a little dejected, and made straight across to where the +ladies were standing with an eagerness that seemed to hint at a sense of +escape. + +"Mrs. Alice," said Sir Thomas, "this is Mr. Ralph Torridon, of whom you +have heard me speak. I was fortunate enough to welcome him on the lawn +just now." + +"I saw you, Mr. More," said his wife with dignity, as she took Ralph's +hand and said a word about the weather. + +"Then I will confess," said Sir Thomas, smiling genially round, "I +welcomed Mr. Torridon with the back of my head, and with Anubis biting +my ears." + +Ralph felt strangely drawn to this schoolboy kind of man, who romped +with dogs and lay on his stomach, and was so charmingly afraid of his +wife. His contempt began to melt as he looked at him and saw those wise +twinkling eyes, and strong humorous mouth, and remembered once more who +he was, and his reputation. + +Sir Thomas said grace with great gravity and signed himself reverently +before he sat down. There was a little reading first of the Scriptures +and a commentary on it, and then as dinner went on Ralph began to attend +less and less to his hostess, who, indeed appeared wholly absorbed in +domestic details of the table and with whispering severely to the +servants behind her hand, and to listen and look towards the further end +where Sir Thomas sat in his tall chair, his flapped cap on his head, and +talked to his daughters on either side. Mr. Roper, the man who had come +in with Mrs. More, was sitting opposite Ralph, and seemed to be chiefly +occupied in listening too. A bright-looking tall girl, whom her father +had introduced by the name of Cecily, sat between Ralph and her father. + +"Not at all," cried Sir Thomas, in answer to something that Ralph did +not catch, "nothing of the kind! It was Juno that screamed. Argus would +not condescend to it. He was occupied in dancing before the bantams." + +Ralph lost one of the few remarks that Mrs. More addressed to him, in +wondering what this meant, and the conversation at the other end swept +round a corner while he was apologising. When he again caught the +current Sir Thomas was speaking of wherries. + +"I would love to row a wherry," he said. "The fellows do not know their +fortune; they might lead such sweet meditative lives; they do not, I am +well aware, for I have never heard such blasphemy as I have heard from +wherrymen. But what opportunities are theirs! If I were not your father, +my darling, I would be a wherryman. _Si cognovisses et tu quae ad pacem +tibi_! Mr. Torridon, would you not be a wherryman if you were not Mr. +Torridon?" + +"I thought not this morning," said Ralph, "as I came here. It seemed hot +rowing against the stream." + +"It is part of the day's work," said More. "When I was Chancellor I +loved nothing more than a hot summer's day in Court, for I thought of my +cool garden where I should soon be walking. I must show you the New +Building after dinner, Mr. Torridon." + +Cecily and Margaret presently had a short encounter across the table on +some subject that Ralph did not catch, but he saw Margaret on the other +side flush up and bring her lips sharply together. Sir Thomas leapt into +the breach. + +"_Unde leves animae tanto caluere furore?_" he cried, and glanced up at +Ralph to see if he understood the quotation, as the two girls dropped +their eyes ashamed. + +"_Pugnavare pares, succubuere pares_," said Ralph by a flash of +inspiration, and looking at the girls. + +Sir Thomas's eyes shone with pleasure. + +"I did not know you were such a treasure, Mr. Torridon. Now, Master +Cromwell could not have done that." + +There fell a silence as that name was spoken, and all at the table eyed +Ralph. + +"He was saying as much to me the other day," went on Ralph, excited by +his success. "He told me you knew Horace too well." + +"And that my morals were corrupted by him," went on More. "I know he +thinks that, but I had the honour of confuting him the other day with +regard to the flagon and gloves. Now, there is a subject for Martial, +Mr. Torridon. A corrupt statesman who has retired on his ill-gotten +gains disproves an accusation of bribery. Let us call him Atticus +'Attice ... Attice' ...--We might say that he put on the gloves lest his +forgers should be soiled while he drank from the flagon, or something of +the kind." + +Sir Thomas's eyes beamed with delight as he talked. To make an apt +classical quotation was like wine to him, but to have it capped +appropriately was like drunkenness. Ralph blessed his stars that he had +been so lucky, for he was no great scholar, and he guessed he had won +his host's confidence. + +Dinner passed on quietly, and as they rose from table More came round +and took his guest by the arm. + +"You must come with me and see my New Building," he said, "you are +worthy of it, Mr. Torridon." + +He still held his arm affectionately as they walked out into the garden +behind the house, and as he discoursed on the joys of a country life. + +"What more can I ask of God?" he said. "He has given me means and tastes +to correspond, and what man can say more. I see visions, and am able to +make them realities. I dream of a dovecote with a tiled roof, and +straightway build it; I picture a gallery and a chapel and a library +away from the clack of tongues, and behold there it is. The eye cannot +say to the hand, 'I have no need of thee.' To see and dream without the +power of performance is heart-breaking. To perform without the gift of +imagination is soul-slaying. The man is blessed that hath both eye and +hand, tastes and means alike." + +It was a very pleasant retreat that Sir Thomas More had built for +himself at the end of his garden, where he might retire when he wanted +solitude. There was a little entrance hall with a door at one corner +into the chapel, and a long low gallery running out from it, lined with +bookshelves on one side, and with an open space on the other lighted by +square windows looking into the garden. The polished boards were bare, +and there was a path marked on them by footsteps going from end to end. + +"Here I walk," said More, "and my friends look at me from those shelves, +ready to converse but never to interrupt. Shall we walk here, Mr. +Torridon, while you tell me your business?" + +Ralph had, indeed, a touch of scrupulousness as he thought of his host's +confidence, but he had learnt the habit of silencing impulses and of +only acting on plans deliberately formed; so he was soon laying bare his +anxiety about Chris, and his fear that he had been misled by the Holy +Maid. + +"I am very willing, Mr. More," he said, "that my brother should be a +monk if it is right, but I could not bear he should be so against God's +leading. How am I to know whether the maid's words are of God or no?" + +Sir Thomas was silent a moment. + +"But he had thoughts of it before, I suppose," he said, "or he would not +have gone to her. In fact, you said so." + +Ralph acknowledged that this was so. + +"--And for several years," went on the other. + +Again Ralph assented. + +"And his tastes and habits are those of a monk, I suppose. He is long +at his prayers, given to silence, and of a tranquil spirit?" + +"He is not always tranquil," said Ralph. "He is impertinent sometimes." + +"Yes, yes; we all are that. I was very impertinent to you at dinner in +trying to catch you with Martial his epigram, though I shall not offend +again. But his humour may be generally tranquil in spite of it. Well, if +that is so, I do not see why you need trouble about the Holy Maid. He +would likely have been a monk without that. She only confirmed him." + +"But," went on Ralph, fighting to get back to the point, "if I thought +she was trustworthy I should be the more happy." + +"There must always be doubtfulness," said More, "in such matters. That +is why the novitiate is so severe; it is to show the young men the worst +at once. I do not think you need be unhappy about your brother." + +"And what is your view about the Holy Maid?" asked Ralph, suddenly +delivering his point. + +More stopped in his walk, cocked his head a little on one side like a +clever dog, and looked at his companion with twinkling eyes. + +"It is a delicate subject," he said, and went on again. + +"That is what puzzles me," said Ralph. "Will you not tell me your +opinion, Mr. More?" + +There was again a silence, and they reached the further end of the +gallery and turned again before Sir Thomas answered. + +"If you had not answered me so briskly at dinner, Mr. Torridon, do you +know that I should have suspected you of coming to search me out. But +such a good head, I think, cannot be allied with a bad heart, and I +will tell you." + +Ralph felt a prick of triumph but none of remorse. + +"I will tell you," went on More, "and I am sure you will keep it +private. I think the Holy Maid is a good woman who has a maggot." + +Ralph's spirits sank again. This was a very non-committing answer. + +"I do not think her a knave as some do, but I think, to refer to what we +said just now, that she has a large and luminous eye, and no hand worth +mentioning. She sees many visions, but few facts. That tale about the +Host being borne by angels from Calais to my mind is nonsense. Almighty +God does not work miracles without reason, and there is none for that. +The blessed sacrament is the same at Dover as at Calais. And a woman who +can dream that can dream anything, for I am sure she did not invent it. +On other matters, therefore, she may be dreaming too, and that is why +once more I tell you that to my mind you can leave her out of your +thoughts with regard to your brother. She is neither prophetess nor +pythoness." + +This was very unsatisfactory, and Ralph strove to remedy it. + +"And in the matter of the King's death, Mr. More?" he said. + +Again Sir Thomas stopped in his walk. + +"Do you know, Mr. Torridon, I think we may leave that alone," he said a +little abruptly. And Ralph sucked in his lip and bit it sharply at the +consciousness of his own folly. + +"I hope your brother will be very happy," went on the other after a +moment, "and I am sure he will be, if his call is from God, as I think +likely. I was with the Carthusians myself, you know, for four years, +and sometimes I think I should have stayed there. It is a blessed life. +I do not envy many folks, but I do those. To live in the daily +companionship of our blessed Lord and of his saints as those do, and to +know His secrets--_secreta Domini_--even the secrets of His Passion and +its ineffable joys of pain--that is a very fortunate lot, Mr. Torridon. +I sometimes think that as it was with Christ's natural body so it is +with His mystical body: there be some members, His hands and feet and +side, through which the nails are thrust, though indeed there is not one +whole spot in His body--_inglorius erit inter viros aspectus ejus--nos +putavimus eum quasi leprosum_--but those parts of His body that are +especially pained are at once more honourable and more happy than those +that are not. And the monks are those happy members." + +He was speaking very solemnly, his voice a little tremulous, and his +kindly eyes were cast down, and Ralph watched him sidelong with a little +awe and pity mingled. He seemed so natural too, that Ralph thought that +he must have over-rated his own indiscretion. + +A shadow fell across the door into the garden as they came near it, and +one of the girls appeared in the opening. + +"Why, Meg," cried her father, "what is it, my darling?" + +"Beatrice has come, sir," said the girl. "I thought you would wish to +know." + +More put out his arm and laid it round his daughter's waist as she +turned with him. + +"Come, Mr. Torridon," he said, "if you have no more to say, let us go +and see Beatrice." + +There was a group on the lawn under one of the lime trees, two or three +girls and Mr. Roper, who all rose to their feet as the three came up. +More immediately sat down on the grass, putting his feet delicately +together before him. + +"Will, fetch this gentleman a chair. It is not fit for Master +Cromwell's friend to sit on the grass like you and me." + +Ralph threw himself down on the lawn instantly, entreating Mr. Roper not +to move. + +"Well, well," said Sir Thomas, "let be. Sit down too, Will, _et cubito +remanete presso_. Mr. Torridon understands that, I know, even if Master +Cromwell's friend does not. Why, tillie-vallie, as Mrs. More says, I +have not said a word to Beatrice. Beatrice, this is Mr. Ralph Torridon, +and this, Mr. Torridon, is Beatrice. Her other name is Atherton, but to +me she is a feminine benediction, and nought else." + +Ralph rose swiftly and looked across at a tall slender girl that was +sitting contentedly on an outlying root of the lime tree, beside of Sir +Thomas, and who rose with him. + +"Mr. More cannot let my name alone, Mr. Torridon," she said tranquilly, +as she drew back after the salute. "He made a play upon it the other +day." + +"And have been ashamed of it ever since," said More; "it was sacrilege +with such a name. Now, I am plain Thomas, and more besides. Why did you +send for me, Beatrice?" + +"I have no defence," said the girl, "save that I wanted to see you." + +"And that is the prettiest defence you could have made--if it does not +amount to corruption. Mr. Torridon, what is the repartee to that?" + +"I need no advocate," said the girl; "I can plead well enough." + +Ralph looked up at her again with a certain interest. She seemed on +marvellously good terms with the whole family, and had an air of being +entirely at her ease. She had her black eyes bent down on to a piece of +grass that she was twisting into a ring between her slender jewelled +fingers, and her white teeth were closed firmly on her lower lip as she +worked. Her long silk skirts lay out unregarded on the grass, and her +buckles gleamed beneath. Her voice was pleasant and rather deep, and +Ralph found himself wondering who she was, and why he had not seen her +before, for she evidently belonged to his class, and London was a small +place. + +"I see you are making one more chain to bind me to you," said More +presently, watching her. + +She held it up. + +"A ring only," she said. + +"Then it is not for me," said More, "for I do not hold with Dr. +Melanchthon, nor yet Solomon in the matter of wives. Now, Mr. Torridon, +tell us all some secrets. Betray your master. We are all agog. Leave off +that ring, Beatrice, and attend." + +"I am listening," said the girl as serenely as before, still intent on +her weaving. + +"The King breakfasted this morning at eight of the clock," said Ralph +gravely. "It is an undoubted fact, I had it on the highest authority." + +"This is excellent," said Sir Thomas. "Let us all talk treason. I can +add to that. His Grace had a fall last night and lay senseless for +several hours." + +He spoke with such gravity that Ralph glanced up. At the same moment +Beatrice looked up from her work and their eyes met. + +"He fell asleep," added Sir Thomas. + + * * * * * + +It was very pleasant to lie there in the shadow of the lime that +afternoon, and listen to the mild fooling, and Ralph forgot his +manners, and almost his errand too, and never offered to move. The grass +began to turn golden as the sun slanted to the West, and the birds began +to stir after the heat of the day, and to chirp from tree to tree. A +hundred yards away the river twinkled in the sun, seen beyond the trees +and the house, and the voices of the boatmen came, softened by distance +and water, as they plied up and down the flowing highway. Once a barge +went past under the Battersea bank, with music playing in the stern, and +Ralph raised himself on his elbow to watch it as it went down the stream +with flags flying behind, and the rhythmical throb of the row-locks +sounding time to the dancing melody. + +Ralph did his best to fall in with the humour of the day, and told a +good story or two in his slow voice--among them one of his mother +exercising her gift of impressive silence towards a tiresome chatterbox +of a man, with such effect that the conversationalist's words died on +his lips, after the third or fourth pause made for applause and comment. +He told the story well, and Lady Torridon seemed to move among them, her +skirts dragging majestically on the grass, and her steady, sombre face +looking down on them all beneath half-closed languid eye-lids. + +"He has never been near us again," said Ralph, "but he never fails to +ask after my mother's distressing illness when I meet him in town." + +He was a little astonished at himself as he talked, for he was not +accustomed to take such pains to please, but he was conscious that +though he looked round at the faces, and addressed himself to More, he +was really watching for the effect on the girl who sat behind. He was +aware of every movement that she made; he knew when she tossed the ring +on the little sleeping brown body of the dog that had barked at him +earlier in the day, and set to work upon another. She slipped that on +her finger when she had done, and turned her hand this way and that, her +fingers bent back, a ruby catching the light as she did so, looking at +the effect of the green circle against the whiteness. But he never +looked at her again, except once when she asked him some question, and +then he looked her straight in her black eyes as he answered. + +A bell sounded out at last again from the tower, and startled him. He +got up quickly. + +"I am ashamed," he said smiling, "how dare I stay so long? It is your +kindness, Mr. More." + +"Nay, nay," said Sir Thomas, rising too and stretching himself. "You +have helped us to lose another day in the pleasantest manner +possible--you must come again, Mr. Torridon." + +He walked down with Ralph to the garden steps, and stood by him talking, +while the wherry that had been hailed from the other side made its way +across. + +"Beatrice is like one of my own daughters," he said, "and I cannot give +her better praise than that. She is always here, and always as you saw +her today. I think she is one of the strongest spirits I know. What did +you think of her, Mr. Torridon?" + +"She did not talk much," said Ralph. + +"She talks when she has aught to say," went on More, "and otherwise is +silent. It is a good rule, sir; I would I observed it myself." + +"Who is she?" asked Ralph. + +"She is the daughter of a friend I had, and she lives just now with my +wife's sisters, Nan and Fan. She is often in town with one of them. I am +astonished you have not met her before." + +The wherry slid up to the steps and the man in his great boots slipped +over the side to steady it. + +"Now is the time to begin your philosophy," said More as Ralph stepped +in, "and a Socrates is ready. Talk it over, Mr. Torridon." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +RALPH'S INTERCESSION + + +Ralph was astonished to find how the thought of the tall girl he had met +at Sir Thomas More's house remained with him. He had reported the result +of his interview with More himself to his master; and Cromwell had +received it rather coldly. He had sniffed once or twice. + +"That was not very well done, Mr. Torridon. I fear that you have +frightened him, and gained nothing by it." + +Ralph stood silent. + +"But I see you make no excuses," went on Cromwell, "so I will make them +for you. I daresay he was frightened already; and knew all about what +had passed between her and the Archbishop. You must try again, sir." + +Ralph felt his heart stir with pleasure. + +"I may say I have made friends with Mr. More, sir," he said. "I had good +fortune in the matter of a quotation, and he received me kindly. I can +go there again without excusing my presence, as often as you will." + +Cromwell looked at him. + +"There is not much to be gained now," he said, "but you can go if you +will; and you may perhaps pick up something here and there. The more +friends you make the better." + +Ralph went away delighted; he had not wholly failed then in his master's +business, and he seemed to have set on foot a business of his own; and +he contemplated with some excitement his future visits to Chelsea. + + * * * * * + +He had his first word with the King a couple of months later. He had +often, of course, seen him before, once or twice in the House of Lords, +formidable and frowning on his throne, his gross chin on his hand, +barking out a word or two to his subjects, or instructing them in +theology, for which indeed he was very competent; and several times in +processions, riding among his gentlemen on his great horse, splendid in +velvet and gems; and he had always wondered what it was that gave him +his power. It could not be mere despotism, he thought, or his burly +English nature; and it was not until he had seen him near at hand, and +come within range of his personality that he understood why it was that +men bore such things from him. + +He was sent for one afternoon by Cromwell to bring a paper and was taken +up at once by a servant into the gallery where the minister and the King +were walking together. They were at the further end from that at which +he entered, and he stood, a little nervous at his heart, but with his +usual appearance of self-possession, watching the two great backs turned +to him, and waiting to be called. + +They turned again in a moment, and Cromwell saw him and beckoned, +himself coming a few steps to meet him. The King waited, and Ralph was +aware of, rather than saw, that wide, coarse, strong face, and the long +narrow eyes, with the feathered cap atop, and the rich jewelled dress +beneath. The King stood with his hands behind his back and his legs well +apart. + +Cromwell took the paper from Ralph, who stepped back, hesitating what to +do. + +"This is it, your Grace," said the minister going back again. "Your +Grace will see that it is as I said." + +Ralph perceived a new tone of deference in his master's voice that he +had never noticed before, except once when Cromwell was ironically +bullying a culprit who was giving trouble. + +The King said nothing, took the paper and glanced over it, standing a +little aside to let the light fall on it. + +"Your Grace will understand--" began Cromwell again. + +"Yes, yes, yes," said the harsh voice impatiently. "Let the fellow take +it back," and he thrust the paper into Cromwell's hand, who turned once +more to Ralph. + +"Who is he?" said the King. "I have seen his face. Who are you?" + +"This is Mr. Ralph Torridon," said Cromwell; "a very useful friend to +me, your Grace." + +"The Torridons of Overfield?" questioned Henry once more, who never +forgot a face or a name. + +"Yes, your Grace," said Cromwell. + +"You are tall enough, sir," said the King, running his narrow eyes up +and down Ralph's figure;--"a strong friend." + +"I hope so, your Grace," said Ralph. + +The King again looked at him, and Ralph dropped his eyes in the glare of +that mighty personality. Then Henry abruptly thrust out his hand to be +kissed, and as Ralph bent over it he was aware of the thick straight +fingers, the creased wrist, and the growth of hair on the back of the +hand. + + * * * * * + +Ralph was astonished, and a little ashamed at his own excitement as he +passed down the stairs again. It was so little that had happened; his +own part had been so insignificant; and yet he was tingling from head to +foot. He felt he knew now a little better how it was that the King's +will, however outrageous in its purposes, was done so quickly. It was +the sheer natural genius of authority and royalty that forced it +through; he had felt himself dominated and subdued in those few moments, +so that he was not his own master. As he went home through the street or +two that separated the Palace gate from his own house, he found himself +analysing the effect of that presence, and, in spite of its repellence, +its suggestion of coarseness, and its almost irritating imperiousness, +he was conscious that there was a very strong element of attractiveness +in it too. It seemed to him the kind of attractiveness that there is for +a beaten dog in the chastising hand: the personality was so overwhelming +that it compelled allegiance, and that not wholly one of fear. He found +himself thinking of Queen Katharine and understanding a little better +how it was that the refined, delicately nurtured and devout woman, so +constant in her prayers, so full of the peculiar fineness of character +that gentle birth and religion alone confer, could so cling to this +fierce lord of hers, throw herself at his feet with tears before all the +company, and entreat not to be separated from him, calling him her "dear +lord," her "love," and her most "merciful and gracious prince." + + * * * * * + +The transition from this train of thought to that bearing on Beatrice +was not a difficult one; for the memory of the girl was continually in +his mind. He had seen her half a dozen times now since their first +meeting; for he had availed himself to the full of Cromwell's +encouragement to make himself at home at Chelsea; and he found that his +interest in her deepened every time. With a touch of amusement he found +himself studying Horace and Terence again, not only for Sir Thomas +More's benefit, but in order to win his approval and his good report to +his household, among whom Beatrice was practically to be reckoned. + +He was pleased too by More's account of Beatrice. + +"She is nearly as good a scholar as my dear Meg," he had said one day. +"Try her, Mr. Torridon." + +Ralph had carefully prepared an apt quotation that day, and fired it off +presently, not at Beatrice, but, as it were, across her; but there was +not the faintest response or the quiver of an eyelid. + +There was silence a moment; and then Sir Thomas burst out-- + +"You need not look so demure, my child; we all know that you +understand." + +Beatrice had given him a look of tranquil amusement in return. + +"I will not be made a show of," she said. + +Ralph went away that day more engrossed than ever. He began to ask +himself where his interest in her would end; and wondered at its +intensity. + +As he questioned himself about it, it seemed that to him it was to a +great extent her appearance of detached self-possession that attracted +him. It was the quality that he most desired for himself, and one which +he had in measure attained; but he was aware that in the presence of +Cromwell at least it deserted him. He knew well that he had found his +master there, and that he himself was nothing more than a +hero-worshipper before a shrine; but it provoked him to feel that there +was no one who seemed to occupy the place of a similar divinity with +regard to this girl. Obviously she admired and loved Sir Thomas +More--Ralph soon found out how deeply in the course of his visits--but +she was not in the least afraid of her friend. She serenely contradicted +him when she disagreed with what he said, would fail to keep her +appointments at his house with the same equanimity, and in spite of Sir +Thomas's personality never appeared to give him more than a friendly and +affectionate homage. With regard to Ralph himself, it was the same. She +was not in the least awed by him, or apparently impressed by his +reputation which at this time was growing rapidly as that of a capable +and daring agent of Cromwell's; and even once or twice when he +condescended to hint at the vastness of the affairs on which he was +engaged, in a desperate endeavour to rouse her admiration, she only +looked at him steadily a moment with very penetrating eyes, and began to +speak of something else. He began to feel discouraged. + + * * * * * + +The first hint that Ralph had that he had been making a mistake in his +estimate of her, came from Margaret Roper, who was still living at +Chelsea with her husband Will. + +Ralph had walked up to the house one bleak afternoon in early spring +along the river-bank from Westminster, and had found Margaret alone in +the dining-hall, seated by the window with her embroidery in her hand, +and a Terence propped open on the sill to catch the last gleams of light +from the darkening afternoon. She greeted Ralph warmly, for he was a +very familiar figure to them all by now, and soon began to talk, when he +had taken a seat by the wide open fireplace whence the flames flickered +out, casting shadows and lights round the high room, across the +high-hung tapestries and in the gloomy corners. + +"Beatrice is here," she said presently, "upstairs with father. I think +she is doing some copying for him." + +"She is a great deal with him," observed Ralph. + +"Why, yes; father thinks so much of her. He says that none can write so +well as she, or has such a quick brain. And then she does not talk, he +says, nor ask foolish woman-questions like the rest of us." And Margaret +glanced up a moment, smiling. + +"I suppose I must not go up," said Ralph, a little peevishly; for he was +tired with his long day. + +"Why, no, you must not," said Margaret, "but she will be down soon, Mr. +Torridon." + +There was silence for a moment or two; and then Margaret spoke again. + +"Mr. Torridon," she said, "may I say something?" Ralph made a little +sound of assent. The warmth of the fire was making him sleepy. + +"Well, it is this," said Margaret slowly, "I think you believe that +Beatrice does not like you. That is not true. She is very fond of you; +she thinks a great deal of you," she added, rather hastily. + +Ralph sat up; his drowsiness was gone. + +"How do you know that, Mrs. Roper?" he asked. His voice sounded +perfectly natural, and Margaret was reassured at the tone of it. She +could not see Ralph well; it was getting dark now. + +"I know it well," she said. "Of course we talk of you when you are +gone." + +"And does Mrs. Beatrice talk of me?" + +"Not so much," said Margaret, "but she listens very closely; and asks us +questions sometimes." The girl's heart was beating with excitement as +she spoke; but she had made up her mind to seek this opportunity. It +seemed a pity, she thought, that two friends of hers should so +misunderstood one another. + +"And what kind of questions?" asked Ralph again. + +"She wonders--what you really think--" went on Margaret slowly, bending +down over her embroidery, and punctuating her words with +stitches--"about--about affairs--and--and she said one day that--" + +"Well?" said Ralph in the same tone. + +"That she thought you were not so severe as you seemed," ended Margaret, +her voice a little tremulous with amusement. + +Ralph sat perfectly still, staring at the great fire-plate on which a +smoky Phoebus in relief drove the chariot of the sun behind the tall +wavering flames that rose from the burning logs. He knew very well why +Margaret had spoken, and that she would not speak without reason; but +the fact revealed was so bewilderingly new to him that he could not take +it in. Margaret looked at him once or twice a little uneasily; and at +last sighed. + +"It is too dark," she said, "I must fetch candles." + +She slipped out of the side-door that led to the servants' quarters, and +Ralph was left alone. All his weariness was gone now; the whirl of +images and schemes with which his brain had been seething as he walked +up the river-bank half-an-hour before, had receded into obscurity; and +one dominating thought filled their place: What if Margaret were right? +And what did he mean to do himself? Surely he was not-- + +The door from the entrance passage opened, and a tall slender figure +stood there, now in light, now in shadow, as the flames rose and fell. + +"Meg," said a voice. + +Ralph sat still a moment longer. + +"Meg," said Beatrice again, "how dark you are." + +Ralph stood up. + +"Mrs Roper has just gone," he said, "you must put up with me, Mrs. +Beatrice." + +"Who is it?" said the girl advancing. "Mr. Torridon?" + +She had a paper in her hand as she came across the floor, and Ralph drew +out a chair for her on the other side of the hearth. + +"Yes," he said. "Mrs. Roper has gone for lights. She will be back +immediately." + +Beatrice sat down. + +"It is a troublesome word," she said. "Master More cannot read it +himself, and has sent me to ask Meg. He says that every dutiful daughter +should be able to read her father's hand." + +And Ralph could see a faint amused smile in her black eyes, as the +firelight shone on them. + +"Master More always has an escape ready," he said, as he too sat down. + +The girl's hand holding the paper suddenly dropped on to her knee, and +the man saw she was looking at him oddly. + +"Yes?" he said interrogatively; and then-- + +"Why do you look at me like that, Mrs. Beatrice?" + +"It is what you said. Do you really think that, Mr. Torridon?" + +Ralph was bewildered for a moment. + +"I do not understand," he said. + +"Do you truly think he always has an escape ready?" repeated the girl. + +Then Ralph understood. + +"You mean he is in danger," he said steadily. "Well, of course he is. +There is no great man that is not. But I do not see why he should not +escape as he has always done." + +"You think that, Mr. Torridon?" + +"Why, yes;" went on Ralph, a little hastily. "You remember the matter +of the bribe. See how he cleared himself. Surely, Mrs. Beatrice--" + +"And you really think so," said the girl. "I know that you know what we +do not; and I shall believe what you say." + +"How can I tell?" remonstrated Ralph. "I can only tell you that in this +matter I know nothing that you do not. Master More is under no +suspicion." + +Beatrice drew a breath of relief. + +"I am glad I spoke to you, sir," she said. "It has been on my mind. And +something that he said a few minutes ago frightened me." + +"What did he say?" asked Ralph curiously. + +"Ah! it was not much. It was that no man knew what might come next; that +matters were very strange and dismaying--and--and that he wanted this +paper copied quickly, for fear--" + +The girl stopped again, abruptly. + +"I know what you feel, Mrs. Beatrice," said Ralph gently. "I know how +you love Master More, and how terrified we may become for our friends." + +"What do you think yourself, Mr. Torridon," she said suddenly, almost +interrupting him. + +He looked at her doubtfully a moment, and half wished that Margaret +would come back. + +"That is a wide question," he said. + +"Well, you know what I mean," she said coolly, completely herself again. +She was sitting back in her chair now, drawing the paper serenely to and +fro between her fingers; and he could see the firelight on her chin and +brows, and those steady eyes watching him. He had an impulse of +confidence. + +"I do think changes are coming," he said. "I suppose we all do." + +"And you approve?" + +"Oh! how can I say off-hand?--But I think changes are needed." + +She was looking down at the fire again now, and did not speak for a +moment. + +"Master More said you were of the new school," she said meditatively. + +Ralph felt a curious thrill of exultation. Margaret was right then; this +girl had been thinking about him. + +"There is certainly a stirring," he said; and his voice was a little +restrained. + +"Oh, I am not blind or deaf," said the girl. "Of course, there is a +stirring--but I wondered--" + +Then Margaret came in with the candles. + +Ralph went away that evening more excited than he liked. It seemed as if +Mistress Roper's words had set light to a fire ready laid, and he could +perceive the warmth beginning to move about his heart and odd wavering +lights flickering on his circumstances and business that had not been +there before. + + * * * * * + +He received his first letter from Beatrice a few weeks later, and it +threw him into a strait between his personal and official claims. + +Cromwell at this time was exceedingly occupied with quelling the ardour +of the House of Lords, who were requesting that the Holy Maid of Kent +and her companions might have an opportunity of defending themselves +before the Act of Attainder ordered by the King was passed against them; +but he found time to tell his agent that trouble was impending over More +and Fisher; and to request him to hand in any evidence that he might +have against the former. + +"I suppose we shall have to let the Bishop off with a fine," said the +minister, "in regard to the Maid's affair; but we shall catch him +presently over the Act; and Mr. More is clear of it. But we shall have +him too in a few days. Put down what you have to say, Mr. Torridon, and +let me have it this evening." + +And then he rustled off down the staircase to where his carriage was +waiting to take him to Westminster, where he proposed to tell the +scrupulous peers that the King was not accustomed to command twice, and +that to suspect his Grace of wishing them to do an injustice was a piece +of insolence that neither himself nor his royal master had expected of +them. + +Ralph was actually engaged in putting down his very scanty accusations +against Sir Thomas More when the letter from Beatrice was brought up to +him. He read it through twice in silence; and then ordered the courier +to wait below. When the servant had left the room, he read it through a +third time. + +It was not long; but it was pregnant. + +"I entreat you, sir," wrote the girl, "for the love of Jesu, to let us +know if anything is designed against our friend. Three weeks ago you +told me it was not so; I pray God that may be true still. I know that +you would not lift a finger against him yourself--" (Ralph glanced at +his own neat little list at these words, and bit his pen)--"but I wish +you to do what you can for him and for us all." Then followed an +erasure. + +Ralph carried the paper to the window, flattened it against the panes +and read clearly the words, "If my" under the scratching lines, and +smiled to himself as he guessed what the sentence was that she was +beginning. + +Then the letter continued. + +"I hear on good authority that there is something against him. He will +not escape; and will do nothing on such hearsay, but only tells us to +trust God, and laughs at us all. Good Mr. Torridon, do what you can. +Your loving friend, B.A." + +Ralph went back from the window where he was still standing, and sat +down again, bending his head into his hands. He had no sort of scruples +against lying as such or betraying Mr. More's private conversation; his +whole training was directed against such foolishness, and he had learnt +at last from Cromwell's incessant precept and example that the good of +the State over-rode all private interests. But he had a disinclination +to lie to Beatrice; and he felt simply unable to lose her friendship by +telling her the truth. + +As he sat there perfectly still, the servant peeped in once softly to +see if the answer was ready, and noiselessly withdrew. Ralph did not +stir; but still sat on, pressing his eyeballs till they ached and fiery +rings twisted before him in the darkness. Then he abruptly sat up, +blinked a moment or two, took up a pen, bit it again, and laid it down +and sat eyeing the two papers that lay side by side on his desk. + +He took up his own list, and read it through. After all, it was very +insignificant, and contained no more than minute scraps of conversation +that Sir Thomas More had let drop. He had called Queen Katharine "poor +woman" three or four times; had expressed a reverence for the Pope of +Rome half a dozen times, and had once called him the Vicar of Christ. He +had been silent when someone had mentioned Anne Boleyn's name; he had +praised the Carthusians and the Religious Life generally, at some +length. + +They were the kind of remarks that might mean nothing or a great deal; +they were consistent with loyalty; they were not inconsistent with +treason; in fact they were exactly the kind of material out of which +serious accusations might be manufactured by a skilled hand, though as +they stood they proved nothing. + +A further consideration to Ralph was his duty to Cromwell; he scarcely +felt it seemly to lie whole-heartedly to him; and on the other hand he +felt now simply unable to lie to Beatrice. There was only one way out of +it,--to prevaricate to them both. + +He took up his own paper, glanced at it once more; and then with a +slightly dramatic gesture tore it across and across, and threw it on the +ground. Then he took up his pen and wrote to Beatrice. + +"I have only had access to one paper against our friend--that I have +destroyed, though I do not know what Master Cromwell will say. But I +tell you this to show at what a price I value your friendship. + +"Of course our friend is threatened. Who is not in these days? But I +swear to you that I do not know what is the design." + +He added a word or two more for politeness' sake, prayed that "God might +have her in His keeping," and signed himself as she had done, her +"loving friend." + +Then he dried the ink with his pounce box, sealed the letter with great +care, and took it down to the courier himself. + + * * * * * + +He faced Cromwell in the evening with a good deal of terror, but with +great adroitness; swore positively that More had said nothing actually +treasonable, and had found, on putting pen to paper, that the +accusations were flimsier than he thought. + +"But it is your business to see that they be not so," stormed his +master. Ralph paused a moment respectfully. + +"I cannot make a purse out of a sow's ear, sir. I must have at least +some sort of silk." + +When Cromwell had ceased to walk up and down, Ralph pointed out with +considerable shrewdness that he did not suppose that his evidence was +going to form the main ground of the attack on More; and that it would +merely weaken the position to bring such feeble arguments to bear. + +"Why he would tear them to shreds, sir, in five minutes; he would make +out that they were our principal grounds--he is a skilled lawyer. If I +may dare to say so, Master Cromwell, let your words against Mr. More be +few and choice." + +This was bolder speaking than he had ever ventured on before; but +Cromwell was in a good humour. The peers had proved tractable and had +agreed to pass the attainder against Elizabeth Barton without any more +talk of justice and the accused's right of defence; and he looked now at +Ralph with a grim approval. + +"I believe you are right, Mr. Torridon. I will think, over it." + +A week later the blow fell. + + * * * * * + +Cromwell looked up at him one Sunday evening as he came into the room, +with his papers, and without any greeting spoke at once. + +"I wish you to go to Lambeth House to-morrow morning early, Mr. +Torridon. Master More is to be there to have the Oath of Succession +tendered to him with the others. Do your best to persuade him to take +it; be his true friend." + +A little grim amusement shone in his eyes as he spoke. Ralph looked at +him a moment. + +"I mean it, Mr. Torridon: do your best. I wish him to think you his +friend." + + * * * * * + +As Ralph went across the Thames in a wherry the following morning, he +was still thinking out the situation. Apparently Cromwell wished to keep +in friendly touch with More; and this now, of course, was only possible +through Ralph, and would have been impossible if the latter's evidence +had been used, or were going to be used. It was a relief to him to know +that the consummation of his treachery was postponed at least for the +present; (but he would not have called it treachery). + +As Lambeth towers began to loom ahead, Ralph took out Beatrice's letter +that had come in answer to his own a few days before, and ran his eyes +over it. It was a line of passionate thanks and blessing. Surely he had +reached her hidden heart at last. He put the letter back in his inner +pocket, just before he stepped ashore. It no doubt would be a useful +evidence of his own sincerity in his interview with More. + +There was a great crowd in the court as he passed through, for many were +being called to take the oath, which, however, was not made strictly +legal until the following Second Act in the autumn. Several carriages +were drawn up near the house door, and among them Ralph recognised the +liveries of his master and of Lord Chancellor Audley. A number of horses +and mules too were tethered to rings in the wall on the other side with +grooms beside them, and ecclesiastics and secretaries were coming and +going, disputing in groups, calling to one another, in the pleasant +April sunshine. + +On enquiry he found that the Commissioners were sitting in one of the +downstair parlours; but one of Cromwell's servants at the door told him +that he was not to go in there, but that Mr. More was upstairs by +himself, and that if he pleased he would show him the way. + +It was an old room looking on to the garden, scantily furnished, with a +patch of carpet by the window and a table and chair set upon it. More +turned round from the window-seat on which he was kneeling to look out, +and smiled genially as Ralph heard the servant close the door. + +"Why, Mr. Torridon, are you in trouble too? This is the detention-room +whither I am sent to consider myself." + +He led Ralph, still holding his hand, to the window-seat, where he +leaned again looking eagerly into the garden. + +"There go the good boys," he said, "to and fro in the playground; and +here sit I. I suppose I have nothing but the rod to look for." + +Ralph felt a little awkward in the presence of this gaiety; and for a +minute or two leaned out beside More, staring mechanically at the +figures that passed up and down. He had expected almost to find him at +his prayers, or at least thoughtfully considering himself. + +More commented agreeably on the passers-by. + +"Dr. Wilson was here a moment ago; but he is off now, with a man on +either side. He too is a naughty fellow like myself, and will not listen +to reason. There is the Vicar of Croydon, good man, coming out of the +buttery wiping his mouth." + +Ralph looked down at the priest's flushed excited face; he was talking +with a kind of reckless gaiety to a friend who walked beside him. + +"He was sad enough just now," went on the other, "while he was still +obstinate; but his master hath patted him on the head now and given him +cake and wine. He was calling out for a drink just now (which he hath +got, I see) either for gladness or for dryness, or else that we might +know _quod ille notus erat pontifici_." + +Dr. Latimer passed presently, his arms on either side flung round a +priest's neck; he too was talking volubly and laughing; and the skirts +of his habit wagged behind him. + +"He is in high feather," said More, "and I have no doubt that his +conscience is as clear as his eyes. Come, Mr. Torridon; sit you down. +What have you come for?" + +Ralph sat back on the window-seat with his back to the light, and his +hat between his knees. + +"I came to see you, sir; I have not been to the Commissioners. I heard +you were here." + +"Why, yes," said More, "here I am." + +"I came to see if I could be of any use to you, Master More; I know a +friend's face is a good councillor sometimes, even though that friend be +a fool." + +More patted him softly on the knee. + +"No fool," he said, "far from it." + +He looked at him so oddly that Ralph feared that he suspected him; so he +made haste to bring out Beatrice's letter. + +"Mistress Atherton has written me this," he said. "I was able to do her +a little service--at least I thought it so then." + +More took the letter and glanced at it. + +"A very pretty letter," he said, "and why do you show it me?" + +Ralph looked at him steadily. + +"Because I am Master Cromwell's servant; and you never forget it." + +More burst into a fit of laughter; and then took Ralph kindly by the +hand. + +"You are either very innocent or very deep," he said. "And what have you +come to ask me?" + +"I have come to ask nothing, Master More," said Ralph indignantly, +withdrawing his hand--"except to be of service to you." + +"To talk about the oath," corrected the other placidly. "Very well then. +Do you begin, Mr. Torridon." + +Ralph made a great effort, for he was sorely perplexed by Sir Thomas' +attitude, and began to talk, putting all the reasons forward that he +could think of for the accepting of the oath. He pointed out that +government and allegiance would be impossible things if every man had to +examine for himself the claims of his rulers; when vexed and elaborate +questions arose--and this certainly was one such--was it not safer to +follow the decrees of the King and Parliament, rather than to take up a +position of private judgment, and decide upon details of which a subject +could have no knowledge? How, too, could More, under the circumstances, +take upon himself to condemn those who had subscribed the oath?--he +named a few eminent prelates, the Abbot of Westminster and others. + +"I do not condemn them," put in More, who was looking interested. + +"Then you are uncertain of the matter?" went on Ralph who had thought +out his line of argument with some care. + +More assented. + +"But your duty to the King's grace is certain; therefore it should +outweigh a thing that is doubtful." + +Sir Thomas sucked in his lower lip, and stared gravely on the young +man. + +"You are very shrewd, sir," he said. "I do not know how to answer that +at this moment; but I have no reasonable doubt but that there is an +answer." + +Ralph was delighted with his advantage, and pursued it eagerly; and +after a few minutes had won from More an acknowledgment that he might be +willing to consider the taking of the oath itself; it was the other +clauses that touched his conscience more. He could swear to be loyal to +Anne's children; but he could not assent to the denunciation of the Pope +contained in the preamble of the Act, and the oath would commit him to +that. + +"But you will tell that to the Commissioners, sir?" asked Ralph eagerly. + +"I will tell them all that I have told you," said More smiling. + +Ralph himself was somewhat doubtful as to whether the concession would +be accepted; but he professed great confidence, and secretly +congratulated himself with having made so much way. But presently a +remark of More's showed that he appreciated the situation. + +"I am very grateful to you, Mr. Torridon, for coming and talking to me; +and I shall tell my wife and children so. But it is of no use. They are +resolved to catch me. First there was the bribe; then the matter of the +Maid; then this; and if I took a hundred oaths they would find one more +that I could not, without losing my soul; and that indeed I do not +propose to do. _Quid enim proficit homo?_" + +There was a knock at the door a moment later, and a servant came in to +beg Mr. More to come downstairs again; the Commissioners were ready for +him. + +"Then good-day, Mr. Torridon. You will come and see me sometimes, even +if not at Chelsea. Wherever I may be it will be as nigh heaven as +Chelsea." + +Ralph went down with him, and parted from him at the door of the +Commissioner's room; and half-an-hour later a message was sent out to +him by Cromwell that he need wait no longer; Mr. More had refused the +oath, and had been handed over to the custody of the Abbot of +Westminster. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A MERRY PRISONER + + +The arrest of Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fisher and their committal to +the Tower a few days later caused nothing less than consternation in +England and of furious indignation on the Continent. It was evident that +greatness would save no man; the best hope lay in obscurity, and men who +had been loud in self-assertion now grew timorous and silent. + +Ralph was now in the thick of events. Besides his connection with More, +he had been present at one of the examinations of the Maid of Kent and +her admirers; had formed one of the congregation at Paul's Cross when +the confession drawn up for her had been read aloud in her name by Dr. +Capon, who from the pulpit opposite the platform where the penitents +were set, preached a vigorous sermon against credulity and superstition. +Ralph had read the confession over a couple of days before in Cromwell's +room, and had suggested a few verbal alterations; and he had been +finally present, a few days after More's arrest, at the last scene of +the drama, when Elizabeth Barton, with six priests, suffered, under the +provisions of an act of attainder, on Tyburn gallows. + +All these events were indications of the course that things were taking +in regard to greater matters. Parliament had now advanced further than +ever in the direction of a breach with Rome, and had transferred the +power of nomination to bishoprics from the Holy See to the Crown, and, +what was as least as significant, had dealt in a similar manner with the +authority over Religious houses. + +On the other side, Rome had declared definitely against the annulling of +Queen Katharine's marriage, and to this the King had retorted by turning +the pulpits against the Pope, and in the course of this had found +himself compelled to deal sharply with the Franciscans, who were at the +same time the most popular and the most papal of all preachers. In the +following out of this policy, first several notable friars were +imprisoned, and next a couple of subservient Religious, a Dominican and +an Augustinian, were appointed grand visitors of the rebellious Order. + +A cloud of terror now began to brood over the Religious houses in +England, as the news of these proceedings became known, and Ralph had a +piteous letter from his father, entreating him to give some explanation +of the course of affairs so far as was compatible with loyalty to his +master, and at least his advice as to Christopher's profession. + +"We hear sad tales, dear son," wrote Sir James, "on all sides are fears, +and no man knows what the end will be. Some even say that the Orders +will be reduced in number. And who knows what may be toward now that the +Bishop and Mr. More are in trouble. I know not what is all this that +Parliament has been doing about the Holy Father his authority; but I am +sure that it cannot be more than what other reigns have brought about in +declaring that the Prince is temporal lord of his land. But, however +that may be, what do you advise that your brother should do? He is to be +professed in August, unless it is prevented, and I dare not put out my +hand to hinder it, until I know more. I do not ask you, dear son, to +tell me what you should not; I know my duty and yours too well for that. +But I entreat you to tell me what you can, that I may not consent to +your brother's profession if it is better that it should not take place +until affairs are quieter. Your mother would send you her dear love, I +know, if she knew I were writing, but she is in her chamber, and the +messenger must go with this. Jesu have you in His blessed keeping!" + +Ralph wrote back that he knew no reason against Christopher's +profession, except what might arise from the exposure of the Holy Maid +on whose advice he had gone to Lewes, and that if his father and brother +were satisfied on that score, he hoped that Christopher would follow +God's leading. + +At the same time that he wrote this he was engaged, under Cromwell's +directions, in sifting the evidence offered by the grand visitors to +show that the friars refused to accept the new enactments on the subject +of the papal jurisdiction. + + * * * * * + +On the other hand, the Carthusians in London had proved more submissive. +There had been a struggle at first when the oath of the succession had +been tendered to them, and Prior Houghton, with the Procurator, Humphrey +Middlemore, had been committed to the Tower. The oath affirmed the +nullity of Queen Katharine's marriage with the King on the alleged +ground of her consummated marriage with Henry's elder brother, and +involved, though the Carthusians did not clearly understand it so at the +time, a rejection of the Pope's authority as connected with the +dispensation for Katharine's union with Henry. In May their scruples +were removed by the efforts of some who had influence with them, and the +whole community took the oath as required of them, though with the +pathetic addition of a clause that they only submitted "so far as it +was lawful for them so to do." This actual submission, to Cromwell's +mind and therefore to Ralph's, was at first of more significance than +was the uneasy temper of the community, as reported to them, which +followed their compliance; but as the autumn drew on this opinion was +modified. + +It was in connection with this that Ralph became aware for the first +time of what was finally impending with regard to the King's supremacy +over the Church. + +He had been sitting in Cromwell's room in the Chancery all through one +morning, working at the evidence that was flowing in from all sides of +disaffection to Henry's policy, sifting out worthless and frivolous +charges from serious ones. Every day a flood of such testimony poured in +from the spies in all parts of the country, relating to the deepening +dissatisfaction with the method of government; and Cromwell, as the +King's adviser, came in for much abuse. Every kind of manifestation of +this was reported, the talk in the ale-houses and at gentlemen's tables +alike, words dropped in the hunting-field or over a game of cards; and +the offenders were dealt with in various ways, some by a sharp rebuke or +warning, others by a sudden visit of a pursuivant and his men. + +Ralph made his report as usual at the end of the morning, and was on the +point of leaving, when his master called him back from the door. + +"A moment," he said, "I have something to say. Sit down." + +When Ralph had taken the chair again that he had just left, Cromwell +took up a pen, and began to play with it delicately as he talked. + +"You will have noticed," he began, "how hot the feeling runs in the +country, and I am sure you will also have understood why it is so. It +is not so much what has happened,--I mean in the matter of the marriage +and of the friars,--but what folk fear is going to happen. It seems to +the people that security is disappearing; they do not understand that +their best security lies in obedience. And, above all, they think that +matters are dangerous with regard to the Church. They know now that the +Pope has spoken, and that the King pays no heed, but, on the other hand, +waxes more bold. And that because his conscience bids him. Remember +that, sir, when you have to do with his Highness." + +He glanced at Ralph again, but there was no mockery in his solemn eyes. +Then he went on. + +"I am going to tell you, Mr. Torridon, that these folks are partly +right, and that his Grace has not yet done all that he intends. There is +yet one more step to take--and that is to declare the King supreme over +the Church of England." + +Ralph felt those strong eyes bent upon him, and he nodded, making no +sign of approval or otherwise. + +"This is no new thing, Mr. Torridon," went on Cromwell, after a moment's +silence. "The King of England has always been supreme, though I will +acknowledge that this has become obscured of late. But it is time that +it be re-affirmed. The Popes have waxed presumptuous, and have laid +claim to titles that Christ never gave them, and it is time that they be +reminded that England is free, and will not suffer their domination. As +for the unity of the Catholic Church, that can be attended to later on, +and on firmer ground; when the Pope has been taught not to wax so proud. +There will be an Act passed by Parliament presently, perhaps next year, +to do this business, and then we shall know better what to do. Until +that, it is very necessary, as you have already seen, to keep the folks +quiet, and not to suffer any contradiction of his Grace's rights. Do you +understand me, Mr. Torridon?" + +Cromwell laid the pen clown and leaned back in his chair, with his +fingers together. + +"I understand, sir," said Ralph, in a perfectly even tone. + +"Well, that is all that I have to say," ended his master, still watching +him. "I need not tell you how necessary secrecy is in the matter." + +Ralph was considerably startled as he went home, and realized better +what it was that he had heard. While prudent persons were already +trembling at the King's effrontery and daring in the past, Henry was +meditating a yet further step. He began to see now that the instinct of +the country was, as always, sharper than that of the individual, and +that these uneasy strivings everywhere rose from a very definite +perception of danger. The idea of the King's supremacy, as represented +by Cromwell, would not seem to be a very startling departure; similar +protests of freedom had been made in previous reigns, but now, following +as it did upon overt acts of disobedience to the Sovereign Pontiff, and +of disregard of his authority in matters of church-law and even of the +status of Religious houses, it seemed to have a significance that +previous protests had lacked. + +And behind it all was the King's conscience! This was a new thought to +Ralph, but the more he considered it the more it convinced him. It was a +curious conscience, but a mighty one, and it was backed by an +indomitable will. For the first time there opened out to Ralph's mind a +glimpse of the possibility that he had scarcely dreamed of hitherto--of +a Nationalism in Church affairs that was a reality rather than a +theory--in which the Bishop of Rome while yet the foremost bishop of +Christendom and endowed with special prerogatives, yet should have no +finger in national affairs, which should be settled by the home +authorities without reference to him. No doubt, he told himself, a +readjustment was needed--visions and fancies had encrusted themselves so +quickly round the religion credible by a practical man that a scouring +was called for. How if this should be the method by which not only such +accretions should be done away, but yet more practical matters should be +arranged, and steps taken to amend the unwarranted interferences and +pecuniary demands of this foreign bishop? + +He had had more than one interview with Sir Thomas More in the Tower, +and once was able to take him news of his own household at Chelsea. For +a month none of his own people, except his servant, was allowed to visit +him, and Ralph, calling on him about three weeks after the beginning of +his imprisonment, found him eager for news. + +He was in a sufficiently pleasant cell in the Beauchamp Tower, furnished +with straw mats underfoot, and straw hangings in place of a wainscot; +his bed stood in one corner, with his crucifix and beads on a little +table beside it, and his narrow window looked out through eleven feet of +wall towards the Court and the White Tower. His books, too, which his +servant, John Wood, had brought from Chelsea, and which had not yet been +taken from him, stood about the room, and several lay on the table among +his papers, at which he was writing when Ralph was admitted by the +warder. + +"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Torridon," he said, "I knew you would +not forget an old friend, even though he could not take your counsel. I +daresay you have come to give it me again, however." + +"If I thought you would take it," began Ralph. + +"But I will not," said More smiling, "no more than before. Sit down, Mr. +Torridon." + +Ralph had come at Cromwell's suggestion, and with a very great +willingness of his own, too. He knew he could not please Beatrice more +than by visiting her friend, and he himself was pleased and amused to +think that he could serve his master's interests from one side and his +own from another by one action. + +He talked a little about the oath again, and mentioned how many had +taken it during the last week or two. + +"I am pleased that they can do it with a good conscience," observed +More. "And now let us talk of other matters. If I would not do it for my +daughter's sake, who begged me, I would not do it for the sake of both +the Houses of Parliament, nor even, dear Mr. Torridon, for yours and +Master Cromwell's." + +Ralph saw that it was of no use, and began to speak of other things. He +gave him news of Chelsea. + +"They are not very merry there," he said, "and I hardly suppose you +would wish them to be." + +"Why not?" cried More, with a beaming face, "I am merry enough. I would +not be a monk; so God hath compelled me to be one, and treats me as one +of His own spoilt children. He setteth me on His lap and dandleth me. I +have never been so happy." + +He told Ralph presently that his chief sorrow was that he could not go +to mass or receive the sacraments. The Lieutenant, Sir Edward +Walsingham, who had been his friend, had told him that he would very +gladly have given him liberties of this kind, but that he dared not, for +fear of the King's displeasure. + +"But I told him," said More, "not to trouble himself that I liked his +cheer well enough as it was, and if ever I did not he was to put me out +of his doors." + +After a little more talk he showed Ralph what he was writing. It was a +treatise called a "Dialogue of Comfort against Tribulation." + +"It is to persuade myself," he said, "that I am no more a prisoner than +I was before; I know I am, but sometimes forget it. We are all God's +prisoners." + +Ralph glanced down the page just written and was astonished at its good +humour. + +"Some prisoner of another gaol," he read, "singeth, danceth in his two +fetters, and feareth not his feet for stumbling at a stone; while God's +prisoner, that hath but his one foot fettered by the gout, lieth +groaning on a couch, and quaketh and crieth out if he fear there would +fall on his foot no more than a cushion." + + * * * * * + +Ralph went straight up the river from the Tower to Chelsea to take them +news of the prisoner, and was silent and moody as he went. He had been +half touched and half enraged by More's bearing--touched by his +simplicity and cheerfulness and enraged by his confidence in a bad +cause. + +Mrs. Alice More behaved as usual when he got there: she had a genius for +the obvious; commented on the weariness of living in one room, the +distress at the thought that one was fastened in at the will of another; +deplored the plainness of the prison fare, and the folly of her husband +in refusing an oath that she herself and her children and the vast +majority of the prominent persons in England had found so simple in +accepting. She left nothing unsaid. + +Finally, she apologized for the plainness of her dress. + +"You must think me a slattern, Mr. Torridon, but I cannot help it. I +have not the heart nor the means, now that my man is in prison, to do +better." + +And her solemn eyes filled with tears. + +When he had given the news to the family he went aside from the group in +the garden to where Beatrice Atherton was sitting below the Jesu tree, +with work on her lap. + +He had noticed as he talked that she was sitting there, and had raised +his voice for her benefit. He fancied, and with a pleasure at the +delicate instinct, that she did not wish to appear as intimately +interested in the news from the Tower as those who had a better right to +be. He was always detecting now faint shades in her character, as he +knew her better, that charmed and delighted him. + +She was doing some mending, and only glanced up and down again without +ceasing or moving, as Ralph stood by her. + +"I thought you never used the needle," he began in a moment. + +"It is never too late to mend," she said, without the faintest movement. + +Ralph felt again an odd prick of happiness. It gave him a distinct +thrill of delight that she would make such an answer and so swiftly; and +at such a time, when tragedy was round her and in her heart, for he knew +how much she loved the man from whom he had just come. + +He sat down on the garden chair opposite, and watched her fingers and +the movements of her wrist as she passed the needle in and out, and +neither spoke again till the others had dispersed. + +"You heard all I said?" said Ralph at last. + +She bowed her head without answering. + +"Shall I go and bring you news again presently?" + +"If you please," she said. + +"I hope to be able to do some little things for him," went on Ralph, +dropping his eyes, and he was conscious that she momentarily looked up. + +--"But I am afraid there is not much. I shall speak for him to Master +Cromwell and the Lieutenant." + +The needle paused and then went on again. + +Ralph was conscious of an extraordinary momentousness in every word that +he said. He was well aware that this girl was not to be wooed by +violence, but that he must insinuate his mind and sympathies delicately +with hers, watching for every movement and ripple of thought. He had +known ever since his talk with Margaret Roper that Beatrice was, as it +were, turned towards him and scrutinising him, and that any mistake on +his part, however slight, might finally alienate her. Even his gestures, +the tones of his voice, his manner of walking, were important elements. +He knew now that he was the kind of person who might be acceptable to +her--or rather that his personality contained one facet that pleased +her, and that he must be careful now to keep that facet turned towards +her continually at such an angle that she caught the flash. He had +sufficient sense, not to act a part, for that, he knew, she would soon +discover, but to be natural in his best way, and to use the fine +instincts that he was aware of possessing to tell him exactly how she +would wish him to express himself. It would be a long time yet, he +recognised, before he could attain his final object; in fact he was not +perfectly certain what he wanted; but meanwhile he availed himself of +every possible opportunity to get nearer, and was content with his +progress. + +He was sorely tempted now to discuss Sir Thomas's position and to +describe his own, but he perceived from her own aloofness just now that +it would seem a profanity, so he preserved silence instead, knowing that +it would be eloquent to her. At last she spoke again, and there was a +suggestion of a tremor in her voice. + +"I suppose you can do nothing for him really? He must stay in the +Tower?" + +Ralph threw out his hands, silently, expostulating. + +"Nothing?" she said again, bending over her work. + +Ralph stood up, looking down at her, but made no answer. + +"I--I would do anything," she said deliberately, "anything, I think, for +the man--" and then broke off abruptly. + + * * * * * + +Ralph went away from Chelsea that afternoon with a whirling head and +dancing heart. She had said no more than that, but he knew what she had +meant, and knew, too that she would not have said as much to anyone to +whom she was indifferent. Of course, it was hopeless to think of +bringing about More's release, but he could at least pretend to try, and +Ralph was aware that to chivalrous souls a pathetic failure often +appeals more than an excellent success. + +Folks turned to look after him more than once as he strode home. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A HIGHER STEP + + +As Chris, on the eve of his profession, looked back over the year that +had passed since his reception at the guest-house, he scarcely knew +whether it seemed like a week or a century. At times it appeared as if +the old life in the world were a kind of far-away picture in which he +saw himself as one detached from his present personality, moving among +curious scenes in which now he had no part; at other times the familiar +past rushed on him fiercely, deafened him with its appeal, and claimed +him as its own. In such moods the monastery was an intolerable prison, +the day's round an empty heart-breaking formality in which his soul was +being stifled, and even his habit, which he had once touched so +reverently, the badge of a fool. + +The life of the world at such times seemed to him the only sanity; these +men used the powers that God had given them, were content with simple +and unostentatious doings and interests, reached the higher vocation by +their very naivet, and did not seek to fly on wings that were not meant +to bear them. How sensible, Christopher told himself, was Ralph's ideal! +God had made the world, so Ralph lived in it--a world in which great and +small affairs were carried on, and in which he interested himself. God +had made horses and hawks, had provided materials for carriages and fine +clothes and cross-bows, had formed the sexes and allowed for love and +domestic matters, had created brains with their capacities of passion +and intellect; and so Ralph had taken these things as he found them, +hunted, dressed, lived, managed and mixed with men. At times in his cell +Chris saw that imposing figure in all its quiet bravery of dress, that +sane, clever face, those pitying and contemptuous eyes looking at him, +and heard the well-bred voice asking and commenting and wondering at the +misguided zeal of a brother who could give all this up, and seek to live +a life that was built on and sustained by illusions. + +One event during his first six months of the novitiate helped to +solemnise him and to clear the confusion. + +Old Dom Augustine was taken sick and died, and Chris for the first time +in his life watched the melting tragedy of death. The old monk had been +moved from the dortor to the sick-room when the end seemed imminent, and +one afternoon Chris noticed the little table set outside the door, with +its candles and crucifix, the basin of cotton-wool, and the other signs +that the last sacraments were to be administered. He knew little of the +old man, except his bleared face and shaking hands as he had seen them +in choir, and had never been greatly impressed by him; but it was +another matter when in the evening of the same day, at his master's +order he passed into the cell and knelt down with the others to see the +end. + +The old monk was lying now on the cross of ashes that had been spread on +the floor; his features looked pinched and white in the candlelight; his +old mouth moved incessantly, and opened now and again to gasp; but there +was an august dignity on his face that Chris had never seen there +before. + +Outside the night was still and frosty; only now and again the heavy +stroke of the bell told the town that a soul was passing. + +Dom Augustine had received Viaticum an hour before. Chris had heard the +steady tinkle of the bell, like the sound of Aaron's garments, as the +priest who had brought him Communion passed back with his sacred burden, +and Chris had fallen on his knees where he stood as he caught a glimpse +of the white procession passing back to the church, their frosty breath +going up together in the winter night air, the wheeling shadows, and the +glare of the torches giving a pleasant warm light in the dull cloister. + +But all that was over now, and the end was at hand. + +As Chris knelt there, mechanically responding to the prayers on which +the monk's soul was beginning to lift itself and flutter for escape, +there fell a great solemnity on his spirit. The thought, as old as +death, made itself real to him, that this was the end of every man and +of himself too. Where Dom Augustine lay, he would lie, with his past +behind him, of which every detail would be instinct with eternal import. +All the tiny things of the monastic life--the rising in time for the +night office, attention during it, the responses to grace, the little +movements prescribed by etiquette, the invisible motions of a soul that +had or had not acted for the love of God, those stirrings, falls, +aspirations, that incessant activity of eighty years--all so incredibly +minute from one point of view, so incredibly weighty from another--the +account of all those things was to be handed in now, and an eternal +judgment given. + +He looked at the wearied, pained old face again, at the tight-shut eyes, +the jerking movements of the unshaven lips, and wondered what was +passing behind;--what strange colloquy of the soul with itself or its +Master or great personages of the Court of Heaven. And all was set in +this little bare setting of white walls, a tumbled bed, a shuttered +window, a guttering candle or two, a cross of ashes on boards, a ring +of faces, and a murmur of prayers! + +The solemnity rose and fell in Chris's soul like a deep organ-note +sounding and waning. How homely and tender were these last rites, this +accompaniment of the departing soul to the edge of eternity with all +that was dear and familiar to it--the drops of holy water, the mellow +light of candles, and the sonorous soothing Latin! And yet--and yet--how +powerless to save a soul that had not troubled to make the necessary +efforts during life, and had lost the power of making them now! + + * * * * * + +When all was over he went out of the cell with an indescribable gravity at +his heart. + + * * * * * + +When the great events in the spring of '34 began to take place, Chris +was in a period of abstracted peace, and the rumours of them came to him +as cries from another planet. + +Dom Anthony Marks came into the cloister one day from the guest-house +with a great excitement in his face, + +"Here is news!" he said, joining himself to Chris and another young monk +with whom the lonely novice was sometimes allowed to walk. "Master +Humphreys, from London, tells me they are all in a ferment there." + +Chris looked at him with a deferential coldness, and waited for more. + +"They say that Master More hath refused the oath, and that he is lodged +in the Tower, and my Lord of Rochester too." + +The young monk burst into exclamations and questions, but Chris was +silent. It was sad enough, but what did it matter to him? What did it +really matter to anyone? God was King. + +Dom Anthony was in a hurry, and scuffled off presently to tell the +Prior, and in an hour or two there was an air of excitement through the +house. Chris, however, heard nothing more except the little that the +novice-master chose to tell him, and felt a certain contempt for the +anxious-eyed monks who broke the silence by whispers behind doors, and +the peace of the monastery by their perturbed looks. + + * * * * * + +Even when a little later in the summer the commissioner came down to +tender the oath of succession Chris heard little and cared less. He was +aware of a fine gentleman striding through the cloister, lolling in the +garth, and occupying a prominent seat in the church; he noticed that his +master was long in coming to him after the protracted chapter-meetings, +but it appeared to him all rather an irrelevant matter. These things +were surely quite apart from the business for which they were all +gathered in the house--the _opus Dei_ and the salvation of souls; this +or that legal document did not seriously affect such high matters. + +The novice-master told him presently that the community had signed the +oath, as all others were doing, and that there was no need for anxiety: +they were in the hands of their Religious Superiors. + +"I was not anxious," said Chris abruptly, and Dom James hastened to snub +him, and to tell him that he ought to have been, but that novices always +thought they knew everything, and were the chief troubles that Religious +houses had to put up with. + +Chris courteously begged pardon, and went to his lessons wondering what +in the world all the pother was about. + +But such moods of detachment were not continuous they visited him for +weeks at a time, when his soul was full of consolation, and he was +amazed that any other life seemed possible to anyone. He seemed to +himself to have reached the very heart and secret of existence--surely +it was plain enough; God and eternity were the only things worth +considering; a life passed in an ecstasy, if such were possible, was +surely more consonant with reality than one of ordinary activities. +Activities were, after all, but concessions to human weakness and desire +for variety; contemplation was the simple and natural attitude of a soul +that knew herself and God. + +But he was a man as well as a novice, and when these moods ebbed from +his soul they left him strangely bitter and dry: the clouds would +gather; the wind of discontent would begin to shrill about the angles of +his spirit, and presently the storm of desolation would be up. + +He had one such tempestuous mood immediately before his profession. + +During its stress he had received a letter from his father which he was +allowed to read, in which Sir James half hinted at the advisability of +postponing the irrevocable step until things were quieter, and his heart +had leaped at the possibility of escape. He did not know till then how +strong had grown the motive of appearing well in the eyes of his +relatives and of fearing to lose their respect by drawing back; and now +that his father, too, seemed to suggest that he had better re-consider +himself, it appeared that a door was opened in the high monastery wall +through which he might go through and take his honour with him. + +He passed through a terrible struggle that night. + +Never had the night-office seemed so wearisomely barren. The glamour +that had lighted those dark walls and the double row of cowls and +down-bent faces, the mystical beauty of the single flames here and +there that threw patches of light on the carving of the stalls and the +sombre habits, and gave visibility and significance to what without them +was obscure, the strange suggestiveness of the high-groined roof and the +higher vault glimmering through the summer darkness--all this had faded +and left him, as it seemed, sane and perceptive of facts at last. Out +there through those transepts lay the town where reasonable folk slept, +husband and wife together, and the children in the great bed next door, +with the tranquil ordinary day behind them and its fellow before; there +were the streets, still now and dark and empty but for the sleeping +dogs, where the signs swung and the upper stories leaned together, and +where the common life had been transacted since the birth of the town +and would continue till its decay. And beyond lay the cool round hills, +with their dark dewy slopes, over which he had ridden a year ago, and +all England beyond them again, with its human life and affairs and +interests; and over all hung the serene stars whence God looked down +well pleased with all that He had made. + +And, meanwhile, here he stood in his stall in his night shoes and black +habit and cropped head, propped on his misericorde, with the great pages +open before him, thumbed and greasy at their corners, from which he was +repeating in a loud monotone formula after formula that had had time to +grow familiar from repetition, but not yet sweet from associations--here +he stood with heavy eyelids after his short sleep, his feet aching and +hot, and his whole soul rebellious. + + * * * * * + +He was sent by his novice-master next day to the Prior, with his +father's letter in his hand, and stood humbly by the door while the +Prior read it. Chris watched him under half-raised eye-lids; saw the +clean-cut profile with its delicate mouth bent over the paper, and the +hand with the enamelled ring turn the page. Prior Crowham was a +cultivated, well-bred man, not over strong-willed, but courteous and +sympathetic. He turned a little to Chris in his carved chair, as he laid +the letter down. + +"Well," he said, smiling, "it is for you to choose whether you will +offer yourself. Of course, there is uneasiness abroad, as this letter +says, but what then?" + +He smiled pleasantly at the young man, and Chris felt a little ashamed. +There was silence for a moment. + +"It is for you to choose," said the Prior again, "you have been happy +with us, I think?" + +Chris pressed his lips together and looked down. + +"Of course Satan will not leave you alone," went on the monk presently. +"He will suggest many reasons against your profession. If he did not, I +should be afraid that you had no vocation." + +Again he waited for an answer, and again Chris was silent. His soul was +so desolate that he could not trust himself to say all that he felt. + +"You must wait a little," went on the Prior, "recommend yourself to our +Lady and our Patron, and then leave yourself in their hands. You will +know better when you have had a few days. Will you do this, and then +come to me again?" + +"Yes, my Lord Prior," said Chris, and he took up the letter, bowed, and +went out. + + * * * * * + +Within the week relief and knowledge came to him. He had done what the +monk had told him, and it had been followed by a curious sense of relief +at the thought suggested to him that the responsibility of decision did +not rest on him but on his heavenly helpers. And then as he served mass +the answer came. + +It was in the chapel of the Blessed Virgin, a little building entered +from the north transept, with its windows opening directly on to the +road leading up into the town; there was no one there but the two. It +was about seven o'clock on the feast of the Seven Martyrs, and the +chapel was full of a diffused tender morning light, for the chapel was +sheltered from the direct sunshine by the tall church on its south. + +As they went up to the altar the bell sounded for the Elevation at the +high-altar of the church, at the _missa familiaris_, and the footstep of +someone passing through the north transept ceased instantly at the +sound. The priest ascended the steps, set down the vessels, spread the +corporal, opened the book, and came down again for the preparation. +There was no one else in the chapel, and the peace of the place in the +summer light, only vitalized by the brisk chirping of a sparrow under +the eaves, entered into Christopher's soul. + +As the mass went on it seemed as if a veil were lifting from his spirit, +and leaving it free and sensible again. The things around him fell into +their proper relationships, and there was no doubt in his mind that this +newly restored significance of theirs was their true interpretation. +They seemed penetrated and suffused by the light of the inner world; the +red-brocaded chasuble moving on a level with his eyes, stirring with the +shifting of the priest's elbows, was more than a piece of rich stuff, +the white alb beneath more than mere linen, the hood thrown back in the +amice a sacramental thing. He looked up at the smoky yellow flames +against the painted woodwork at the back of the altar, at the +discoloured stones beside the grey window-mouldings still with the +slanting marks of the chisel upon them, at the black rafters overhead, +and last out through the shafted window at the heavy July foliage of the +elm that stood by the road and the brilliant morning sky beyond; and +once more he saw what these things meant and conveyed to an immortal +soul. The words that he had said during these last weeks so mechanically +were now rich and alive again, and as he answered the priest he +perceived the spiritual vibration of them in the inner world of which +his own soul was but a part. And then the climax was reached, and he +lifted the skirt of the vestment with his left hand and shook the bell +in his right; the last shreds of confusion were gone, and his spirit +basked tranquil and content and certain again in the light that was +newly risen on him. + +He went to the novice-master after the morning-chapter, and told him +that he had made up his mind to offer himself for profession if it was +thought advisable by the authorities. + + * * * * * + +Towards the end of August he presented himself once more before the +chapter to make his solemn demand; his petition was granted, and a day +appointed for his profession. + +Then he withdrew into yet stricter seclusion to prepare for the step. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +LIFE AT LEWES + + +Under the direction of the junior-master who overlooked the young monks +for some years after their profession, Chris continued his work of +illumination, for which he had shown great aptitude during his year of +noviceship. + +The art was beginning to disappear, since the introduction of printing +had superseded the need of manuscript, but in some Religious Houses it +was still thought a suitable exercise during the hours appointed for +manual labour. + +It was soon after the beginning of the new year that Chris was entrusted +with a printed antiphonary that had its borders and initials left white; +and he carried the great loose sheets with a great deal of pride to the +little carrel or wooden stall assigned to him in the northern cloister. + +It was a tiny room, scarcely six feet square, lighted by the window into +the cloister-garth, and was almost entirely filled by the chair, the +sloping desk against the wall, and the table where the pigments and +brushes lay ready to the hand. The door opened on to the cloister itself +where the professed monks were at liberty to walk, and on the opposite +side stood the broad aumbries that held the library of the house; and it +was from the books here that Chris was allowed to draw ideas for his +designs. It was a great step in that life of minute details when now for +the first time he was permitted to follow his own views, instead of +merely filling in with colour outlines already drawn for him; and he +found his scheme for the decoration a serious temptation to distraction +during the office. As he stood among the professed monks, in his own +stall at last, he found his eyes wandering away to the capitals of the +round pillars, the stone foliage and fruit that burst out of the slender +shafts, the grim heads that strained forward in mitre and crown +overhead, and even the living faces of his brethren and superiors, clear +against the dark woodwork. When he bent his eyes resolutely on his book +he found his mind still intent on his more secular business; he mentally +corrected this awkward curve of the initial, substituted an oak spray +with acorns for that stiff monstrosity, and set my Lord Prior's face +grinning among griffins at the foot of the page where humour was more +readily admitted. + +It was an immense joy when he closed his carrel-door, after his hour's +siesta in the dormitory, and sat down to his work. He was still warm +with sleep, and the piercing cold of the unwarmed cloister did not +affect him, but he set his feet on the sloping wooden footstool that +rested on the straw for fear they should get cold, and turned smiling to +his side-table. + +There were all the precious things laid out; the crow's quills sharpened +to an almost invisible point for the finer lines, the two sets of +pencils, one of silver-point that left a faint grey line, and the other +of haematite for the burnishing of the gold, the badger and minever +brushes, the sponge and pumice-stone for erasures; the horns for black +and red ink lay with the scissors and rulers on the little upper shelf +of his desk. There were the pigments also there, which he had learnt to +grind and prepare, the crushed lapis lazuli first calcined by heat +according to the modern degenerate practice, with the cheap German blue +beside it, and the indigo beyond; the prasinum; the vermilion and red +lead ready mixed, and the rubrica beside it; the yellow orpiment, and, +most important of all, the white pigments, powdered chalk and egg +shells, lying by the biacca. In a separate compartment covered carefully +from chance draughts or dust lay the precious gold leaf, and a little +vessel of the inferior fluid gold used for narrow lines. + + * * * * * + +His first business was to rule the thick red lines down the side of the +text, using a special metal pen for it; and then to begin to sketch in +his initials and decorations. For this latter part of the work he had +decided to follow the lines of Foucquet from a Book of the Hours that he +had taken out of its aumbry; a mass of delicate foliage and leaves, with +medallions set in it united by twisted thorn-branches twining upwards +through the broad border. These medallions on the first sheet he +purposed to fill with miniatures of the famous relics kept at Lewes, the +hanging sleeve of the Blessed Virgin in its crystal case, the +drinking-cup of Cana, the rod of Moses, and the Magdalene's box of +ointment. In the later pages which would be less elaborate he would +introduce the other relics, and allow his humour free play in designing +for the scrolls at the foot tiny portraits of his brethren; the Prior +should be in a mitre and have the legs and tail of a lion, the +novice-master, with a fox's brush emerging from his flying cowl, should +be running from a hound who carried a discipline in his near paw. But +there was time yet to think of these things; it would be weeks before +that page could be reached, and meanwhile there was the foliage to be +done, and the rose leaf that lay on his desk to be copied minutely from +a hundred angles. + + * * * * * + +His distractions at mass and office were worse than ever now that the +great work was begun, and week after week in confession there was the +same tale. The mere process was so absorbing, apart from the joy of +creation and design. More than once he woke from a sweating nightmare in +the long dormitory, believing that he had laid on gold-leaf without +first painting the surface with the necessary mordant, or had run his +stilus through his most delicate miniature. But he made extraordinary +progress in the art; and the Prior more than once stepped into his +carrel and looked over his shoulder, watching the slender fingers with +the bone pen between them polishing the gold till it shone like a +mirror, or the steady lead pencil moving over the white page in +faultless curve. Then he would pat him on the shoulder, and go out in +approving silence. + + * * * * * + +Chris was supremely content that he had done right in asking for +profession. It appeared to him that he had found a life that was above +all others worthy of an immortal soul. The whole day's routine was +directed to one end, the performance of the _Opus Dei_, the uttering of +praises to Him who had made and was sustaining and would receive again +all things to Himself. + +They rose at midnight for the night-office that the sleeping world might +not be wholly dumb to God; went to rest again; rose once more with the +world, and set about a yet sublimer worship. A stream of sacrifice +poured up to the Throne through the mellow summer morning, or the cold +winter darkness and gloom, from altar after altar in the great church. +Christopher remembered pleasantly a morning soon after the beginning of +his novitiate when he had been in the church as a set of priests came in +and began mass simultaneously; the mystical fancy suggested itself as +the hum of voices began that he was in a garden, warm and bright with +grace, and that bees were about him making honey--that fragrant +sweetness of which it had been said long ago that God should eat--and as +the tinkle of the Elevation sounded out here and there, it seemed to him +as a signal that the mysterious confection was done, and that every +altar sprang into perfume from those silver vessels set with jewel and +crystal. + +When the first masses were over, there was a pause in which the _mixtum_ +was taken--bread and wine or beer--standing in the refectory, after a +short prayer that the Giver of all good gifts might bless the food and +drink of His servants, and was closed again by another prayer said +privately for all benefactors. Meanwhile the bell was ringing for the +Lady mass, to remind the monks that the interval was only as it were a +parenthetical concession; and after Terce and the Lady Mass followed the +Chapter, in which faults were confessed and penances inflicted, and the +living instruments of God's work were examined and scoured for use. The +martyrology was read at this time, as well as some morning prayers, to +keep before the monks' minds the remembrance of those great vessels of +God's household called to so high an employment. It was then, too, that +other business of the house was done, and the seal affixed to any +necessary documents. Christopher had an opportunity once of examining +this seal when it had been given him to clean, and he looked with awe on +the figures of his four new patrons, St. Peter, St. Pancras, St. Paul +and Our Lady, set in niches above a cliff with the running water of the +Ouse beneath, and read the petition that ran round the circle-- + +"_Dulcis agonista tibi convertit domus ista Pancrati memorum precibus +memor esto tuorum._" + +When the chapter was over, and the deaths of any brethren of the order +had been announced, and their souls prayed for, there was a pause for +recreation in the cloister and the finishing of further business before +they assembled again in time to go into church for the high mass, at +which the work and prayers of the day were gathered up and consecrated +in a supreme offering. Even the dinner that followed was a religious +ceremony; it began by a salutation of the Christ in glory that was on +the wall over the Prior's table, and then a long grace was sung before +they took their seats. The reader in the stone-pulpit on the south wall +of the refectory began his business on the sounding of a bell; and at a +second stroke there was a hum and clash of dishes from the kitchen end, +and the aproned servers entered in line bearing the dishes. Immediately +the meal was begun the drink destined for the poor at the gate was set +aside, and a little later a representative of them was brought into the +refectory to receive his portion; at the close again what was left over +was collected for charity; while the community after singing part of the +grace after meat went to finish it in the church. + +Chris learned to love the quiet religious graciousness of the refectory. +The taking of food here was a consecrated action; it seemed a +sacramental thing. He loved the restraint and preciseness of it, ensured +by the solemn crucifix over the door with its pathetic inscription +"SITIO," the polished oak tables, solid and narrow, the shining pewter +dishes, the folded napkins, the cleanly-served plentiful food, to each +man his portion, the indescribable dignity of the prior's little table, +the bowing of the servers before it, the mellow grace ringing out in its +monotone that broke into minor thirds and octaves of melody, like a +grave line of woodwork on the panelling bursting into a stiff leaf or +two at its ends. There was a strange and wonderful romance it about on +early autumn evenings as the light died out behind the stained windows +and the reader's face glowed homely and strong between his two candles +on the pulpit. And surely these tales of saints, the extract from the +Rule, these portions of Scripture sung with long pauses and on a +monotone for fear that the reader's personality should obscure the +message of what he read--surely this was a better accompaniment to the +taking of food, in itself so gross a thing, than the feverish chatter of +a secular hall and the bustling and officiousness of paid servants. + +After a general washing of hands the monks dispersed to their work, and +the novices to bowls or other games; the Prior first distributing the +garden instruments, and then beginning the labour with a commendation of +it to God; and after finishing the manual work and a short time of +study, they re-assembled in the cloister to go to Vespers. This, like +the high mass, was performed with the ceremonial proper to the day, and +was followed by supper, at which the same kind of ceremonies were +observed as at dinner. When this was over, after a further short +interval the evening reading or Collation took place in the +chapter-house, after which the monks were at liberty to go and warm +themselves at the one great fire kept up for the purpose in the +calefactory; and then compline was sung, followed by Our Lady's Anthem. + +This for Chris was one of the climaxes of the day's emotions. He was +always tired out by now with the day's work, and longing for bed, and +this approach to the great Mother of Monks soothed and quieted him. It +was sung in almost complete darkness, except for a light or two in the +long nave where a dark figure or two would be kneeling, and the pleasant +familiar melody, accompanied softly by the organ overhead after the bare +singing of Compline, seemed like a kind of good-night kiss. The +infinite pathos of the words never failed to touch him, the cry of the +banished children of Eve, weeping and mourning in this vale of tears to +Mary whose obedience had restored what Eve's self-will had ruined, and +the last threefold sob of endearment to the "kindly, loving, sweet, +Virgin Mary." After the high agonisings and aspirations of the day's +prayer, the awfulness of the holy Sacrifice, the tramping monotony of +the Psalter, the sting of the discipline, the aches and sweats of the +manual labour, the intent strain of the illuminating, this song to Mary +was a running into Mother's arms and finding compensation there for all +toils and burdens. + +Finally in complete silence the monks passed along the dark cloister, +sprinkled with holy water as they left the church, up to the dormitory +which ran over the whole length of the chapter house, the bridges and +other offices, to sleep till midnight. + + * * * * * + +The effect of this life, unbroken by external distractions, was to make +Chris's soul alert and perceptive to the inner world, and careless or +even contemptuous of the ordinary world of men. This spiritual realm +began for the first time to disclose its details to him, and to show +itself to some extent a replica of nature. It too had its varying +climate, its long summer of warmth and light, its winter of dark +discontent, its strange and bewildering sunrises of Christ upon the +soul, when He rose and went about His garden with perfume and music, or +stayed and greeted His creature with the message of His eyes. Chris +began to learn that these spiritual changes were in a sense independent +of him, that they were not in his soul, but rather that his soul was in +them. He could be happy and content when the winds of God were cold and +His light darkened, or sad and comfortless when the flowers of grace +were apparent and the river of life bright and shining. + +And meanwhile the ordinary world went on, but far away and dimly heard +and seen; as when one looks down from a castle-garden on to humming +streets five hundred feet below; and the old life at Overfield, and +Ralph's doings in London seemed unreal and fantastic activities, +purposeless and empty. + +Little by little, however, as the point of view shifted, Chris began to +find that the external world could not be banished, and that the +annoyances from the clash of characters discordant with his own were as +positive as those which had distressed him before. Dom Anselm Bowden's +way of walking and the patch of grease at the shoulder of his cowl, +never removed, and visible as he went before him into the church was as +distractingly irritating as Ralph's contempt; the buzz in the voice of a +cantor who seemed always to sing on great days was as distressing as his +own dog's perversity at Overfield, or the snapping of a bow-string. + +When _accidie_ fell upon Chris it seemed as if this particular house was +entirely ruined by such incidents; the Prior was finickin, the +junior-master tyrannical, the paints for illumination inferior in +quality, the straw of his bed peculiarly sharp, the chapter-house +unnecessarily draughty. And until he learnt from his confessor that this +spiritual ailment was a perfectly familiar one, and that its symptoms +and effects had been diagnosed centuries before, and had taken him at +his word and practised the remedies he enjoined, Chris suffered +considerably from discontent and despair alternately. At times others +were intolerable, at times he was intolerable to himself, reproaching +himself for having attempted so high a life, criticising his fellows +for so lowering it to a poor standard. + + * * * * * + +The first time that he was accused in chapter of a fault against the +Rule was a very great and shocking humiliation. + +He had accused himself as usual on his knees of his own remissions, of +making an unnecessarily loud noise in drinking, of intoning a wrong +antiphon as cantor, of spilling crumbs in the refectory; and then leaned +back on his heels well content with the insignificance of his list, to +listen with a discreet complacency to old Dom Adrian, who had overslept +himself once, spilled his beer twice, criticised his superior, and +talked aloud to himself four times during the Greater Silence, and who +now mumbled out his crimes hastily and unconcernedly. + +When the self-accusations were done, the others began, and to his horror +Chris heard his own name spoken. + +"I accuse Dom Christopher Torridon of not keeping the guard of the eyes +at Terce this morning." + +It was perfectly true; Chris had been so much absorbed in noticing an +effect of shade thrown by a corbel, and in plans for incorporating it +into his illumination that he had let a verse pass as far as the star +that marked the pause. He felt his heart leap with resentment. Then a +flash of retort came to him, and he waited his turn. + +"I accuse Dom Bernard Parr of not keeping the guard of the eyes at Terce +this morning. He was observing me." + +Just the faintest ripple passed round the line; and then the Prior spoke +with a tinge of sharpness, inflicting the penances, and giving Chris a +heavy sentence of twenty strokes with the discipline. + +When Chris's turn came he threw back his habit petulantly, and +administered his own punishment as the custom was, with angry fervour. + +As he was going out the Prior made him a sign, and took him through into +his own cell. + +"Counter-accusations are contrary to the Rule," he said. "It must not +happen again," and dismissed him sternly. + +And then Chris for a couple of days had a fierce struggle against +uncharitableness, asking himself whether he had not eyed Dom Bernard +with resentment, and then eyeing him again. It seemed too as if a fiend +suggested bitter sentences of reproach, that he rehearsed to himself, +and then repented. But on the third morning there came one of those +strange breezes of grace that he was beginning to experience more and +more frequently, and his sore soul grew warm and peaceful again. + + * * * * * + +It was in those kinds of temptation now that he found his warfare to +lie; internal assaults so fierce that it was terribly difficult to know +whether he had yielded or not, sudden images of pride and anger and lust +that presented themselves so vividly and attractively that it seemed he +must have willed them; it was not often that he was tempted to sin in +word or deed--such, when they came, rushed on him suddenly; but in the +realm of thought and imagination and motive he would often find himself, +as it were, entering a swarm of such things, that hovered round him, +impeding his prayer, blinding his insight, and seeking to sting the very +heart of his spiritual life. Then once more he would fight himself free +by despising and rejecting them, or would emerge without conscious will +of his own into clearness and serenity. + +But as he looked back he regretted nothing. It was true that the +warfare was more subtle and internal, but it was more honourable too; +for to conquer a motive or tame an imagination was at once more arduous +and more far-reaching in its effects than a victory in merely outward +matters, and he seldom failed to thank God half-a-dozen times a day for +having given him the vocation of a monk. + +There was one danger, however, that he did not realise, and his +confessor failed to point it out to him; and that was the danger of the +wrong kind of detachment. As has been already seen the theory of the +Religious Life was that men sought it not merely for the salvation of +their own souls, but for that of the world. A monastery was a place +where in a special sense the spiritual commerce of the world was carried +on: as a workman's shed is the place deputed and used by the world for +the manufacture of certain articles. It was the manufactory of grace +where skilled persons were at work, busy at a task of prayer and +sacrament which was to be at other men's service. If the father of a +family had a piece of spiritual work to be done, he went to the +monastery and arranged for it, and paid a fee for the sustenance of +those he employed, as he might go to a merchant's to order a cargo and +settle for its delivery. + +Since this was so then, it was necessary that the spiritual workmen +should be in a certain touch with those for whom they worked. It was +true that they must be out of the world, undominated by its principles +and out of love with its spirit; but in another sense they must live in +its heart. To use another analogy they were as windmills, lifted up from +the earth into the high airs of grace, but their base must be on the +ground or their labour would be ill-spent. They must be mystically one +with the world that they had resigned. + +Chris forgot this; and laboured, and to a large extent succeeded, in +detaching himself wholly; and symptoms of this mistake showed themselves +in such things as tending to despise secular life, feeling impatient +with the poor to whom he had to minister, in sneering in his heart at +least at anxious fussy men who came to arrange for masses, at +troublesome women who haunted the sacristy door in a passion of +elaborateness, and at comfortable families who stamped into high mass +and filled a seat and a half, but who had yet their spiritual burdens +and their claims to honour. + +But he was to be brought rudely down to facts again. He was beginning to +forget that England was about him and stirring in her agony; and he was +reminded of it with some force in the winter after his profession. + + * * * * * + +He was going out to the gate-house one day on an errand from the +junior-master when he became aware of an unusual stir in the court. +There were a couple of palfreys there, and half-a-dozen mules behind, +whilst three or four strange monks with a servant or two stood at their +bridles. + +Chris stopped to consider, for he had no business with guests; and as he +hesitated the door of the guest-house opened, and two prelates came out +with Dom Anthony behind them--tall, stately men in monks' habits with +furred cloaks and crosses. Chris slipped back at once into the cloister +from which he had just come out, and watched them go past to the Prior's +lodging. + +They appeared at Vespers that afternoon again, sitting in the first +returned stalls near the Prior, and Chris recognised one of them as the +great Abbot of Colchester. He looked at him now and again during Vespers +with a reverential awe, for the Abbot was a great man, a spiritual peer +of immense influence and reputation, and watched that fatherly face, +his dignified bows and stately movements, and the great sapphire that +shone on his hand as he turned the leaves of his illuminated book. + +The two prelates were at supper, sitting on either side of the Prior on +the dais; and afterwards the monks were called earlier than usual from +recreation into the chapter-house. + +The Prior made them a little speech saying that the Abbot had something +to say to them, and then sat down; his troubled eyes ran over the faces +of his subjects, and his fingers twitched and fidgetted on his knees. + +The Abbot did not make them a long discourse; but told them briefly that +there was trouble coming; he spoke in veiled terms of the Act of +Supremacy, and the serious prayer that was needed; he said that a time +of testing was close at hand, and that every man must scrutinise his own +conscience and examine his motives; and that the unlearned had better +follow the advice and example of their superiors. + +It was all very vague and unsatisfactory; but Chris became aware of +three things. First, that the world was very much alive and could not be +dismissed by a pious aspiration or two; second, that the world was about +to make some demand that would have to be seriously dealt with, and +third, that there was nothing really to fear so long as their souls were +clean and courageous. The Abbot was a melting speaker, full at once of a +fatherly tenderness and vehemence, and as Chris looked at him he felt +that indeed there was nothing to fear so long as monks had such +representatives and protectors as these, and that the world had better +look to itself for fear it should dash itself to ruin against such rocks +of faith and holiness. + +But as the spring drew on, an air of suspense and anxiety made itself +evident in the house. News came down that More and Fisher were still in +prison, that the oath was being administered right and left, that the +King had thrown aside all restraints, and that the civil breach with +Rome seemed in no prospect of healing. As for the spiritual breach the +monks did not seriously consider it yet; they regarded themselves as +still in union with the Holy See whatever their rulers might say or do, +and only prayed for the time when things might be as before and there +should be no longer any doubt or hesitation in the minds of weak +brethren. + +But the Prior's face grew more white and troubled, and his temper +uncertain. + +Now and again he would make them speeches assuring them fiercely that +all was well, and that all they had to do was to be quiet and obedient; +and now he would give way to a kind of angry despair, tell them that all +was lost, that every man would have to save himself; and then for days +after such an exhibition he would be silent and morose, rapping his +fingers softly as he sat at his little raised table in the refectory, +walking with downcast eyes up and down the cloister muttering and +staring. + +Towards the end of April he sent abruptly for Chris, told him that he +had news from London that made his presence there necessary, and ordered +him to be ready to ride with him in a week or two. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE ARENA + + +It was in the evening of a warm May day that the Prior and Chris arrived +at the hostelry in Southwark, which belonged to Lewes Priory. + +It was on the south side of Kater Lane, opposite St. Olave's church, a +great house built of stone with arched gates, with a large porch opening +straight into the hall, which was high and vaulted with a frieze of +grotesque animals and foliage running round it. There were a few +servants there, and one or two friends of the Prior waiting at the porch +as they arrived; and one of them, a monk himself from the cell at +Farley, stepped up to the Prior's stirrup and whispered to him. + +Chris heard an exclamation and a sharp indrawing of breath, but was too +well trained to ask; so he too dismounted and followed the others into +the hall, leaving his beast in the hands of a servant. + +The Prior was already standing by the monk at the upper end, questioning +him closely, and glancing nervously this way and that. + +"To-day?" he asked sharply, and looked at the other horrified. + +The monk nodded, pale-faced and anxious, his lower lip sucked in. + +The Prior turned to Chris. + +"They have suffered to-day," he said. + +News had reached Lewes nearly a week before that the Carthusians had +been condemned, for refusing to acknowledge the King as head of the +English Church, but it had been scarcely possible to believe that the +sentence would be carried out, and Chris felt the blood beat in his +temples and his lips turn suddenly dry as he heard the news. + +"I was there, my Lord Prior," said the monk. + +He was a middle-aged man, genial and plump, but his face was white and +anxious now, and his mouth worked. "They were hanged in their habits," +he went on. "Prior Houghton was the first despatched;" and he added a +terrible detail or two. + +"Will you see the place, my Lord Prior?" he said, "You can ride there. +Your palfrey is still at the door." + +Prior Robert Crowham looked at him a moment with pursed lips; and then +shook his head violently. + +"No, no," he said. "I--I must see to the house." The monk looked at +Chris. + +"May I go, my Lord Prior?" he asked. + +The Prior stared at him a moment, in a desperate effort to fix his +attention; then nodded sharply and wheeled round to the door that led to +the upper rooms. + +"Mother of God!" he said. "Mother of God!" and went out. + +Chris went through with the strange priest, down the hall and out into +the porch again. The others were standing there, fearful and whispering, +and opened out to let the two monks pass through. + +Chris had been tired and hot when he arrived, but he was conscious now +of no sensation but of an overmastering desire to see the place; he +passed straight by his horse that still stood with a servant at his +head, and turned up instinctively toward the river. + +The monk called after him. + +"There, there," he cried, "not so fast--we have plenty of time." + +They took a wherry at the stairs and pushed out with the stream. The +waterman was a merry-looking man who spoke no word but whistled to +himself cheerfully as he laid himself to the oars, and the boat began to +move slantingly across the flowing tide. He looked at the monks now and +again; but Chris was seated, staring out with eyes that saw nothing down +the broad stream away to where the cathedral rose gigantic and graceful +on the other side. It was the first time he had been in London since a +couple of years before his profession, but the splendour and strength of +the city was nothing to him now. It only had one significance to his +mind, and that that it had been this day the scene of a martyrdom. His +mind that had so long lived in the inner world, moving among +supernatural things, was struggling desperately to adjust itself. + +Once or twice his lips moved, and his hands clenched themselves under +his scapular; but he saw and heard nothing; and did not even turn his +head when a barge swept past them, and a richly dressed man leaned from +the stern and shouted something mockingly. The other monk looked +nervously and deprecatingly up, for he heard the taunting threat across +the water that the Carthusians were a good riddance, and that there +would be more to follow. + +They landed at the Blackfriars stairs, paid the man, who was still +whistling as he took the money, and passed up by the little stream that +flowed into the river, striking off to the left presently, and leaving +the city behind them. They were soon out again on the long straight road +that led to Tyburn, for Chris walked desperately fast, paying little +heed to his companion except at the corners when he had to wait to know +the way; and presently Tyburn-gate began to raise its head high against +the sky. + +Once the strange monk, whose name Chris had not even troubled to ask, +plucked him by his hanging sleeve. + +"The hurdles came along here," he said; and Chris looked at him vacantly +as if he did not understand. + +Then they were under Tyburn-gate, and the clump of elms stood before +them. + + * * * * * + +It was a wide open space, dusty now and trampled. + +What grass there had been in patches by the two little streams that +flowed together here, was crushed and flat under foot. The elms cast +long shadows from the west, and birds were chirping in the branches; +there was a group or two of people here and there looking curiously +about them. A man's voice came across the open space, explaining; and +his arm rose and wheeled and pointed and paused--three or four children +hung together, frightened and interested. + +But Chris saw little of all this. He had no eyes for the passing +details; they were fixed on the low mound that rose fifty yards away, +and the three tall posts, placed in a triangle and united by +cross-beams, that stood on it, gaunt against the sky. + +As he came nearer to it, walking as one in a dream across the dusty +ground and trampled grass, and paying no heed to the priest behind him +who whispered with an angry nervousness, he was aware of the ends of +three or four ropes that hung motionless from the beams in the still +evening air; and with his eyes fixed on these in exaltation and terror +he stumbled up the sloping ground and came beneath them. + +There was a great peace round him as he stood there, stroking one of +the uprights with a kind of mechanical tenderness; the men were silent +as they saw the two monks there, and watched to see what they would do. + +The towers of Tyburn-gate rose a hundred yards away, empty now, but +crowded this morning; and behind them the long road with the fields and +great mansions on this side and that, leading down to the city in front +and Westminster on the right, those two dens of the tiger that had +snarled so fiercely a few hours before, as she licked her lips red with +martyrs' blood. It was indescribably peaceful now; there was no sound +but the birds overhead, and the soft breeze in the young leaves, and the +trickle of the streams defiled to-day, but running clean and guiltless +now; and the level sunlight lay across the wide flat ground and threw +the shadow of the mound and gallows nearly to the foot of the gate. + +But to Chris the place was alive with phantoms; the empty space had +vanished, and a sea of faces seemed turned up to him; he fancied that +there were figures about him, watching him too, brushing his sleeve, +faces looking into his eyes, waiting for some action or word from him. +For a moment his sense of identity was lost; the violence of the +associations, and perhaps even the power of the emotions that had been +wrought there that day, crushed out his personality; it was surely he +who was here to suffer; all else was a dream and an illusion. From his +very effort of living in eternity, a habit had been formed that now +asserted itself; the laws of time and space and circumstance for the +moment ceased to exist; and he found himself for an eternal instant +facing his own agony and death. + + * * * * * + +Then with a rush facts re-asserted themselves, and he started and +looked round as the monk touched him on the arm. + +"You have seen it," he said in a sharp undertone, "it is enough. We +shall be attacked." Chris paid him no heed beyond a look, and turned +once more. + +It was here that they had suffered, these gallant knights of God; they +had stood below these beams, their feet on the cart that was their +chariot of glory, their necks in the rope that would be their heavenly +badge; they had looked out where he was looking as they made their +little speeches, over the faces to Tyburn-gate, with the same sun that +was now behind him, shining into their eyes. + +He still stroked the rough beam; and as the details came home, and he +remembered that it was this that had borne their weight, he leaned and +kissed it; and a flood of tears blinded him. + +Again the priest pulled his sleeve sharply. + +"For God's sake, brother!" he said. + +Chris turned to him. + +"The cauldron," he said; "where was that?" + +The priest made an impatient movement, but pointed to one side, away +from where the men were standing still watching them; and Chris saw +below, by the side of one of the streams a great blackened patch of +ground, and a heap of ashes. + +The two went down there, for the other monk was thankful to get to any +less conspicuous place; and Chris presently found himself standing on +the edge of the black patch, with the trampled mud and grass beyond it +beside the stream. The grey wood ashes had drifted by now far across the +ground, but the heavy logs still lay there, charred and smoked, that had +blazed beneath the cauldron where the limbs of the monks had been +seethed; and he stared down at them, numbed and fascinated by the +horror of the thought. His mind, now in a violent reaction, seemed +unable to cope with its own knowledge, crushed beneath its weight; and +his friend heard him repeating with a low monotonous insistence-- + +"Here it was," he said, "here; here was the cauldron; it was here." + +Then he turned and looked into his friend's eyes. + +"It was here," he said; "are you sure it was here?" + +The other made an impatient sound. + +"Where else?" he said sharply. "Come, brother, you have seen enough." + + * * * * * + +He told him more details as they walked home; as to what each had said, +and how each had borne himself. Father Reynolds, the Syon monk, had +looked gaily about him, it seemed, as he walked up from the hurdle; the +secular priest had turned pale and shut his eyes more than once; the +three Carthusian priors had been unmoved throughout, showing neither +carelessness nor fear; Prior Houghton's arm had been taken off to the +London Charterhouse as a terror to the others; their heads, he had +heard, were on London Bridge. + +Chris walked slowly as he listened, holding tight under his scapular the +scrap of rough white cloth he had picked up near the cauldron, drinking +in every detail, and painting it into the mental picture that was +forming in his mind; but there was much more in the picture than the +other guessed. + +The priest was a plain man, with a talent for the practical, and knew +nothing of the vision that the young monk beside him was seeing--of the +air about the gallows crowded with the angels of the Agony and Passion, +waiting to bear off the straggling souls in their tender experienced +hands; of the celestial faces looking down, the scarred and glorious +arms stretched out in welcome; of Mary with her mother's eyes, and her +virgins about her--all ring above ring in deepening splendour up to the +white blinding light above, where the Everlasting Trinity lay poised in +love and glory to receive and crown the stalwart soldiers of God. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A CLOSING-IN + + +Ralph kept his resolution to pretend to try and save Sir Thomas More, +and salved his own conscience by protesting to Beatrice that his efforts +were bound to fail, and that he had no influence such as she imagined. +He did certainly more than once remark to Cromwell that Sir Thomas was a +pleasant and learned man, and had treated him kindly, and once had gone +so far as to say that he did not see that any good would be served by +his death; but he had been sharply rebuked, and told to mind his own +business; then, softening, Cromwell had explained that there was no +question of death for the present; but that More's persistent refusal to +yield to the pressure of events was a standing peril to the King's +policy. + +This policy had now shaped itself more clearly. In the autumn of '34 the +bill for the King's supremacy over the Church of England began to take +form; and Ralph had several sights of the documents as all business of +this kind now flowed through Cromwell's hands, and he was filled with +admiration and at the same time with perplexity at the adroitness of the +wording. It was very short, and affected to assume rather than to enact +its object. + +"Albeit the King's Majesty justly and rightfully is and ought to be," it +began, "the supreme head of the Church of England, and so is recognised +by the clergy of this realm in their Convocations, yet, nevertheless, +for corroboration and confirmation thereof ... and to repress and extirp +all errors, heresies and other enormities ... be it enacted by authority +of this present Parliament that the King our sovereign lord ... shall be +taken, accepted, and reputed the only supreme head in earth of the +Church of England, called _Anglicans Ecclesia_." The bill then proceeded +to confer on him a plenitude of authority over both temporal and +spiritual causes. + +There was here considerable skill in the manner of its drawing up, which +it owed chiefly to Cromwell; for it professed only to re-state a matter +that had slipped out of notice, and appealed to the authority of +Convocation which had, truly, under Warham allowed a resolution to the +same effect, though qualified by the clause, "as far as God's law +permits," to pass in silence. + +Ralph was puzzled by it: he was led to believe that it could contain no +very radical change from the old belief, since the clergy had in a sense +already submitted to it; and, on the other hand, the word "the only +supreme head in earth" seemed not only to assert the Crown's civil +authority over the temporalities of the Church, but to exclude +definitely all jurisdiction on the part of the Pope. + +"It is the assertion of a principle," Cromwell said to him when he asked +one day for an explanation; "a principle that has always been held in +England; it is not intended to be precise or detailed: that will follow +later." + +Ralph was no theologian, and did not greatly care what the bill did or +did not involve. He was, too, in that temper of inchoate agnosticism +that was sweeping England at the time, and any scruples that he had in +his more superstitious moments were lulled by the knowledge that the +clergy had acquiesced. What appeared more important to him than any +hair-splittings on the exact provinces of the various authorities in +question, was the necessity of some step towards the crippling of the +spiritual empire whose hands were so heavy, and whose demands so +imperious. He felt, as an Englishman, resentful of the leading strings +in which, so it seemed to him, Rome wished to fetter his country. + +The bill passed through parliament on November the eighteenth. + + * * * * * + +Ralph lost no opportunity of impressing upon Beatrice how much he had +risked for the sake of her friend in the Tower, and drew very moving +sketches of his own peril. + +The two were sitting together in the hall at Chelsea one winters evening +soon after Christmas. The high panelling was relieved by lines of +greenery, with red berries here and there; a bunch of mistletoe leaned +forward over the sloping mantelpiece, and there was an acrid smell of +holly and laurel in the air. It was a little piteous, Ralph thought, +under the circumstances. + +Another stage had been passed in More's journey towards death, in the +previous month, when he had been attainted of misprision of treason by +an act designed to make good the illegality of his former conviction, +and the end was beginning to loom clear. + +"I said it would be no use, Mistress Beatrice, and it is none--Master +Cromwell will not hear a word." + +Beatrice looked up at Ralph, and down again, as her manner was. Her +hands were lying on her lap perfectly still as she sat upright in her +tall chair. + +"You have done what you could, I know," she said, softly. + +"Master Cromwell did not take it very well," went on Ralph with an +appearance of resolute composure, "but that was to be expected." + +Again she looked up, and Ralph once more was seized with the desire to +precipitate matters and tell her what was in his heart, but he repressed +it, knowing it was useless to speak yet. + +It was a very stately and slow wooing, like the movement of a minuet; +each postured to each, not from any insincerity, except perhaps a little +now and then on Ralph's side, but because for both it was a natural mode +of self-expression. It was an age of dignity abruptly broken here and +there by violence. There were slow and gorgeous pageants followed by +brutal and bestial scenes, like the life of a peacock who paces +composedly in the sun and then scuttles and screams in the evening. But +with these two at present there was no occasion for abruptness, and +Ralph, at any rate, contemplated with complacency his own graciousness +and grandeur, and the skilfully posed tableaux in which he took such a +sedate part. + +As the spring drew on and the crocuses began to star the grass along the +river and the sun to wheel wider and wider, the chill and the darkness +began to fall more heavily on the household at Chelsea. They were +growing very poor by now; most of Sir Thomas's possessions elsewhere had +been confiscated by the King, though by his clemency Chelsea was still +left to Mrs. Alice for the present; and one by one the precious things +began to disappear from the house as they were sold to obtain +necessaries. All the private fortune of Mrs. More had gone by the end of +the winter, and her son still owed great sums to the Government on +behalf of his father. + +At the beginning of May she told Ralph that she was making another +appeal to Cromwell for help, and begged him to forward her petition. + +"My silks are all gone," she said, "and the little gold chain and cross +that you may remember, Mr. Torridon, went last month, too--I cannot tell +what we shall do. Mr. More is so obstinate"--and her eyes filled with +tears--"and we have to pay fifteen shillings every week for him and John +a' Wood." + +She looked so helpless and feeble as she sat in the window seat, +stripped now of its tapestry cushions, with the roofs of the New +Building rising among its trees at the back, where her husband had +walked a year ago with such delight, that Ralph felt a touch of +compunction, and promised to do his best. + +He said a word to Cromwell that evening as he supped with him at +Hackney, and his master looked at him curiously, sitting forward in the +carved chair he had had from Wolsey, in his satin gown, twisting the +stem of his German glass in his ringed fingers. + +"And what do you wish me to do, sir?" he asked Ralph with a kind of +pungent irony. + +Ralph explained that he scarcely knew himself; perhaps a word to his +Grace-- + +"I will tell you what it is, Mr. Torridon," broke in his master, "you +have made another mistake. I did not intend you to be their friend, but +to seem so." + +"I can scarcely seem so," said Ralph quietly, but with a certain +indignation at his heart, "unless I do them little favours sometimes." + +"You need not seem so any longer," said Cromwell drily, "the time is +past." + +And he set his glass down and sat back. + +Yet Ralph's respect and admiration for his master became no less. He had +the attractiveness of extreme and unscrupulous capability. It gave Ralph +the same joy to watch him as he found in looking on at an expert fencer; +he was so adroit and strong and ready; mighty and patient in defence, +watchful for opportunities of attack and merciless when they came. His +admirers scarcely gave a thought to the piteousness of the adversary; +they were absorbed in the scheme and proud to be included in it; and men +of heart and sensibility were as hard as their master when they carried +out his plans. + + * * * * * + +The fate of the Carthusians would have touched Ralph if he had been a +mere onlooker, as it touched so many others, but he had to play his part +in the tragedy, and was astonished at the quick perceptions of Cromwell +and his determined brutality towards these peaceful contemplatives whom +he recognised as a danger-centre against the King's policy. + +He was present first in Cromwell's house when the three Carthusian +priors of Beauvale, Axholme and London called upon him of their own +accord to put their questions on the meaning of the King's supremacy: +but their first question, as to how was it possible for a layman to hold +the keys of the kingdom of heaven was enough, and without any further +evidence they were sent to the Tower. + +Then, again, he was present in the Court of the Rolls a few days later +when Dom Laurence, of Beauvale, and Dom Webster, of Axholme, were +examined once more. There were seven or eight others present, laymen and +ecclesiastics, and the priors were once more sent back to the Tower. + +And so examination after examination went on, and no answer could be got +out of the monks, but that they could never reconcile it with their +conscience to accept the King to be what the Act of Supremacy declared +that he was. + +Ralph's curiosity took him down to the Charterhouse one day shortly +before the execution of the priors; he had with him an order from +Cromwell that carried him everywhere he wished to go; but he did not +penetrate too deeply. He was astonished at the impression that the place +made on him. + +As he passed up the Great Cloister there was no sound but from a bird or +two singing in the afternoon sunlight of the garth; each cell-door, with +its hatch for the passage of food, was closed and silent; and Ralph felt +a curious quickening of his heart as he thought of the human life passed +in the little houses, each with its tiny garden, its workshop, its two +rooms, and its paved ambulatory, in which each solitary lived. How +strangely apart this place was from the buzz of business from which he +had come! And yet he knew very well that the whole was as good as +condemned already. + +He wondered to himself how they had taken the news of the tragedy that +was beginning--those white, demure men with shaved heads and faces, and +downcast eyes. He reflected what the effect of that news must be; as it +penetrated each day, like a stone dropped softly into a pool, leaving no +ripple. There, behind each brown door, he fancied to himself, a strange +alchemy was proceeding, in which each new terror and threat from outside +was received into the crucible of a beating heart and transmuted by +prayer and welcome into some wonderful jewel of glory--at least so these +poor men believed; and Ralph indignantly told himself it was nonsense; +they were idlers and dreamers. He reminded himself of a sneer he had +heard against the barrels of Spanish wine that were taken in week by +week at the monastery door; if these men ate no flesh too, at least they +had excellent omelettes. + +But as he passed at last through the lay-brothers' choir and stood +looking through the gates of the Fathers' choir up to the rich altar +with its hangings and its posts on either side crowned with gilded +angels bearing candles, to the splendid window overhead, against which, +as in a glory, hung the motionless silk-draped pyx, the awe fell on him +again. + +This was the place where they met, these strange, silent men; every +panel and stone was saturated with the prayers of experts, offered three +times a day--in the night-office of two or three hours when the world +was asleep; at the chapter-mass; and at Vespers in the afternoon. + +His heart again stirred a little, superstitiously he angrily told +himself, at the memory of the stories that were whispered about in town. + +Two years ago, men said, a comet had been seen shining over the house. +As the monks went back from matins, each with his lantern in his hand, +along the dark cloister, a ray had shot out from the comet, had glowed +upon the church and bell-tower, and died again into darkness. Again, a +little later, two monks, one in his cell-garden and the other in the +cemetery, had seen a blood-red globe, high and menacing, hanging in the +air over the house. + +Lastly, at Pentecost, at the mass of the Holy Ghost, offered at the end +of a triduum with the intention of winning grace to meet any sacrifice +that might be demanded, not one nor two, but the whole community, +including the lay-brothers outside the Fathers' Choir, had perceived a +soft whisper of music of inexpressible sweetness that came and went +overhead at the Elevation. The celebrant bowed forward in silence over +the altar, unable to continue the mass, the monks remained petrified +with joy and awe in their stalls. + +Ralph stared once more at the altar as he remembered this tale; at the +row of stalls on either side, the dark roof overhead, the glowing glass +on either side and in front--and asked himself whether it was true, +whether God had spoken, whether a chink of the heavenly gate had been +opened here to let the music escape. + +It was not true, he told himself; it was the dream of a man mad with +sleeplessness, foolish with fasting and discipline and vigils: one had +dreamed it and babbled of it to the rest and none had liked to be less +spiritual or perceptive of divine manifestations. + +A brown figure was by the altar now to light the candles for Vespers; a +taper was in his hand, and the spot of light at the end moved like a +star against the gilding and carving. Ralph turned and went out. + +Then on the fourth of May he was present at the execution of the three +priors and the two other priests at Tyburn. There was an immense crowd +there, nearly the whole Court being present; and it was reported here +and there afterwards that the King himself was there in a group of five +horsemen, who came in the accoutrements of Borderers, vizored and armed, +and took up their position close to the scaffold. There fell a terrible +silence as the monks were dragged up on the hurdles, in their habits, +all three together behind one horse. They were cut down almost at once, +and the butchery was performed on them while they were still alive. + +Ralph went home in a glow of resolution against them. A tragedy such as +that which he had seen was of necessity a violent motive one way or the +other, and it found him determined that the sufferers were in the wrong, +and left him confirmed in his determination. Their very passivity +enraged him. + +Meanwhile, he had of course heard nothing of his brother's presence in +London, and it was with something of a shock that on the next afternoon +he heard the news from Mr. Morris that Mr. Christopher was below and +waiting for him in the parlour. + +As he went down he wondered what Chris was doing in London, and what he +himself could say to him. He was expecting Beatrice, too, to call upon +him presently with her maid to give him a message and a bundle of +letters which he had promised to convey to Sir Thomas More. But he was +determined to be kind to his brother. + +Chris was standing in his black monk's habit on the other side of the +walnut table, beside the fire-place, and made no movement as Ralph came +forward smiling and composed. His face was thinner than his brother +remembered it, clean-shaven now, with hollows in the checks, and his +eyes were strangely light. + +"Why, Chris!" said Ralph, and stopped, astonished at the other's +motionlessness. + +Then Chris came round the table with a couple of swift steps, his hands +raised a little from the wide, drooping sleeves. + +"Ah! brother," he said, "I have come to bring you away: this is a wicked +place." + +Ralph was so amazed that he fell back a step. + +"Are you mad?" he said coldly enough, but he felt a twitch of +superstitious fear at his heart. + +Chris seized the rich silk sleeve in both his hands, and Ralph felt them +trembling and nervous. + +"You must come away," he said, "for Jesu's sake, brother! You must not +lose your soul." + +Ralph felt the old contempt surge up and drown his fear. The familiarity +of his brother's presence weighed down the religious suggestion of his +habit and office. This is what he had feared and almost expected;--that +the cloister would make a fanatic of this fantastic brother of his. + +He glanced round at the door that he had left open, but the house was +silent. Then he turned again. + +"Sit down, Chris," he said, with a strong effort at self-command, and he +pulled his sleeve away, went back and shut the door, and then came +forward past where his brother was standing, to the chair that stood +with its back to the window. + +"You must not be fond and wild," he said decidedly. "Sit down, Chris." + +The monk came past him to the other side of the hearth, and faced him +again, but did not sit down. He remained standing by the fire-place, +looking down at Ralph, who was in his chair with crossed legs. + +"What is this folly?" said Ralph again. + +Chris stared down at him a moment in silence. + +"Why, why--" he began, and ceased. + +Ralph felt himself the master of the situation, and determined to be +paternal. + +"My dear lad," he said, "you have dreamed yourself mad at Lewes. When +did you come to London?" + +"Yesterday," said Chris, still with that strange stare. + +"Why, then--" began Ralph. + +"Yes--you think I was too late, but I saw it," said Chris; "I was there +in the evening and saw it all again." + +All his nervous tension seemed relaxed by the warm common-sense +atmosphere of this trim little room, and his brother's composure. His +lips were beginning to tremble, and he half turned and gripped the +mantel-shelf with his right hand. Ralph noticed with a kind of +contemptuous pity how the heavy girded folds of the frock seemed to +contain nothing, and that the wrist from which the sleeve had fallen +back was slender as a reed. Ralph felt himself so infinitely his +brother's superior that he could afford to be generous and kindly. + +"Dear Chris," he said, smiling, "you look starved and miserable. Shall I +tell Morris to bring you something? I thought you monks fared better +than that." + +In a moment Chris was on his knees on the rushes; his hands gripped his +brother's arms, and his wild eyes were staring up with a fanatical fire +of entreaty in them. His words broke out like a torrent. + +"Ralph," he said, "dear brother! for Jesu's sake, come away! I have +heard everything. I know that these streets are red with blood, and that +your hands have been dipped in it. You must not lose your soul. I know +everything; you must come away. For Jesu's sake!" + +Ralph tore himself free and stood up, pushing back his chair. + +"Godbody!" he said, "I have a fool for a brother. Stand up, sir. I will +have no mumming in my house." + +He rapped his foot fiercely on the floor, staring down at Chris who had +thrown himself back on his heels. + +"Stand up, sir," he said again. + +"Will you hear me, brother?" + +Ralph hesitated. + +"I will hear you if you will talk reason. I think you are mad." + +Chris got up again. He was trembling violently, and his hands twitched +and clenched by his sides. + +"Then you shall hear me," he said, and his voice shook as he spoke. "It +is this--" + +"You must sit down," interrupted Ralph, and he pointed to the chair +behind. + +Chris went to it and sat down. Ralph took a step across to the door and +opened it. + +"Morris," he called, and came back to his chair. + +There was silence a moment or two, till the servant's step sounded in +the hall, and the door opened. Mr. Morris's discreet face looked +steadily and composedly at his master. + +"Bring the pasty," said Ralph, "and the wine." + +He gave the servant a sharp look, seemed to glance out across the hall +for a moment and back again. There was no answering look on Mr. Morris's +face, but he slipped out softly, leaving the door just ajar. + +Then Ralph turned to Chris again. + +Chris had had time to recover himself by now, and was sitting very pale +and composed after his dramatic outburst, his hands hidden under his +scapular, and his fingers gripped together. + +"Now tell me," said Ralph, with his former kindly contempt. He had begun +to understand now what his brother had come about, and was determined to +be at once fatherly and decisive. This young fool must be taught his +place. + +"It is this," said Chris, still in a trembling voice, but it grew +steadier as he went on. "God's people are being persecuted--there is no +longer any doubt. They were saints who died yesterday, and Master +Cromwell is behind it all; and--and you serve him." + +Ralph jerked his head to speak, but his brother went on. + +"I know you think me a fool, and I daresay you are right. But this I +know, I would sooner be a fool than--than--" + +--"than a knave" ended Ralph. "I thank you for your good opinion, my +brother. However, let that pass. You have come to teach me my business, +then?" + +"I have come to save your soul," said Chris, grasping the arms of his +chair, and eyeing him steadily. + +"You are very good to me," said Ralph bitterly. "Now, I do not want any +more play-acting--" He broke off suddenly as the door opened. "And here +is the food. Chris, you are not yourself"--he gave a swift look at his +servant again--"and I suppose you have had no food to-day." + +Again he glanced out through the open door as Mr. Morris turned to go. + +Chris paid no sort of attention to the food. He seemed not to have seen +the servant's entrance and departure. + +"I tell you," he said again steadily, with his wide bright eyes fixed on +his brother, "I tell you, you are persecuting God's people, and I am +come, not as your brother only, but as a monk, to warn you." + +Ralph waved his hand, smiling, towards the dish and the bottle. It +seemed to sting Chris with a kind of fury, for his eyes blazed and his +mouth tightened as he stood up abruptly. + +"I tell you that if I were starving I would not break bread in this +house: it is the house of God's enemy." + +He dashed out his left hand nervously, and struck the bottle spinning +across the table; it crashed over on to the floor, and the red wine +poured on to the boards. + +"Why, there is blood before your eyes," he screamed, mad with hunger and +sleeplessness, and the horrors he had seen; "the ground cries out." + +Ralph had sprung up as the bottle fell, and stood trembling and glaring +across at the monk; the door opened softly, and Mr. Morris stood alert +and discreet on the threshold, but neither saw him. + +"And if you were ten times my brother," cried Chris, "I would not touch +your hand." + +There came a knocking at the door, and the servant disappeared. + +"Let him come, if it be the King himself," shouted the monk, "and hear +the truth for once." + +The servant was pushed aside protesting, and Beatrice came straight +forward into the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A RECOVERY + + +There was a moment of intense silence, only emphasized by the settling +rustle of the girl's dress. The door had closed softly, and Mr. Morris +stood within, in the shadow by the window, ready to give help if it were +needed. Beatrice remained a yard inside the room, very upright and +dignified, a little pale, looking from one to the other of the two +brothers, who stared back at her as at a ghost. + +Ralph spoke first, swallowing once or twice in his throat before +speaking, and trying to smile. + +"It is you then," he said. + +Beatrice moved a step nearer, looking at Chris, who stood white and +tense, his eyes wide and burning. + +"Mr. Torridon," said Beatrice softly, "I have brought the bundle. My +woman has it." + +Still she looked, as she spoke, questioningly at Chris. + +"Oh! this is my brother, the monk," snapped Ralph bitterly, glancing at +him. "Indeed, he is." + +Then Chris lost his self-control again. + +"And this is my brother, the murderer; indeed, he is." + +Beatrice's lips parted, and her eyes winced. She put out her hand +hesitatingly towards Ralph, and dropped it again as he moved a little +towards her. + +"You hear him?" said Ralph. + +"I do not understand," said the girl, "your brother--" + +"Yes, I am his brother, God help me," snarled Chris. + +Beatrice's lips closed again, and a look of contempt came into her +face. + +"I have heard enough, Mr. Torridon. Will you come with me?" + +Chris moved forward a step. + +"I do not know who you are, madam," he said, "but do you understand what +this gentleman is? Do you know that he is a creature of Master +Cromwell's?" + +"I know everything," said Beatrice. + +"And you were at Tyburn, too?" questioned Chris bitterly, "perhaps with +this brother of mine?" + +Beatrice faced him defiantly. + +"What have you to say against him, sir?" + +Ralph made a movement to speak, but the girl checked him. + +"I wish to hear it. What have you to say?" + +"He is a creature of Cromwell's who plotted the death of God's saints. +This brother of mine was at the examinations, I hear, and at the +scaffold. Is that enough?" + +Chris had himself under control again by now, but his words seemed to +burn with vitriol. His lips writhed as he spoke. + +"Well?" said Beatrice. + +"Well, if that is not enough; how of More and my Lord of Rochester?" + +"He has been a good friend to Mr. More," said Beatrice, "that I know." + +"He will get him the martyr's crown, surely," sneered Chris. + +"And you have no more to say?" asked the girl quietly. + +A shudder ran over the monk's body; his mouth opened and closed, and the +fire in his eyes flared up and died; his clenched hands rose and fell. +Then he spoke quietly. + +"I have no more to say, madam." + +Beatrice moved across to Ralph, and put her hand on his arm, looking +steadily at Chris. Ralph laid his other hand on hers a moment, then +raised it, and made an abrupt motion towards the door. + +Chris went round the table; Mr. Morris opened the door with an impassive +face, and followed him out, leaving Beatrice and Ralph alone. + + * * * * * + +Chris had come back the previous evening from Tyburn distracted almost +to madness. He had sat heavily all the evening by himself, brooding and +miserable, and had not slept all night, but waking visions had moved +continually before his eyes, as he turned to and fro on his narrow bed +in the unfamiliar room. Again and again Tyburn was before him, peopled +with phantoms; he had seen the thick ropes, and heard their creaking, +and the murmur of the multitude; had smelt the pungent wood-smoke and +the thick drifting vapour from the cauldron. Once it seemed to him that +the very room was full of figures, white-clad and silent, who watched +him with impassive pale faces, remote and unconcerned. He had flung +himself on his knees again and again, had lashed himself with the +discipline that he, too, might taste of pain; but all the serenity of +divine things was gone. There was no heaven, no Saviour, no love. He was +bound down here, crushed and stifled in this apostate city whose sounds +and cries came up into his cell. He had lost the fiery vision of the +conqueror's welcome; it was like a tale heard long ago. Now he was +beaten down by physical facts, by the gross details of the tragedy, the +strangling, the blood, the smoke, the acrid smell of the crowd, and +heaven was darkened by the vapour. + +It was not until the next day, as he sat with the Prior and a stranger +or two, and heard the tale once more, and the predictions about More and +Fisher, that the significance of Ralph's position appeared to him +clearly. He knew no more than before, but he suddenly understood what he +knew. + +A monk had said a word of Cromwell's share in the matters, and the Prior +had glanced moodily at Chris for a moment, turning his eyes only as he +sat with his chin in his hand; and in a moment Chris understood. + +This was the work that his brother was doing. He sat now more distracted +than ever: mental pictures moved before him of strange council-rooms +with great men in silk on raised seats, and Ralph was among them. He +seemed to hear his bitter questions that pierced to the root of the +faith of the accused, and exposed it to the world, of their adherence to +the Vicar of Christ, their uncompromising convictions. + +He had sat through dinner with burning eyes, but the Prior noticed +nothing, for he himself was in a passion of absorption, and gave Chris a +hasty leave as he rose from table to go and see his brother if he +wished. + +Chris had walked up and down his room that afternoon, framing sentences +of appeal and pity and terror, but it was useless: he could not fix his +mind; and he had gone off at last to Westminster at once terrified for +Ralph's soul, and blazing with indignation against him. + +And now he was walking down to the river again, in the cool of the +evening, knowing that he had ruined his own cause and his right to speak +by his intemperate fury. + + * * * * * + +It was another strange evening that he passed in the Prior's chamber +after supper. The same monk, Dom Odo, who had taken him to Tyburn the +day before, was there again; and Chris sat in a corner, with the +reaction of his fury on him, spent and feverish, now rehearsing the +scene he had gone through with Ralph, and framing new sentences that he +might have used, now listening to the talk, and vaguely gathering its +meaning. + +It seemed that the tale of blood was only begun. + +Bedale, the Archdeacon of Cornwall, had gone that day to the +Charterhouse; he had been seen driving there, and getting out at the +door with a bundle of books under his arm, and he had passed in through +the gate over which Prior Houghton's arm had been hung on the previous +evening. It was expected that some more arrests would be made +immediately. + +"As for my Lord of Rochester," said the monk, who seemed to revel in the +business of bearing bad news, "and Master More, I make no doubt they +will be cast. They are utterly fixed in their opinions. I hear that my +lord is very sick, and I pray that God may take him to Himself. He is +made Cardinal in Rome, I hear; but his Grace has sworn that he shall +have no head to wear the hat upon." + +Then he went off into talk upon the bishop, describing his sufferings in +the Tower, for he was over eighty years old, and had scarcely sufficient +clothes to cover him. + +Now and again Chris looked across at his Superior. The Prior sat there +in his great chair, his head on his hand, silent and absorbed; it was +only when Dom Odo stopped for a moment that he glanced up impatiently +and nodded for him to go on. It seemed as if he could not hear enough, +and yet Chris saw him wince, and heard him breathe sharply as each new +detail came out. + +The monk told them, too, of Prior Houghton's speech upon the cart. + +"They asked him whether even then he would submit to the King's laws, +and he called God to witness that it was not for obstinacy or perversity +that he refused, but that the King and the Parliament had decreed +otherwise than our Holy Mother enjoins; and that for himself he would +sooner suffer every kind of pain than deny a doctrine of the Church. And +when he had prayed from the thirtieth Psalm, he was turned off." + +The Prior stared almost vacantly at the monk who told his story with a +kind of terrified gusto, and once or twice his lips moved to speak; but +he was silent, and dropped his chin upon his hand again when the other +had done. + + * * * * * + +Chris scarcely knew how the days passed away that followed his arrival +in London. He spent them for the most part within doors, writing for the +Prior in the mornings, or keeping watch over the door as his Superior +talked with prelates and churchmen within, for ecclesiastical London was +as busy as a broken ant-hill, and men came and went continually--scared, +furtive monks, who looked this way and that, an abbot or two up for the +House of Lords, priors and procurators on business. There were continual +communications going to and fro among the religious houses, for the +prince of them, the contemplative Carthusian, had been struck at, and no +one knew where the assault would end. + +Meanwhile, Chris had heard no further news from Ralph. He thought of +writing to him, and even of visiting him again, but his heart sickened +at the thought of it. It was impossible, he told himself, that any +communication should pass between them until his brother had forsaken +his horrible business; the first sign of regret must come from the one +who had sinned. He wondered sometimes who the girl was, and, as a +hot-headed monk, suspected the worst. A man who could live as Ralph was +living could have no morals left. She had been so friendly with him, so +ready to defend him, so impatient, Chris thought, of any possibility of +wrong. No doubt she, too, was one of the corrupt band, one of the great +ladies that buzzed round the Court, and sucked the blood of God's +people. + +His own interior life, however, so roughly broken by his new +experiences, began to mend slowly as the days went on. + +He had begun, like a cat in a new house, to make himself slowly at home +in the hostel, and to set up that relation between outward objects and +his own self that is so necessary to interior souls not yet living in +detachment. He arranged his little room next the Prior's to be as much +as possible like his cell, got rid of one or two pieces of furniture +that distracted him, set his bed in another corner, and hung up his +beads in the same position that they used to occupy at Lewes. Each +morning he served the Prior's mass in the tiny chapel attached to the +house, and did his best both then and at his meditation to draw in the +torn fibres of his spirit. At moments of worship the supernatural world +began to appear again, like points of living rock emerging through sand, +detached and half stifled by external details, but real and abiding. +Little by little his serenity came back, and the old atmosphere +reasserted itself. After all, God was here as there; grace, penance, the +guardianship of the angels and the sacrament of the altar was the same +at Southwark as at Lewes. These things remained; while all else was +accidental--the different height of his room, the unfamiliar angles in +the passages, the new noises of London, the street cries, the clash of +music, the disordered routine of daily life. + +Half-way through June, after a long morning's conversation with a +stranger, the Prior sent for him. + +He was standing by the tall carved fire-place with his back to the door, +his head and one hand leaning against the stone, and he turned round +despondently as Chris came in. Chris could see he was deadly pale and +that his lips twitched with nervousness. + +"Brother," he said, "I have a perilous matter to go through, and you +must come with me." + +Chris felt his heart begin to labour with heavy sick beats. + +"I am to see my Lord of Rochester. A friend hath obtained the order. We +are to go at five o'clock. See that you be ready. We shall take boat at +the stairs." + +Chris waited, with his eyes deferentially cast down. + +"He is to be tried again on Thursday," went on the Prior, "and my +friends wish me to see him, God knows--" + +He stopped abruptly, made a sign with his hand, and as Chris left the +room he saw that he was leaning once more against the stone-work, and +that his head was buried in his arms. + +Three more Carthusians had been condemned in the previous week, but the +Bishop's trial, though his name was in the first indictment, was +postponed a few days. + +He too, like Sir Thomas More, had been over a year in the Tower; he had +been deprived of his see by an Act of Parliament, his palace had been +broken into and spoiled, and he himself, it was reported, was being +treated with the greatest rigour in the Tower. + +Chris was overcome with excitement at the thought that he was to see +this man. He had heard of his learning, his holiness, and his +austerities on all hands since his coming to London. When the bishop had +left Rochester at his summons to London a year before there had been a +wonderful scene of farewell, of which the story was still told in town. +The streets had been thronged with a vast crowd weeping and praying, as +he rode among them bare-headed, giving his blessing as he went. He had +checked his horse by the city-gate, and with a loud voice had bidden +them all stand by the old religion, and let no man take it from them. +And now here he lay himself in prison for the Faith, a Cardinal of the +Holy Roman Church, with scarcely clothes to cover him or food to eat. At +the sacking of his palace, too, as the men ran from room to room tearing +down the tapestries, and piling the plate together, a monk had found a +great iron box hidden in a corner. They cried to one another that it +held gold "for the bloody Pope"; and burst it open to find a hair shirt, +and a pair of disciplines. + + * * * * * + +It was a long row down to the Tower from Southwark against the +in-flowing tide. As they passed beneath the bridge Chris stared up at +the crowding houses, the great gates at either end, and the faces +craning down; and he caught one glimpse as they shot through the narrow +passage between the piers, of the tall wall above the gate, the poles +rising from it, and the severed heads that crowned them. Somewhere among +that forest of grim stems the Carthusian priors looked down. + +As he turned in his seat he saw the boatman grinning to himself, and +following his eyes observed the Prior beside him with a white fixed face +looking steadily downwards towards his feet. + +They found no difficulty when they landed at the stairs, and showed the +order at the gate. The warder called to a man within the guard-room who +came out and went before them along the walled way that led to the +inner ward. They turned up to the left presently and found themselves in +the great court that surrounded the White Tower. + +The Prior walked heavily with his face downcast as if he wished to avoid +notice, and Chris saw that he paid no attention to the men-at-arms and +other persons here and there who saluted his prelate's insignia. There +were plenty of people going about in the evening sunshine, soldiers and +attendants, and here and there at the foot of a tower stood a halberdier +in his buff jacket leaning on his weapon. There were many distinguished +persons in the Tower now, both ecclesiastics and laymen who had refused +to take one or both of the oaths, and Chris eyed the windows +wonderingly, picturing to himself where each lay, and with what courage. + +But more and more as he went he wondered why the Prior and he were here, +and who had obtained the order of admittance, for he had not had a sight +of it. + +When they reached the foot of the prison-tower the warder said a word to +the sentry, and took the two monks straight past, preceding them up the +narrow stairs that wound into darkness. There were windows here and +there, slits in the heavy masonry, through which Chris caught glimpses, +now of the moat on the west, now of the inner ward with the White Tower +huge and massive on the east. + +The Prior, who went behind the warder and in front of Chris, stopped +suddenly, and Chris could hear him whispering to himself; and at the +same time there sounded the creaking of a key in front. + +As the young monk stood there waiting, grasping the stone-work on his +right, again the excitement surged up; and with it was mingled something +of terror. It had been a formidable experience even to walk those few +hundred yards from the outer gate, and the obvious apprehensiveness of +the Prior who had spoken no audible word since they had landed, was far +from reassuring. + +Here he stood now for the first time in his life within those terrible +walls; he had seen the low Traitor's Gate on his way that was for so +many the gate of death. Even now as he gripped the stone he could see +out to the left through the narrow slit a streak of open land beyond the +moat and the wall, and somewhere there he knew lay the little rising +ground, that reddened week after week in an ooze of blood and slime. And +now he was at the door of one who without doubt would die there soon for +the Faith that they both professed. + +The Prior turned sharply round. + +"You!" he said, "I had forgotten: you must wait here till I call you +in." + +There was a sounding of an opening door above; the Prior went up and +forward, leaving him standing there; the door closed, but not before +Chris had caught a glimpse of a vaulted roof; and then the warder stood +by him again, waiting with his keys in his hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +PRISONER AND PRINCE + + +The sun sank lower and had begun to throw long shadows before the door +opened again and the Prior beckoned. As Chris had stood there staring +out of the window at the green water of the moat and the shadowed wall +beyond, with the warder standing a few steps below, now sighing at the +delay, now humming a line or two, he had heard voices now and again from +the room above, but it had been no more than a murmur that died once +more into silence. + + * * * * * + +Chris was aware of a dusty room as he stepped over the threshold, bare +walls, one or two solid pieces of furniture, and of the Prior's figure +very upright in the light from the tiny window at one side; and then he +forgot everything as he looked at the man that was standing smiling by +the table. + +It was a very tall slender figure, dressed in a ragged black gown +turning green with age; a little bent now, but still dignified; the face +was incredibly lean, with great brown eyes surrounded by wrinkles, and a +little white hair, ragged, too, and long, hung down under the old +flapped cap. The hand that Chris kissed seemed a bundle of reeds bound +with parchment, and above the wrist bones the arm grew thinner still +under the loose, torn sleeve. + +Then the monk stood up and saw those kindly proud eyes looking into his +own. + +The Prior made a deferential movement and said a word or two, and the +bishop answered him. + +"Yes, yes, my Lord Prior; I understand--God bless you, my son." + +The bishop moved across to the chair, and sat down, panting a little, +for he was torn by sickness and deprivation, and laid his long hands +together. + +"Sit down, brother," he said, "and you too, my Lord Prior." + +Chris saw the Prior move across to an old broken stool, but he himself +remained standing, awed and almost terrified at that worn face in which +the eyes alone seemed living; so thin that the cheekbones stood out +hideously, and the line of the square jaw. But the voice was wonderfully +sweet and penetrating. + +"My Lord Prior and I have been talking of the times, and what is best to +be done, and how we must all be faithful. You will be faithful, +brother?" + +Chris made an effort against the absorbing fascination of that face and +voice. + +"I will, my lord." + +"That is good; you must follow your prior and be obedient to him. You +will find him wise and courageous." + +The bishop nodded gently towards the Prior, and Chris heard a sobbing +indrawn breath from the corner where the broken stool stood. + +"It is a time of great moment," went on the bishop; "much hangs on how +we carry ourselves. His Grace has evil counsellors about him." + +There was silence for a moment or two; Chris could not take his eyes +from the bishop's face. The frightful framework of skin and bones seemed +luminous from within, and there was an extraordinary sweetness on those +tightly drawn lips, and in the large bright eyes. + +"His Grace has been to the Tower lately, I hear, and once to the +Marshalsea, to see Dom Sebastian Newdegate, who, as you know, was at +Court for many years till he entered the Charterhouse; but I have had no +visit from him, nor yet, I should think, Master More--you must not judge +his Grace too hardly, my son; he was a good lad, as I knew very well--a +very gallant and brave lad. A Frenchman said that he seemed to have come +down from heaven. And he has always had a great faith and devotion, and +a very strange and delicate conscience that has cost him much pain. But +he has been counselled evilly." + +Chris remembered as in a dream that the bishop had been the King's tutor +years before. + +"He is a good theologian too," went on the bishop, "and that is his +misfortune now, though I never thought to say such a thing. Perhaps he +will become a better one still, if God has mercy on him, and he will +come back to his first faith. But we must be good Catholics ourselves, +and be ready to die for our Religion, before we can teach him." + +Again, after another silence, he went on. + +"You are to be a priest, I hear, my son, and to take Christ's yoke more +closely upon you. It is no easy one in these days, though love will make +it so, as Himself said. I suppose it will be soon now?" + +"We are to get a dispensation, my lord, for the interstices," said the +Prior. + +Chris had heard that this would be done, before he left Lewes, and he +was astonished now, not at the news, but at the strange softness of the +Prior's voice. + +"That is very well," went on the bishop. "We want all the faithful +priests possible. There is a great darkness in the land, and we need +lights to lighten it. You have a brother in Master Cromwell's service, +sir, I hear?" + +Chris was silent. + +"You must not grieve too much. God Almighty can set all right. It may be +he thinks he is serving Him. We are not here to judge, but to give our +own account." + +The bishop went on presently to ask a few questions and to talk of +Master More, saying that he had managed to correspond with him for a +while, but that now all the means for doing so had been taken away from +them both, as well as his own books. + +"It is a great grief to me that I cannot say my office, nor say nor hear +mass: I must trust now to the Holy Sacrifice offered by others." + +He spoke so tenderly and tranquilly that Chris was hardly able to keep +back his tears. It seemed that the soul still kept its serene poise in +that wasted body, and was independent of it. There was no weakness nor +peevishness anywhere. The very room with its rough walls, its cobwebbed +roof, its uneven flooring, its dreadful chill and gloom, seemed alive +with a warm, redolent, spiritual atmosphere generated by this keen, pure +soul. Chris had never been near so real a sanctity before. + +"You have seen nothing of my Rochester folk, I suppose?" went on the +bishop to the Prior. + +The Prior shook his head. + +"I am very downcast about them sometimes; I saw many of them at the +court the other day. I forget that the Good Shepherd can guard His own +sheep. And they were so faithful to me that I know they will be faithful +to Him." + + * * * * * + +There came a sound of a key being knocked upon the door outside, and the +bishop stood up, slowly and painfully. + +"That will be Mr. Giles," he said, "hungry for supper." + +The two monks sank down on their knees, and as Chris closed his eyes he +heard a soft murmur of blessing over his head. + +Then each kissed his hand and Chris went to the door, half blind with +tears. + +He heard a whisper from the bishop to the Prior, who still lingered a +moment, and a half sob-- + +"God helping me!"--said the Prior. + +There was no more spoken, and the two went down the stairs together into +the golden sunshine with the warder behind them. + +Chris dared not look at the other. He had had a glimpse of his face as +he stood aside on the stairs to let him pass, and what he saw there told +him enough. + + * * * * * + +There were plenty of boats rocking on the tide at the foot of the river +stairs outside the Tower, and they stepped into one, telling the man to +row to Southwark. + +It was a glorious summer evening now. The river lay bathed in the level +sunshine that turned it to molten gold, and it was covered with boats +plying in all directions. There were single wherries going to and from +the stairs that led down on all sides into the water, and barges here +and there, of the great merchants or nobles going home to supper, with a +line of oars on each side, and a glow of colour gilding in the stem and +prow, were moving up stream towards the City. London Bridge stood out +before them presently, like a palace in a fairy-tale, blue and romantic +against the western glow, and above it and beyond rose up the tall spire +of the Cathedral. On the other side a fringe of houses began a little to +the east of the bridge, and ran up to the spires of Southwark on the +other side, and on them lay a glory of sunset with deep shadows barring +them where the alleys ran down to the water's edge. Here and there +behind rose up the heavy masses of the June foliage. A troop of swans, +white patches on the splendour, were breasting up against the +out-flowing tide. + +The air was full of sound; the rattle and dash of oars, men's voices +coming clear and minute across the water; and as they got out near +mid-stream the bell of St. Paul's boomed far from away, indescribably +solemn and melodious; another church took it up, and a chorus of mellow +voices tolled out the Angelus. + +Chris was half through saying it to himself, when across the soft murmur +sounded the clash of brass far away beyond the bridge. + +The boatman paused at his oars, turned round a moment, grasping them in +one hand, and stared up-stream under the other. Chris could see a +movement among the boats higher up, and there seemed to break out a +commotion at the foot of the houses on London Bridge, and then far away +came the sound of cheering. + +"What is it?" asked the Prior sharply, lifting his head, as the boatman +gave an exclamation and laid furiously to his oars again. + +The man jerked his head backwards. + +"The King's Grace," he said. + + * * * * * + +For a minute or two nothing more was to be seen. A boat or two near them +was seen making off to the side from mid-stream, to leave a clear +passage, and there were cries from the direction of the bridge where +someone seemed to be in difficulties with the strong stream and the +piers. A wherry that was directly between them and the bridge moved +off, and the shining water-way was left for the King's Grace to come +down. + +Then, again, the brass horns sounded nearer. + +Chris was conscious of an immense excitement. The dramatic contrast of +the scene he had just left with that which he was witnessing overpowered +him. He had seen one end of the chain of life, the dying bishop in the +Tower, in his rags; now he was to see the other end, the Sovereign at +whose will he was there, in all the magnificence of a pageant. The Prior +was sitting bolt upright on the seat beside him; one hand lay on his +knee, the knuckles white with clenching, the other gripped the side of +the boat. + +Then, again, the fierce music sounded, and the first boat appeared under +one of the wider spans of the bridge, a couple of hundred yards away. + +The stream was running out strongly by now, and the boatman tugged to +get out of it into the quieter water at the side, and as he pulled an +oar snapped. The Prior half started up as the man burst out into an +exclamation, and began to paddle furiously with the other oar, but the +boat revolved helplessly, and he was forced to change it to the opposite +side. + +Meanwhile the boats were beginning to stream under the bridge, and +Chris, seeing that the boat in which he sat was sufficiently out of the +way to allow a clear passage in mid-stream even if not far enough +removed for proper deference, gave himself up to watching the splendid +sight. + +The sun had now dropped behind the high houses by the bridge, and a +shadow lay across the water, but nearer at hand the way was clear, and +in a moment more the leading boat had entered the sunlight. + +There was no possibility of mistake as to whether this were the royal +barge or no. It was a great craft, seventy feet from prow to stem at +the very least, and magnificent with colour. As it burst out into the +sun, it blazed blindingly with gold; the prow shone with blue and +crimson; the stern, roofed in with a crimson canopy with flying tassels, +trailed brilliant coarse tapestries on either side; and the Royal +Standard streamed out behind. + +Chris tried to count the oars, as they swept into the water with a +rhythmical throb and out again, flashing a fringe of drops and showing a +coat painted on each blade. There seemed to be eight or ten a side. A +couple of trumpeters stood in the bows, behind the gilded carved +figurehead, their trumpets held out symmetrically with the square +hangings flapping as they came. + +He could see now the heads of the watermen who rowed, with the caps of +the royal livery moving together like clockwork at the swing of the +oars. + +Behind followed the other boats, some half dozen in all; and as each +pair burst out into the level sunlight with a splendour of gold and +colour, and the roar from London Bridge swelled louder and louder, for a +moment the young monk forgot the bitter underlying tragedy of all that +he had seen and knew--forgot oozy Tower-hill and trampled Tyburn and the +loaded gallows--forgot even the grim heads that stared out with dead +tortured eyes from the sheaves of pikes rising high above him at this +moment against the rosy sky--forgot the monks of the Charterhouse and +their mourning hearts; the insulted queen, repudiated and declared a +concubine--forgot all that made life so hard to live and understand at +this time--as this splendid vision of the lust of the eyes broke out in +pulsating sound and colour before him. + +But it was only for a moment. + +There was a group of half-a-dozen persons under the canopy of the +seat-of-state of the leading boat; the splendid centre of the splendid +show, brilliant in crimson and gold and jewels. + +On the further side sat two men. Chris did not know their faces, but as +his eyes rested on them a moment he noticed that one was burly and +clean-shaven, and wore some insignia across his shoulders. At the near +side were the backs of two ladies, silken clad and slashed with crimson, +their white jewelled necks visible under their coiled hair and tight +square cut caps. And in the centre sat a pair, a man and a woman; and on +these he fixed his eyes as the boat swept up not twenty yards away, for +he knew who they must be. + +The man was leaning back, looking gigantic in his puffed sleeves and +wide mantle; one great arm was flung along the back of the tapestried +seat, and his large head, capped with purple and feathers, was bending +towards the woman who sat beyond. Chris could make out a fringe of +reddish hair beneath his ear and at the back of the flat head between +the high collar and the cap. He caught a glimpse, too, of a sedate face +beyond, set on a slender neck, with downcast eyes and red lips. And then +as the boat came opposite, and the trumpeters sent out a brazen crash +from the trumpets at their lips, the man turned his head and stared +straight at the boat. + +It was an immensely wide face, fringed with reddish hair, scanty about +the lips and more full below; and it looked the wider from the narrow +drooping eyes set near together and the small pursed mouth. Below, his +chin swelled down fold after fold into his collar, and the cheeks were +wide and heavy on either side. + +It was the most powerful face that Chris had ever seen or dreamed +of--the animal brooded in every line and curve of it--it would have +been brutish but for the steady pale stare of the eyes and the tight +little lips. It fascinated and terrified him. + +The flourish ended, the roar of the rowlocks sounded out again like the +beating of a furious heart; the King turned his head again and said +something, and the boat swept past. + +Chris found that he had started to his feet, and sat down again, +breathing quickly and heavily, with a kind of indignant loathing that +was new to him. + +This then was the master of England, the heart of all their +troubles--that gorgeous fat man with the broad pulpy face, in his +crimson and jewels; and that was his concubine who sat demure beside +him, with her white folded ringed hands on her lap, her beautiful eyes +cast down, and her lord's hot breath in her ear! It was these that were +purifying the Church of God of such men as the Cardinal-bishop in the +Tower, and the witty holy lawyer! It was by the will of such as these +that the heads of the Carthusian Fathers, bound brow and chin with +linen, stared up and down with dead eyes from the pikes overhead. + +He sat panting and unseeing as the other boats swept past, full of the +King's friends all going down to Greenwich. + +There broke out a roar from the Tower behind, and he started and turned +round to see the white smoke eddying up from the edge of the wall beside +the Traitor's gate; a shrill cheer or two, far away and thin, sounded +from the figures on the wharf and the boatmen about the stairs. + +The wherryman sat down again and put on his cap. + +"Body of God!" he said, "there was but just time." + +And he began to pull again with his single oar towards the shore. + +Chris looked at the Prior a moment and down again. He was sitting with +tight lips, and hands clasped in his lap, and his eyes were wild and +piteous. + +They borrowed an oar presently from another boat, and went on up towards +Southwark. The wherryman pawed once to spit on his hands as they neared +the rush of the current below the bridge. + +"That was Master Cromwell with His Grace," he said. + +Chris looked at him questioningly. + +"Him with the gold collar," he added, "and that was Audley by him." + +The Prior had glanced at Chris as Cromwell's name was mentioned; but +said nothing for the present. And Chris himself was lost again in +musing. That was Ralph's master then, the King's right-hand man, feared +next in England after the King himself--and Chancellor Audley, too, and +Anne, all in one wooden boat. How easy for God to put out His hand and +finish them! And then he was ashamed at his own thought, so faithless +and timid; and he remembered Fisher once more and his gallant spirit in +that broken body. + +A minute or two later they had landed at the stairs, and were making +their way up to the hostel. + +The Prior put out his hand and checked him as he stepped ahead to knock. + +"Wait," he said. "Do you know who signed the order we used at the +Tower?" + +Chris shook his head. + +"Master Cromwell," said the Prior. "And do you know by whose hand it +came?" + +Chris stared in astonishment. + +"It was by your brother," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE SACRED PURPLE + + +It was a bright morning a few days later when the Bishop of Rochester +suffered on Tower Hill. + +Chris was there early, and took up his position at the outskirts of the +little crowd, facing towards the Tower itself; and for a couple of hours +watched the shadows creep round the piles of masonry, and the light +deepen and mellow between him and the great mass of the White Tower a +few hundred yards away. There was a large crowd there a good while +before nine o'clock, and Chris found himself at the hour no longer on +the outskirts but in the centre of the people. + +He had served the Prior's mass at six o'clock, and had obtained leave +from him the night before to be present at the execution; but the Prior +himself had given no suggestion of coming. Chris had begun to see that +his superior was going through a conflict, and that he wished to spare +himself any further motives of terror; he began too to understand that +the visit to the bishop had had the effect of strengthening the Prior's +courage, whatever had been the intention on the part of the authorities +in allowing him to go. He was still wondering why Ralph had lent himself +to the scheme; but had not dared to press his superior further. + + * * * * * + +The bishop had made a magnificent speech at his trial, and had +protested with an extraordinary pathos, that called out a demonstration +from the crowd in court, against Master Rich's betrayal of his +confidence. Under promise of the King that nothing that he said to his +friend should be used against him, the bishop had shown his mind in a +private conversation on the subject of the Supremacy Act, and now this +had been brought against him by Rich himself at the trial. + +"Seeing it pleased the King's Highness," said the bishop, "to send to me +thus secretly to know my poor advice and opinion, which I most gladly +was, and ever will be, ready to offer to him when so commanded, methinks +it very hard to allow the same as sufficient testimony against me, to +prove me guilty of high treason." + +Rich excused himself by affirming that he said or did nothing more than +what the King commanded him to do; and the trial ended by the bishop's +condemnation. + + * * * * * + +As Chris waited by the scaffold he prayed almost incessantly. There was +sufficient spur for prayer in the menacing fortress before him with its +hundred tiny windows, and the new scaffold, some five or six feet high, +that stood in the foreground. He wondered how the bishop was passing his +time and thought he knew. The long grey wall beyond the moat, and the +towers that rose above it, were suggestive in their silent strength. +From where he stood too he could catch a glimpse of the shining reaches +of the river with the green slopes on the further side; and the freedom +and beauty of the sight, the delicate haze that hung over the water, the +birds winging their way across, the boats plying to and fro, struck a +vivid contrast to the grim fatality of the prison and the scaffold. + +A bell sounded out somewhere from the Tower, and a ripple ran through +the crowd. There was an immensely tall man a few yards from Chris, and +Chris could see his face turn suddenly towards the lower ground by the +river where the gateway rose up dark against the bright water. The man's +face suddenly lighted with interest, and Chris saw his lips move and his +eyes become intent. Then a surging movement began, and the monk was +swept away to the left by the packed crowd round him. There were faces +lining the wall and opposite, and all were turned one way. A great +murmur began to swell up, and a woman beside him turned white and began +to sob quietly. + +His eyes caught a bright point of light that died again, flashed out, +and resolved itself into a gleaming line of halberds, moving on towards +the right above the heads, up the slope to the scaffold. He saw a horse +toss his head; and then a feathered cap or two swaying behind. + +Then for one instant between the shifting heads in front he caught sight +of a lean face framed in a flapped cap swaying rhythmically as if borne +on a chair. It vanished again. + +The flashing line of halberds elongated itself, divided, and came +between the scaffold and him; and the murmur of the crowd died to a +heart-shaking silence. A solemn bell clanged out again from the interior +of the prison, and Chris, his wet hands knit together, began to count +the strokes mechanically, staring at the narrow rail of the scaffold, +and waiting for the sight that he knew would come. Then again he was +swept along a yard or two to the right, and when he had recovered his +feet a man was on the scaffold, bending forwards and gesticulating. +Another head rose into the line of vision, and this man too turned +towards the steps up which he had come, and stood, one hand +outstretched. + +Again a murmur and movement began; Chris had to look to his foothold, +and when he raised his head again a solemn low roar was rising up and +swelling, of pity and excitement, for, silhouetted against the sunlit +Tower behind, stood the man for whose sake all were there. + +He was in a black gown and tippet, and carried his two hands clasped to +his breast; and in them was a book and a crucifix. His cap was on his +head, and the white face, incredibly thin, looked out over the heads of +the crowd. + +Chris hardly noticed that the scaffold was filling with people, until a +figure came forward, in black, with a masked face, and bowed +deferentially to the bishop; and in an instant silence fell again. + +He saw the bishop turn and bow slightly in return, and in the stillness +that wonderful voice sounded out, with the clear minuteness of words +spoken in the open air, clear and penetrating over the whole ground. + +"I forgive you very heartily; and I hope you will see me overcome this +storm lustily." + +The black figure fell back, and the bishop stood hesitating, looking +this way and that as if for direction. + +The Lieutenant of the Tower came forward; but Chris could only see his +lips move, as a murmur had broken out again at the bishop's answer; but +he signed with his hand and stepped behind the prisoner. + +The bishop nodded, lifted his hand and took off his cap; and his white +hair appeared; then he fumbled at his throat, holding the book and +crucifix in his other hand; and, with the Lieutenant's help, slipped off +his tippet and loose gown; and as he freed himself, and stood in his +doublet and hose, a great sobbing cry of horror and compassion rose from +the straining faces, for he seemed scarcely to be a living man, so +dreadful was his emaciation. Above that lean figure of death looked out +the worn old face, serene and confident. He was again holding the book +and crucifix clasped to his breast, as he stepped to the edge of the +scaffold. + +The cry died to a murmur and ceased abruptly as he began his speech, +every word of which was audible. + +"Christian people," he began, "I am come hither to die for the faith of +Christ's holy Catholic Church." He raised his voice a little, and it +rang out confidently. "And I thank God that hitherto my stomach hath +served me very well thereunto, so that yet I have not feared death. +Wherefore I desire you all to help and assist with your prayers, that at +the very point and instant of death's stroke I may in that very moment +stand steadfast, without fainting in any one point of the Catholic +Faith, free from any fear." + +He paused again; his hands closed one on the other. He glanced up. + +"And I beseech the Almighty God of His infinite goodness and mercy, to +save the King and this realm; and that it may please Him to hold His +hand over it, and send the King's Highness good counsel." + +He ceased abruptly; and dropped his head. + +A gentle groan ran through the crowd. + +Chris felt his throat contract, and a mist blinded his eyes for a +moment. + +Then he saw the bishop slip the crucifix into his other hand, and open +the book, apparently at random. His lean finger dropped upon the page; +and he read aloud softly, as if to himself. + +"This is life eternal, that they might know Thee, the one true God, and +Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent. I have glorified Thee on the earth; I +have finished the work which Thou gavest me to do." + +Again there was silence, for it seemed as if he was going to make a +sermon, but he looked down at the book a moment or two. Then he closed +it gently. + +"Here is learning enough for me," he said, "to my life's end." + +There was a movement among the silent figures at the back of the +scaffold; and the Lieutenant stepped forward once more. The bishop +turned to meet him and nodded; handing him the book; and then with the +crucifix still in his hands, and with the officer's help, sank on to his +knees. + + * * * * * + +It seemed to Chris as if he waited an eternity; but he could not take +his eyes off him. Round about was the breathing mass of the crowd, +overhead the clear summer sky; up from the river came the sounds of +cries and the pulse of oars, and from the Tower now and again the call +of a horn and the stroke of a bell; but all this was external, and +seemed to have no effect upon the intense silence of the heart that +radiated from the scaffold, and in which the monk felt himself +enveloped. The space between himself and the bishop seemed annihilated; +and Chris found himself in company with a thousand others close beside +the man's soul that was to leave the world so soon. He could not pray; +but he had the sensation of gripping that imploring spirit, pulsating +with it, furthering with his own strained will that stream of effort +that he knew was going forth. + +Meanwhile his eyes stared at him; and saw without seeing how the old man +now leaned back with closed eyes and moving lips; now he bent forward, +and looked at the crucified figure that he held between his hands, now +lifted it and lingeringly kissed the pierced feet. Behind stood the +stiff line of officers, and in front below the rail rose the glitter of +the halberds. + +The minutes went by and there was no change. The world seemed to have +grown rigid with expectancy; it was as if time stood still. There fell +upon the monk's soul, not suddenly but imperceptibly, something of that +sense of the unseen that he had experienced at Tyburn. For a certain +space all sorrow and terror left him; he knew tangibly now that to which +at other times his mere faith assented; he knew that the world of spirit +was the real one; that the Tower, the axe, the imminent shadow of death, +were little more than illusions; they were part of the staging, +significant and necessary, but with no substance of reality. The eternal +world in which God was all, alone was a fact. He felt no longer pity or +regret. Nothing but the sheer existence of a Being of which all persons +there were sharers, poised in an eternal instant, remained with him. + +This strange sensation was scarcely disturbed by the rising of the lean +black figure from its knees; Chris watched him as he might have watched +the inevitable movement of an actor performing his pre-arranged part. +The bishop turned eastward, to where the sun was now high above the +Tower gate, and spoke once more. + +"_Accedite ad eum, et illuminamini; et facies vestr non confundentur_." + +Then once more in the deathly stillness he turned round; and his eyes +ran over the countless faces turned up to his own. But there was a +certain tranquil severity in his face--the severity of one who has taken +a bitter cup firmly into his hand; his lips were tightly compressed, and +his eyes were deep and steady. + +Then very slowly he lifted his right hand, touched his forehead, and +enveloped himself in a great sign of the cross, still looking out +unwaveringly over the faces; and immediately, without any hesitation, +sank down on his knees, put his hands before him on to the scaffold, and +stretched himself flat. + +He was now invisible to Chris; for the low block on which he had laid +his neck was only a few inches high. + +There was again a surge and a murmur as the headsman stepped forward +with the huge-headed axe over his shoulder, and stood waiting. + +Then again the moments began to pass. + + * * * * * + +Chris lost all consciousness of his own being; he was aware of nothing +but the objective presence of the scaffold, of an overpowering +expectancy. It seemed as if something were stretched taut in his brain, +at breaking point; as if some vast thing were on the point of +revelation. All else had vanished,--the scene round him, the sense of +the invisible; there was but the point of space left, waiting for an +explosion. + +There was a sense of wrenching torture as the headsman lifted the axe, +bringing it high round behind him; the motion seemed shockingly slow, +and to wring the strained nerves to agony.... + + * * * * * + +Then in a blinding climax the axe fell. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE KING'S FRIEND + + +Overfield Court was mildly stirred at the news that Master Christopher +would stay there a few days on his way back from London to Lewes. It was +not so exciting as when Master Ralph was to come, as the latter made +more demands than a mere monk; for the one the horses must be in the +pink of condition, the game neither too wild nor too tame, his rooms +must be speckless, neither too full nor too empty of furniture; for the +other it did not matter so much, for he was now not only a younger +brother, but a monk, and therefore accustomed to contradiction and +desirous to acquiesce in arrangements. + +Lady Torridon indeed took no steps at all when she heard that Chris was +coming, beyond expressing a desire that she might not be called upon to +discuss the ecclesiastical situation at every meal; and when Chris +finally arrived a week after Bishop Fisher's execution, having parted +with the Prior at Cuckfield, she was walking in her private garden +beyond the moat. + +Sir James was in a very different state. He had caused two rooms to be +prepared, that his son might take his choice, one next to Mr. Carleton's +and therefore close to the chapel, and the other the old chamber that +Chris had occupied before he went to Lewes; and when the monk at last +rode up on alone on his tired mule with his little bag strapped to the +crupper, an hour before sunset, his father was out at the gatehouse to +meet him, and walked up beside him to the house, with his hand laid on +his son's knee. + +They hardly spoke a word as they went; Sir James had looked up at +Chris's white strained face, and had put one question; and the other had +nodded; and the hearts of both were full as they went together to the +house. + +The father and son supped together alone that night in the private +parlour, for no one had dared to ask Lady Torridon to postpone her usual +supper hour; and as soon as that was over and Chris had told what he had +seen, with many silences, they went into the oak-room where Lady +Torridon and Mr. Carleton were awaiting them by the hearth with the +Flemish tiles. + +The mother was sitting as usual in her tall chair, with her beautiful +hands on her lap, and smiled with a genial contempt as she ran her eyes +up and down her son's figure. + +"The habit suits you very well, my son--in every way," she added, +looking at him curiously. + +Chris had greeted her an hour before at his arrival, so there was no +ceremony of salute to be gone through now. He sat down by his father. + +"You have seen Ralph, I hear," observed Lady Torridon. + +Chris did not know how much she knew, and simply assented. He had told +his father everything. + +"I have some news," she went on in an unusually talkative mood, "for you +both. Ralph is to marry Beatrice Atherton--the girl you saw in his +rooms, Christopher." + +Sir James gave an exclamation and leant forward; and Chris tightened his +lips. + +"She is a friend of Mr. More's," went on Lady Torridon, apparently +unconscious of the sensation she was making, "but that is Ralph's +business, I suppose." + +"Why did Ralph not write to me?" asked his father, with a touch of +sternness. + +Lady Torridon answered him by a short pregnant silence, and then went +on-- + +"I suppose he wished me to break it to you. It will not be for two or +three years. She says she cannot leave Mrs. More for the present." + +Chris's brain was confused by the news, and yet it all seemed external +to him. As he had ridden up to the house in the evening he had +recognised for the first time how he no longer belonged to the place; +his two years at Lewes had done their work, and he came to his home now +not as a son but as a guest. He had even begun to perceive the +difference after his quarrel with Ralph, for he had not been conscious +of the same personal sting at his brother's sins that he would have felt +five years ago. And now this news, while it affected him, did not +penetrate to the still sanctuary that he had hewn out of his heart +during those months of discipline. + +But his father was roused. + +"He should have written to me," he said sternly. "And, my wife, I will +beg you to remember that I have a right to my son's business." + +Lady Torridon did not move or answer. He leaned back again, and passed +his hand tenderly through Chris's arm. + + * * * * * + +It was very strange to the younger son to find himself a few minutes +later up again in the west gallery of the chapel, where he had knelt two +years before; and for a few moments he almost felt himself at home. But +the mechanical shifting of his scapular aside as he sat down for the +psalms, recalled facts. Then he had been in his silk suit, his hands had +been rough with his cross-bow, his beard had been soft on his chin, and +the blood hot in his cheeks. Now he was in his habit, smooth-faced and +shaven, tired and oppressed, still weak from the pangs of soul-birth. He +was further from human love, but nearer the Divine, he thought. + +He sat with his father a few minutes after compline; and Sir James spoke +more frankly of the news that they had heard. + +"If she is really a friend of Mr. More's," he said, "she may be his +salvation. I am sorely disappointed in him. I did not know Master +Cromwell when I sent him to him, as I do now. Is it my fault, Chris?" + + * * * * * + +Chris told his father presently of what the Prior had said as to Ralph's +assistance in the matter of the visit that the two monks had paid to the +Tower; and asked an interpretation. + +Sir James sat quiet a minute or two, stroking his pointed grey beard +softly, and looking into the hearth. + +"God forgive me if I am wrong, my son," he said at last, "but I wonder +whether they let the my Lord Prior go to the Tower in order to shake the +confidence of both. Do you think so, Chris?" + +Chris too was silent a moment; he knew he must not speak evil of +dignities. + +"It may be so. I know that my Lord Prior--" + +"Well, my son?" + +"My Lord Prior has been very anxious--" + +Sir James patted his son on the knee, and reassured him. + +"Prior Crowham is a very holy man, I think; but--but somewhat delicate. +However their designs have come to nothing. The bishop is in glory; and +the other more courageous than he was." + +Chris also had a few words with Mr. Carleton before he went to bed, +sitting where he had sat in the moonlight two years before. + +"If they have done so much," said the priest, "they will do more. When a +man has slipped over a precipice he cannot save his fall. Master More +will be the next to go; I make no doubt of that. You are to be a priest +soon, Chris?" + +"They have applied for leave," said the monk shortly. "In two years I +shall be a priest, no doubt, if God wills." + +"You are happy?" asked the other. + +Chris made a little gesture. + +"I do not know what that means," he said, "but I know I have done right. +I feel nothing. God's ways and His world are too strange." + +The priest looked at him oddly, without speaking. + +"Well, father?" asked Chris, smiling. + +"You are right," said the chaplain brusquely. "You have done well. You +have crossed the border." + +Chris felt the blood surge in his temples. + +"The border?" he asked. + +"The border of dreams. They surround the Religious Life; and you have +passed through them." + +Chris still looked at him with parted lips. This praise was sweet, after +the bitterness of his failure with Ralph. The priest seemed to know what +was passing in his mind. + +"Oh! you will fail sometimes," he said, "but not finally. You are a +monk, my son, and a man." + + * * * * * + +Lady Torridon retired into her impregnable silence again after her +sallies of speech on the previous evening; but as the few days went on +that Chris had been allowed to spend with his parents he was none the +less aware that her attitude towards him was one of contempt. She +showed it in a hundred ways--by not appearing to see him, by refusing to +modify her habits in the smallest particular for his convenience, by a +rigid silence on the subject that was in the hearts of both him and his +father. She performed her duties as punctually and efficiently as ever, +dealt dispassionately and justly with an old servant who had been +troublesome, and with regard to whom her husband was both afraid and +tender; but never asked for confidences or manifested the minutest +detail of her own accord. + + * * * * * + +On the fourth day after Chris's arrival news came that Sir Thomas More +had been condemned, but it roused no more excitement than the fall of a +threatening rod. It had been known to be inevitable. And then on Chris's +last evening at home came the last details. + + * * * * * + +Sir James and Chris had been out for a long ride up the estate, talking +but little, for each knew what was in the heart of the other; and they +were just dismounting at the terrace-steps when there was a sound of +furious galloping; and a couple of riders burst through the gateway a +hundred yards away. + +Chris felt his heart leap and hammer in his throat, but stood passively +awaiting what he knew was coming; and a few seconds later, Nicholas +Maxwell checked his horse passionately at the steps. + +"God damn them!" he cried, with a crimson quivering face. + +Sir James stepped up at once and took him by the arm. + +"Nick," he said, and glanced at the staring grooms. + +Nicholas showed his teeth like a dog. + +"God damn them!" he said again. + +The other rider had come up by now; he was dusty and seemed spent. He +was a stranger to the father and son who waited on the steps; but he +looked like a groom, and slipped off his horse deftly and took Sir +Nicholas's bridle. + +"Come in Nick," said Sir James. "We can talk in the house." + +As the three went up together, with the strange rider at a respectful +distance behind, Nicholas broke out again in one sentence. + +"They have done it," he said, "he is dead. Mother of God!" + +His whip twitched in his clenching hand. He turned and jerked his head +beckoningly to the man who followed; and the four went on together, +through the hall and into Sir James's parlour. Sir James shut the door. + +"Tell us, Nick." + +Nicholas stood at the hearth, glaring and shifting. + +"This fellow knows--he saw it; tell them, Dick." + +The man gave his account. He was one of the servants of Sir Nicholas' +younger brother, who lived in town, and had been sent down to Great +Keynes immediately after the execution that had taken place that +morning. He was a man of tolerable education, and told his story well. + +Sir James sat as he listened, with his hand shading his eyes; Nicholas +was fidgetting at the hearth, interrupting the servant now and again +with questions and reminders; and Chris leaned in the dark corner by the +window. There floated vividly before his mind as he listened the setting +of the scene that he had looked upon a few days ago, though there were +new actors in it now. + +"It was this morning, sir, on Tower Hill. There was a great company +there long before the time. He came out bravely enough, walking with +the Lieutenant that was his friend, and with a red cross in his hand." + +"You were close by," put in Nicholas + +"Yes, sir; I was beside the stairs. They shook as he went up; they were +crazy steps, and he told the Lieutenant to have a care to him." + +"The words, man, the words!" + +"I am not sure, sir; but they were after this fashion: 'See me safe up, +Master Lieutenant; I will shift for myself at the coming down.' So he +got up safe, and stamped once or twice merrily to see if all were firm. +Then he made a speech, sir, and begged all there to pray for him. He +told them that he was to die for the faith of the Catholic Church, as my +Lord of Rochester did." + +"Have you heard of my lord's head being taken to Nan Boleyn?" put in +Nicholas fiercely. + +Sir James looked up. + +"Presently, Nick," he said. + +The man went on. + +"Master More kneeled down presently at his prayers; and all the folk +kept very quiet. There was not one that cried against him. Then he stood +up again, put off his gown, so that his neck was bare; and passed his +hand over it smiling. Then he told the headsman that it was but a short +one, and bade him be brave and strike straight, lest his good name +should suffer. Then he laid himself down to the block, and put his neck +on it; but he moved again before he gave the sign, and put his beard out +in front--for he had grown one in prison"-- + +"Give us the words," snarled Nicholas. + +"He said, sir, that his beard had done no treason, and need not +therefore suffer as he had to do. And then he thrust out his hand for a +sign--and 'twas done at a stroke." + +"God damn them!" hissed Nicholas again as a kind of Amen, turning +swiftly to the fire-place so that his face could not be seen. + +There was complete silence for a few seconds. The groom had his eyes +cast down, and stood there--then again he spoke. + +"As to my Lord of Rochester's head, that was taken off to the--the +Queen, they say, in a white bag, and she struck it on the mouth." + +Nicholas dropped his head against his hand that rested on the wood-work. + +"And the body rested naked all day on the scaffold, with the halberd-men +drinking round about; and 'twas tumbled into a hole in Barking +Churchyard that night." + +"At whose orders?" + +"At Master Cromwell's, sir." + +Again there was silence; and again the groom broke it. + +"There was more said, sir--" and hesitated. + +The old man signed to him to go on. + +"They say that my lord's head shone with light each night on the +bridge," said the man reverently; "there was a great press there, I +know, all day, so that the streets were blocked, and none could come or +go. And so they tumbled that into the river at last; at least 'tis +supposed so--for 'twas gone when I looked." + +Nicholas turned round; and his eyes were bright and his face fiery and +discoloured. + +Sir James stood up, and his voice was broken as he spoke. + +"Thank you, my man. You have told your story well." + + * * * * * + +As the groom turned to go out, Sir Nicholas wheeled round swiftly to the +hearth, and buried his face on his arm; and Chris saw a great heaving +begin to shake his broad shoulders. + + + + +THE KING'S TRIUMPH--BOOK II + + + + +PART I--THE SMALLER HOUSES + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AN ACT OF FAITH + + +Towards the end of August Beatrice Atherton was walking up the north +bank of the river from Charing to Westminster to announce to Ralph her +arrival in town on the previous night. + + * * * * * + +She had gone through horrors since the June day on which she had seen +the two brothers together. With Margaret beside her she had watched +Master More in court, in his frieze gown, leaning on his stick, bent and +grey with imprisonment, had heard his clear answers, his searching +questions, and his merry conclusion after sentence had been pronounced; +she had stayed at home with the stricken family on the morning of the +sixth of July, kneeling with them at her prayers in the chapel of the +New Building, during the hours until Mr. Roper looked in grey-faced and +trembling, and they knew that all was over. She went with them to the +burial in St. Peter's Chapel in the Tower; and last, which was the most +dreadful ordeal of all, she had stood in the summer darkness by the +wicket-gate, had heard the cautious stroke of oars, and the footsteps +coming up the path, and had let Margaret in bearing her precious burden +robbed from the spike on London Bridge. + +Then for a while she had gone down to the country with Mrs. More and +her daughters; and now she was back once more, in a kind of psychical +convalescence, at her aunt's new house on the river-bank at Charing. + + * * * * * + +Her face was a little paler than it used to be, but there was a +quickening brightness in her eyes as she swept along in her blue mantle, +with her maid beside her, in the rear of the liveried servant, who +carried a silver-headed wand a few yards in front. + +She was rehearsing to herself the scene in which Ralph had asked her to +be his wife. + +Where Chris had left the room the two had remained perfectly still until +the street-door had closed; and then Ralph had turned to her with a +question in his steady eyes. + +She had told him then that she did not believe one word of what the monk +had insinuated; but she had been conscious even at the time that she was +making what theologians call an act of faith. It was not that there were +not difficulties to her in Ralph's position--there were plenty--but she +had determined by a final and swift decision to disregard them and +believe in him. It was a last step in a process that continued ever +since she had become interested by this strong brusque man; and it had +been precipitated by the fanatical attack to which she had just been a +witness. The discord, as she thought it, of Ralph's character and +actions had not been resolved; yet she had decided in that moment that +it need not be; that her data as concerned those actions were +insufficient; and that if she could not explain, at least she could +trust. + +Ralph had been very honest, she told herself now. He had reminded her +that he was a servant of Cromwell's whom many believed to be an enemy +of Church and State. She had nodded back to him steadily and silently, +knowing what would follow from the paleness of his face, and his bright +eyes beneath their wide lids. She had felt her own breast rise and fall +and a pulse begin to hammer at the spring of her throat. Even now as she +thought of it her heart quickened, and her hands clenched themselves. + +And then in one swift moment it had come. She had found her hands caught +fiercely, and her eyes imprisoned by his; and then all was over, and she +had given him an answer in a word. + +It had not been easy even after that. Cecily had questioned her more +than once. Mrs. More had said a few indiscreet things that had been hard +to bear; her own aunt had received the news in silence. + +But that was over now. The necessary consent on both sides had been +given; and here she was once more walking up the road to Westminster +with Ralph's image before her eyes, and Ralph himself a hundred yards +away. + + * * * * * + +She turned the last corner from the alley, passed up the little street, +and turned again across the little cobbled yard that lay before the +house. + +Mr. Morris was at the door as she came up, and he now stood aside. He +seemed doubtful. + +"Mr. Torridon has gentlemen with him, madam." + +"Then I will wait," said Beatrice serenely, and made a motion to come +in. The servant still half-hesitating opened the door wider; and +Beatrice and her maid went through into the little parlour on the right. + +As she passed in she heard voices from the other door. Mr. Morris's +footsteps went down the passage. + +She had not very long to wait. There was the sound of a carriage +driving up to the door presently, and her maid who sat in view of the +window glanced out. Her face grew solemn. + +"It is Master Cromwell's carriage," she said. + +Beatrice was conscious of a vague discomfort; Master Cromwell, in spite +of her efforts, was the shadowed side of Ralph's life. + +"Is he coming in?" she said. + +The maid peeped again. + +"No, madam." + +The door of the room they were in was not quite shut, and there was +still a faint murmur of voices from across the hall; but almost +immediately there was the sound of a lifted latch, and then Ralph's +voice clear and distinct. + +"I will see to it, my lord." + +Beatrice stood up, feeling a little uneasy. She fancied that perhaps she +ought not to be here; she remembered now the servant's slight air of +unwillingness to let her in. There was a footfall in the hall, and the +sound of talking; and as Mr. Morris's hasty step came up the passage, +the door was pushed abruptly open, and Ralph was looking into the room, +with one or two others beyond him. + +"I did not know," he began, and flushed a little, smiling and making as +if to close the door. But Cromwell's face, with its long upper lip and +close-set grey eyes, appeared over his shoulder, and Ralph turned round, +almost deprecatingly. + +"I beg your pardon, sir; this is Mistress Atherton, and her woman." + +Cromwell came forward into the room, with a kind of keen smile, in his +rich dress and chain. + +"Mistress Beatrice Atherton?" he said with a questioning deference; and +Ralph introduced them to one another. Beatrice was conscious of a good +deal of awkwardness. It was uncomfortable to be caught here, as if she +had come to spy out something. She felt herself flushing as she +explained that she had had no idea who was there. + +Cromwell looked at her very pleasantly. + +"There is nothing to ask pardon for, Mistress," he said. "I knew you +were a friend of Mr. Torridon. He has told me everything." + +Ralph seemed strangely ill-at-ease, Beatrice thought, as Cromwell +congratulated them both with a very kindly air, and then turned towards +the hall again. + +"My lord," he called, "my lord--" + +Then Beatrice saw a tall ecclesiastic, clean-shaven, with a strangely +insignificant but kindly face, with square drooping lip and narrow hazel +eyes, come forward in his prelate's dress; and at the sight of him her +eyes grew hard and her lips tight. + +"My lord," said Cromwell, "this is Mistress Beatrice Torridon." + +The prelate put out his hand, smiling faintly, with the ring uppermost +to be kissed. Beatrice stood perfectly still. She could see Ralph at an +angle looking at her imploringly. + +"You know my Lord of Canterbury," said Cromwell, in an explanatory +voice. + +"I know my Lord of Canterbury," said Beatrice. + +There was a dead silence for a moment, and then a faint whimper from the +maid. + +Cranmer dropped his hand, but still smiled, turning to Ralph. + +"We must be gone, Mr. Torridon. Master Cromwell has very kindly--" + +Cromwell who had stood amazed for a moment, turned round at his name. + +"Yes," he said to Ralph, "my lord is to come with me. And you will be +at my house to-morrow." + +He said good-day to the girl, looking at her with an amused interest +that made her flush; and as Dr. Cranmer passed out of the street-door to +the carriage with Ralph bare-headed beside him, he spoke very softly. + +"You are like the others, mistress," he said; and shook his heavy head +at her like an indulgent father. Then he too turned and went out. + + * * * * * + +Beatrice went across at once to the other room, leaving her maid behind, +and stood by the hearth as Ralph came in. She heard the door close and +his footstep come across the floor beside her. + +"Beatrice," said Ralph. + +She turned round and looked at him. + +"You must not scold me," she said with great serenity. "You must leave +me my conscience." Ralph's face cleared instantly. + +"No, no," he said. "I feared it would be the other way." + +"A married priest, they say!" remarked the girl, but without bitterness. + +"I daresay, my darling,--but--but I have more tenderness for marriage +than I had." + +Beatrice's black eyes just flickered with amusement. + +"Yes; but priests!" she said. + +"Yes--even priests--" said Ralph, smiling back. + +Beatrice turned to a chair and sat down. + +"I suppose I must not ask any questions," she said, glancing up for a +moment at Ralph's steady eyes. She thought he looked a little uneasy +still. + +"Oh! I scarcely know," said Ralph; and he took a turn across the room +and came back. She waited, knowing that she had already put her +question, and secretly pleased that he knew it, and was perplexed by it. + +"I scarcely know," he said again, standing opposite her. +"Well,--yes--all will know it soon." + +"Oh! I can wait till then," said Beatrice quickly, not sure whether she +were annoyed or not by being told a secret of such a common nature. +Ralph glanced at her, not sure either. + +"I am afraid--" he began. + +"No--no," she said, ashamed of her doubt. "I do not wish to know; I can +wait." + +"I will tell you," said Ralph. He went and sat down in the chair +opposite, crossing his legs. + +"It is about the Visitation of the Religious Houses. I am to go with the +Visitors in September." + +Beatrice felt a sudden and rather distressed interest; but she showed no +sign of it. + +"Ah, yes!" she said softly, "and what will be your work?" + +Ralph was reassured by her tone. + +"We are to go to the southern province. I am with Dr. Layton's party. We +shall make enquiries of the state of Religion, how it is observed and so +forth; and report to Master Cromwell." + +Beatrice looked down in a slightly side-long way. + +"I know what you are thinking," said Ralph, his tone a mixture of +amusement and pride. She looked up silently. + +"Yes I knew it was so," he went on, smiling straight at her. "You are +wondering what in the world I know about Religious Houses. But I have a +brother--" + +A shadow went over her face; Ralph saw she did not like the allusion. + +"Besides," he went on again, "they need intelligent men, not +ecclesiastics, for this business." + +"But Dr. Layton?" questioned Beatrice. + +"Well, you might call him an ecclesiastic; but you would scarcely guess +it from himself. And no man could call him a partisan on that side." + +"He would do better in one of his rectories, I should think," said +Beatrice. + +"Well, that is not my business," observed Ralph. + +"And what is your business?" + +"Well, to ride round the country; examine the Religious, and make +enquiries of the country folk." + +Beatrice began to tap her foot very softly. Ralph glanced down at the +bright buckle and smiled in spite of himself. + +The girl went on. + +"And by whose authority?" + +"By his Grace's authority." + +"And Dr. Cranmer's?" + +"Well, yes; so far as he has any." + +"I see," said Beatrice; and cast her eyes down again. + +There was silence for a moment or two. + +"You see too that I cannot withdraw," explained Ralph, a little +distressed at her air. "It is part of my duty." + +"Oh! I understand that," said Beatrice. + +"And so long as I act justly, there is no harm done." + +The girl was silent. + +"You understand that?" he asked. + +"I suppose I do," said Beatrice slowly. + +Ralph made a slight impatient movement. + +"No--wait," said the girl, "I do understand. If I cannot trust you, I +had better never have known you. I do understand that I can trust you; +though I cannot understand how you can do such work." + +She raised her eyes slowly to his; and Ralph as he looked into them saw +that she was perfectly sincere, and speaking without bitterness. + +"Sweetheart," he said. "I could not have taken that from any but you; +but I know that you are true, and mean no more nor less than your words. +You do trust me?" + +"Why, yes," said the girl; and smiled at him as he took her in his arms. + + * * * * * + +When she had gone again Ralph had a difficult quarter of an hour. + +He knew that she trusted him, but was it not simply because she did not +know? He sat and pondered the talk he had had with Cromwell and the +Archbishop. Neither had expressly said that what was wanted was adverse +testimony against the Religious Houses; but that, Ralph knew very well, +was what was asked of him. They had talked a great deal about the +corruptions that the Visitors would no doubt find, and Cranmer had told +a story or two, with an appearance of great distress, of scandalous +cases that had come under his own notice. Cromwell too had pointed out +that such corruptions did incalculable evil; and that an immoral monk +did far more harm in a countryside than his holy brethren could do of +good. Both had said a word too about the luxury and riches to be found +in the houses of those who professed poverty, and of the injury done to +Christ's holy religion by such insincere pretences. + +Ralph knew too, from previous meetings with the other Visitors, the kind +of work for which such men would be likely to be selected. + +There was Dr. Richard Layton first, whom Ralph was to join in Sussex at +the end of September, a priest who had two or three preferments and +notoriously neglected them; Ralph had taken a serious dislike to him. He +was a coarse man who knew how to cringe effectively; and Ralph had +listened to him talking to Cromwell, with some dismay. But he would be +to a large extent independent of him, and only in his company at some of +the larger houses that needed more than one Visitor. Thomas Legh, too, a +young doctor of civil law, was scarcely more attractive. He was a man of +an extraordinary arrogance, carrying his head high, and looking about +him with insolently drooping eyes. Ralph had been at once amused and +angry to see him go out into the street after his interview with +Cromwell, where his horse and half-a-dozen footmen awaited him, and to +watch him ride off with the airs of a vulgar prince. The Welshman Ap +Rice too, and the red-faced bully, Dr. London, were hardly persons whom +he desired as associates, and the others were not much better; and Ralph +found himself feeling a little thankful that none of these men had been +in his house just now, when Cromwell and the Archbishop had called in +the former's carriage, and when Beatrice had met them there. + + * * * * * + +Ralph had a moment, ten minutes after Beatrice had left, when he was +inclined to snatch up his hat and go after Cromwell to tell him to do +his own dirty work; but his training had told, and he had laughed at the +folly of the thought. Why, of course, the work had to be done! England +was rotten with dreams and superstition. Ecclesiasticism had corrupted +genuine human life, and national sanity could not be restored except by +a violent process. Innocent persons would no doubt suffer--innocent +according to conscience, but guilty against the commonwealth. Every +great movement towards good was bound to be attended by individual +catastrophes; but it was the part of a strong man to carry out +principles and despise details. + +The work had to be done; it was better then that there should be at +least one respectable workman. Of course such a work needed coarse men +to carry it out; it was bound to be accompanied by some brutality; and +his own presence there might do something to keep the brutality within +limits. + + * * * * * + +And as for Beatrice--well, Beatrice did not yet understand. If she +understood all as he did, she would sympathise, for she was strong too. +Besides--he had held her in his arms just now, and he knew that love was +king. + +But he sat for ten minutes more in silence, staring with unseeing eyes +at the huddled roofs opposite and the clear sky over them; and the point +of the quill in his fingers was split and cracked when Mr. Morris looked +in to see if his master wanted anything. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE BEGINNING OF THE VISITATION + + +It was on a wet foggy morning in October that Ralph set out with Mr. +Morris and a couple more servants to join Dr. Layton in the Sussex +visitation. He rode alone in front; and considered as he went. + + * * * * * + +The Visitation itself, Cromwell had told him almost explicitly, was in +pursuance of the King's policy to get the Religious Houses, which were +considered to be the strongholds of the papal power in England, under +the authority of the Crown; and also to obtain from them reinforcements +of the royal funds which were running sorely low. The crops were most +disappointing this year, and the King's tenants were wholly unable to +pay their rents; and it had been thought wiser to make up the deficit +from ecclesiastical wealth rather than to exasperate the Commons by a +direct call upon their resources. + +So far, he knew very well, the attempt to get the Religious Houses into +the King's power had only partially succeeded. Bishop Fisher's influence +had availed to stave off the fulfilment of the royal intentions up to +the present; and the oath of supremacy, in which to a large extent the +key of the situation lay, had been by no means universally accepted. +Now, however, the scheme was to be pushed forward; and as a preparation +for it, it was proposed to visit every monastery and convent in the +kingdom, and to render account first of the temporal wealth of each, +and then of the submissiveness of its inmates; and, as Cromwell had +hinted to Ralph, anything that could damage the character of the +Religious would not be unacceptable evidence. + +Ralph was aware that the scheme in which he was engaged was supported in +two ways; first, by the suspension of episcopal authority during the +course of the visitation, and secondly by the vast powers committed to +the visitors. In one of the saddle-bags strapped on to Mr. Morris's +horse was a sheaf of papers, containing eighty-six articles of enquiry, +and twenty-five injunctions, as well as certificates from the King +endowing Ralph with what was practically papal jurisdiction. He was +authorised to release from their vows all Religious who desired it, and +ordered to dismiss all who had been professed under twenty years of age, +or who were at the present date under twenty-four years old. Besides +this he was commissioned to enforce the enclosure with the utmost +rigour, to set porters at the doors to see that it was observed, and to +encourage all who had any grievance against their superiors to forward +complaints through himself to Cromwell. + +Ralph understood well enough the first object of these regulations, +namely to make monastic life impossible. It was pretty evident that a +rigorous confinement would breed discontent; which in its turn would be +bound to escape through the vent-hole which the power of appeal +provided; thus bringing about a state of anarchy within the house, and +the tightening of the hold of the civil authority upon the Religious. + +Lastly the Visitors were authorised to seize any church furniture or +jewels that they might judge would be better in secular custody. + +Once more, he had learned both from Cromwell, and from his own +experience at Paul's Cross, how the laity itself was being carefully +prepared for the blow that was impending, by an army of selected +preachers who could be trusted to say what they were told. Only a few +days before Ralph had halted his horse at the outskirts of a huge crowd +gathered round Paul's Cross, and had listened to a torrent of +vituperation poured out by a famous orator against the mendicant friars; +and from the faces and exclamations of the people round him he had +learned once more that greed was awake in England. + + * * * * * + +It was a somewhat dismal ride that he had this day. The sky was heavy +and overcast, it rained constantly, and the roads were in a more dreary +condition even than usual. He splashed along through the mud with his +servants behind him, wrapped in his cloak; and his own thoughts were not +of a sufficient cheerfulness to compensate for the external discomforts. +His political plane of thought was shot by a personal idea. He guessed +that he would have to commit himself in a manner that he had never done +before; and was not wholly confident that he would be able to explain +matters satisfactorily to Beatrice. Besides, the particular district to +which he was appointed included first Lewes, where Chris would have an +eye on his doings, and secondly the little Benedictine house of Rusper, +where his sister Margaret had been lately professed; and he wondered +what exactly would be his relation with his own family when his work was +done. + +But for the main object of his visitation he had little but sympathy. It +was good, he thought, that a scouring should be made of these idle +houses, and their inmates made more profitable to the commonwealth. And +lastly, whether or no he sympathised, it would be fatal to his career +to refuse the work offered to him. + +As he did not feel very confident at first, he had arranged to meet with +Dr. Layton's party at the Premonstratension Abbey of Durford, situated +at the borders of Sussex and Hampshire, and there learn the exact +methods to be employed in the visitation; but it was a long ride, and he +took two days over it, sleeping on the way at Waverly in the Cistercian +House. This had not yet been visited, as Dr. Layton was riding up +gradually from the west country, but the rumour of his intentions had +already reached there, and Ralph was received with a pathetic deference +as one of the representatives of the Royal Commission. + +The Abbot was a kindly nervous man, and welcomed Ralph with every sign +of respect at the gate of the abbey, giving contradictory orders about +the horses and the entertainment of the guests to his servants who +seemed in very little awe of him. + +After mass and breakfast on the following morning the Abbot came into +the guest-house and begged for a short interview. + + * * * * * + +He apologised first for the poorness of the entertainment, saying that +he had done his best. Ralph answered courteously; and the other went on +immediately, standing deferentially before the chair where Ralph was +seated, and fingering his cross. + +"I hope, Mr. Torridon, that it will be you who will visit us; you have +found us all unprepared, and you know that we are doing our best to keep +our Rule. I hope you found nothing that was not to your liking." + +Ralph bowed and smiled. + +"I would sooner that it were you," went on the Abbot, "and not another +that visited us. Dr. Layton--" + +He stopped abruptly, embarrassed. + +"You have heard something of him?" questioned Ralph. + +"I know nothing against him," said the other hastily, "except that they +say that he is sharp with us poor monks. I fear he would find a great +deal here not to his taste. My authority has been so much weakened of +late; I have some discontented brethren--not more than one or two, Mr. +Torridon--and they have learned that they will be able to appeal now to +the King's Grace, and get themselves set free; and they have ruined the +discipline of the house. I do not wish to hide anything, sir, you see; +but I am terribly afraid that Dr. Layton may be displeased." + +"I am very sorry, my lord," said Ralph, "but I fear I shall not be +coming here again." + +The Abbot's face fell. + +"But you will speak for us, sir, to Dr. Layton? I heard you say you +would be seeing him to-night." + +Ralph promised to do his best, and was overwhelmed with thanks. + +He could not help realising some of the pathos of the situation as he +rode on through the rain to Durford. It was plain that a wave of terror +and apprehensiveness was running through the Religious Houses, and that +it brought with it inevitable disorder. Lives that would have been +serene and contented under other circumstances were thrown off their +balance by the rumours of disturbance, and authority was weakened. If +the Rule was hard of observance in tranquil times, it was infinitely +harder when doors of escape presented themselves on all sides. + +And yet he was impatient too. Passive or wavering characters irritated +his own strong temperament, and he felt a kind of anger against the +Abbot and his feeble appeal. Surely men who had nothing else to do might +manage to keep their own subjects in order, and a weak crying for pity +was in itself an argument against their competence. And meanwhile, if he +had known it, he would have been still more incensed, for as he rode on +down towards the south west, the Abbot and his monks in the house he had +left were prostrate before the high altar in the dark church, each in +his stall, praying for mercy. + +"O God, the heathens are come into thine inheritance," they murmured, +"they have defiled thy holy temple." + + * * * * * + +It was not until the sun was going down in the stormy west that Ralph +rode up to Durford abbey. The rain had ceased an hour before sunset, and +the wet roofs shone in the evening light. + +There were certain signs of stir as he came up. One or two idlers were +standing outside the gate-house; the door was wide open, and a couple of +horses were being led away round the corner. + +Inside the court as he rode through he saw further signs of confusion. +Half a dozen packhorses were waiting with hanging heads outside the +stable door, and an agitated lay brother was explaining to a canon in +his white habit, rochet and cap, that there was no more room. He threw +out his hands with a gesture of despair towards Ralph as he came in. + +"Mother of God!" he said, "here is another of them." + +The priest frowned at him, and hurried up to Ralph. + +"Yes, father," said Ralph, "I am another of them." + +The canon explained that the stable was full, that they were +exceedingly sorry, but that they were but a poor house; and that he was +glad to say there was an outhouse round the corner outside where the +beasts could be lodged. + +"But as for yourself, sir," he said, "I know not what to do. We have +every room full. You are a friend of Dr. Layton's, sir?" + +"I am one of the Visitors," said Ralph. "You must make room." + +The priest sucked his lips in. + +"I see nothing for it," he said, "Dr. Layton and you, sir, must share a +room." + +Ralph threw a leg over the saddle and slipped to the ground. + +"Where is he?" he asked. + +"He is with my Lord Abbot, sir," he said. "Will you come with me?" + +The canon led the way across the court, his white fur tails swinging as +he went, and took Ralph through the cloister into one of the parlours. +There was a sound of a high scolding voice as he threw open the door. + +"What in God's name are ye for then, if ye have not hospitality?" + +Dr. Layton turned round as Ralph came in. He was flushed with passion; +his mouth worked, and his eyes were brutal. + +"See this, Mr. Torridon," he said. "There is neither room for man or +beast in this damned abbey. The guest house has no more than half a +dozen rooms, and the stable--why, it is not fit for pigs, let alone the +horses of the King's Visitors." + +The Abbot, a young man with a delicate face, very pale now and +trembling, broke in deprecatingly. + +"I am very sorry, gentlemen," he said, looking from one to the other, +"but it is not my fault. It is in better repair than when I came to it. +I have done my best with my Lord Abbot of Welbeck; but we are very poor, +and he can give me no more." + +Layton growled at him. + +"I don't say it's you, man; we shall know better when we have looked +into your accounts; but I'll have a word to say at Welbeck." + +"We are to share a room, Dr. Layton," put in Ralph "At least--" + +The doctor turned round again at that, and stormed once more. + +"I cannot help it, gentlemen," retorted the Abbot desperately. "I have +given up my own chamber already. I can but do my best." + +Ralph hastened to interpose. His mind revolted at this coarse bullying, +in spite of his contempt at this patient tolerance on the part of the +Abbot. + +"I shall do very well, my Lord Abbot," he said. "I shall give no +trouble. You may put me where you please." + +The young prelate looked at him gratefully. + +"We will do our best, sir," he said. "Will you come, gentlemen, and see +your chambers?" + +Layton explained to Ralph as they went along the poor little cloister +that he himself had only arrived an hour before. + +"I had a rare time among the monks," he whispered, "and have some tales +to make you laugh." + + * * * * * + +He grew impatient again presently at the poor furnishing of the rooms, +and kicked over a broken chair. + +"I will have something better than that," he said. "Get me one from the +church." + +The young Abbot faced him. + +"What do you want of us, Dr. Layton? Is it riches or poverty? Which +think you that Religious ought to have?" + +The priest gave a bark of laughter. + +"You have me there, my lord," he said; and nudged Ralph. + +They sat down to supper presently in the parlour downstairs, a couple of +dishes of meat, and a bottle of Spanish wine. Dr. Layton grew voluble. + +"I have a deal to tell you, Mr. Torridon," he said, "and not a few +things to show you,--silver crosses and such like; but those we will +look at to-morrow. I doubt whether we shall add much to it here, though +there is a relic-case that would look well on Master Cromwell's table; +it is all set with agates. But the tales you shall have now. My servant +will be here directly with the papers." + +A man came in presently with a bag of documents, and Layton seized them +eagerly. + +"See here, Mr. Torridon," he said, shaking the papers on to the table, +"here is a story-box for the ladies. Draw your chair to the fire." + +Ralph felt an increasing repugnance for the man; but he said nothing; +and brought up his seat to the wide hearth on which the logs burned +pleasantly in the cold little room. + +The priest lifted the bundle on to his lap, crossed his legs +comfortably, with a glass of wine at his elbow, and began to read. + + * * * * * + +For a while Ralph wondered how the man could have the effrontery to call +his notes by the name of evidence. They consisted of a string of obscene +guesses, founded upon circumstances that were certainly compatible with +guilt, but no less compatible with innocence. There was a quantity of +gossip gathered from country-people and coloured by the most flagrant +animus, and even so the witnesses did not agree. Such sentences as "It +is reported in the country round that the prior is a lewd man" were +frequent in the course of the reading, and were often the chief evidence +offered in a case. + +In one of the most categorical stories, Ralph leaned forward and +interrupted. + +"Forgive me, Master Layton," he said, "but who is Master What's-his-name +who says all this?" + +The priest waved the paper in the air. + +"A monk himself," he said, "a monk himself! That is the cream of it." + +"A monk!" exclaimed Ralph. + +"He was one till last year," explained the priest. + +"And then?" said the other. + +"He was expelled the monastery. He knew too much, you see." + +Ralph leaned back. + + * * * * * + +Half an hour later there was a change in his attitude: his doubts were +almost gone; the flood of detail was too vast to be dismissed as wholly +irrelevant; his imagination was affected by the evidence from without +and his will from within, and he listened without hostility, telling +himself that he desired only truth and justice. + +There were at least half a dozen stories in the mass of filthy suspicion +that the priest exultingly poured out which appeared convincing; +particularly one about which Ralph put a number of questions. + +In this there was first a quantity of vague evidence gathered from the +country-folk, who were, unless Layton lied quite unrestrainedly, +convinced of the immoral life of a certain monk. The report of his sin +had penetrated ten miles from the house where he lived. There was +besides definite testimony from one of his fellows, precise and +detailed; and there was lastly a half admission from the culprit +himself. All this was worked up with great skill--suggestive epithets +were plastered over the weak spots in the evidence; clever theories put +forward to account for certain incompatibilities; and to Ralph at least +it was convincing. + +He found himself growing hot with anger at the thought of the hypocrisy +of this monk's life. Here the fellow had been living in gross sin month +after month, and all the while standing at the altar morning by morning, +and going about in the habit of a professed servant of Jesus Christ! + +"But I have kept the cream till the last," put in Dr. Layton. And he +read out a few more hideous sentences, that set Ralph's heart heaving +with disgust. + +He began now to feel the beginnings of that fury against white-washed +vice with which worldly souls are so quick to burn. He would have said +that he himself professed no holiness beyond the average, and would have +acknowledged privately at least that he was at any rate uncertain of the +whole dogmatic scheme of religion; but that he could not tolerate a man +whose whole life was on the outside confessedly devoted to both sides of +religion, faith and morals, and who claimed the world's reverence for +himself on the score of it. He knit his forehead in a righteous fury, +and his fingers began to drum softly on his chair-arms. + +Dr. Layton now began to recur to some of the first stories he had told, +and to build up their weak places; and now that Ralph was roused his +critical faculty subsided. They appeared more convincing than before in +the light of this later evidence. _Ex pede Herculem_--from the fellow +who had confessed he interpreted the guilt of those who had not. The +seed of suspicion sprang quickly in the soil that hungered for it. + +This then was the fair religious system that was dispersed over England; +and this the interior life of those holy looking roofs and buildings +surmounted by the sign of the Crucified, visible in every town to point +men to God. When he saw a serene monk's face again he would know what +kind of soul it covered; he would understand as never before how vice +could wear a mask of virtue. + +The whole of that flimsy evidence that he had heard before took a new +colour; those hints and suspicions and guesses grew from shadow to +substance. Those dark spots were not casual filth dropped from above, +they were the symptoms of a deep internal infection. + +As Dr. Layton went on with his tales, gathered and garnered with +devilish adroitness, and presented as convincingly as a clever brain +could do it, the black certainty fell deeper and deeper on Ralph's soul, +and by the time that the priest chuckled for the last time that evening, +and gathered up his papers from the boards where they had fallen one by +one, he had done his work in another soul. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A HOUSE OF LADIES + + +They parted the next day, Dr. Layton to Waverly, where he proposed to +sleep on Saturday night, and Ralph to the convent at Rusper. + +He had learnt now how the work was to be done; and he had been equipped +for it in a way that not even Dr. Layton himself suspected; for he had +been set aflame with that filth-fed fire with which so many hearts were +burning at this time. He had all the saint's passion for purity, without +the charity of his holiness. + +He had learnt too the technical details of his work--those rough methods +by which men might be coerced, and the high-sounding phrases with which +to gild the coercion. All that morning he had sat side by side with Dr. +Layton in the chapter-house, inspecting the books, comparing the +possessions of the monastery with the inventories of them, examining +witnesses as to the credibility of the lists offered, and making +searching enquiries as to whether any land or plate had been sold. After +that, when a silver relic-case had been added to Dr. Layton's +collection, the Religious and servants and all else who cared to offer +evidence on other matters, were questioned one by one and their answers +entered in a book. Lastly, when the fees for the Visitation had been +collected, arrangements had been made, which in the Visitors' opinion, +would be most serviceable to the carrying out of the injunctions; fresh +officials were appointed to various posts, and the Abbot himself +ordered to go up to London and present himself to Master Cromwell; but +he was furnished with a letter commending his zeal and discretion, for +the Visitors had found that he had done his duty to the buildings and +lands; and stated that they had nothing to complain of except the +poverty of the house. + +"And so much for Durford," said Layton genially, as he closed the last +book just before dinner-time, "though it had been better called +Dirtyford." And he chuckled at his humour. + +After dinner he had gone out with Ralph to see him mount; had thanked +him for his assistance, and had reminded him that they would meet again +at Lewes in the course of a month or so. + +"God speed you!" he cried as the party rode off. + + * * * * * + +Ralph's fury had died to a glow, but it was red within him; the reading +last night had done its work well, driven home by the shrewd conviction +of a man of the world, experienced in the ways of vice. It had not died +with the dark. He could not say that he was attracted to Dr. Layton; the +priest's shocking familiarity with the more revolting forms of sin, as +well as his under-breeding and brutality, made him a disagreeable +character; but Ralph had very little doubt now that his judgment on the +religious houses was a right one. Even the nunneries, it seemed, were +not free from taint; there had been one or two terrible tales on the +previous evening; and Ralph was determined to spare them nothing, and at +any rate to remove his sister from their power. He remembered with +satisfaction that she was below the age specified, and that he would +have authority to dismiss her from the home. + +He knew very little of Margaret; and had scarcely seen her once in two +years. He had been already out in the world before she had ceased to be +a child, and from what little he had seen of her he had thought of her +but as little more than a milk-and-water creature, very delicate and +shy, always at her prayers, or trailing about after nuns with a pale +radiant face. She had been sent to Rusper for her education, and he +never saw her except now and then when they chanced to be at home +together for a few days. She used to look at him, he remembered, with +awe-stricken eyes and parted lips, hardly daring to speak when he was in +the room, continually to be met with going from or to the tall quiet +chapel. + +He had always supposed that she would be a nun, and had acquiesced in it +in a cynical sort of way; but he was going to acquiesce no longer now. +Of course she would sob, but equally of course she would not dare to +resist. + +He called Morris up to him presently as they emerged from one of the +bridle paths on to a kind of lane where two could ride abreast. The +servant had seemed oddly silent that morning. + +"We are going to Rusper," said Ralph. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Mistress Margaret is there." + +"Yes, sir." + +"She will come away with us. I may have to send you on to Overfield with +her. You must find a horse for her somehow." + +"Yes, sir." + +There was silence between the two for a minute or two. Mr. Morris had +answered with as much composure as if he had been told to brush a coat. +Ralph began to wonder what he really felt. + +"What do you think of all this, Morris?" he asked in a moment or two. + +The servant was silent, till Ralph glanced at him impatiently. + +"It is not for me to have an opinion, sir," said Mr Morris. + +Ralph gave a very short laugh. + +"You haven't heard what I have," he said, "or you would soon have an +opinion." + +"Yes, sir," said Morris as impassively as before. + +"I tell you--" and then Ralph broke off, and rode on silent and moody. +Mr. Morris gradually let his horse fall back behind his master. + + * * * * * + +They began to come towards Rusper as the evening drew in, by a bridle +path that led from the west, and on arriving at the village found that +they had overshot their mark, and ought to have turned sooner. The +nunnery, a man told them, was a mile away to the south-west. Ralph made +a few enquiries, and learnt that it was a smallish house, and that it +was scarcely likely that room could be found for his party of four; so +he left Morris to make enquiries for lodgings in the village, and +himself rode on alone to the nunnery, past the church and the +timberhouses. + +It was a bad road, and his tired horse had to pick his way very slowly, +so that it was nearly dark before he came to his destination, and the +pointed roofs rose before him against the faintly luminous western sky. +There were lights in one or two windows as he came up that looked warm +and homely in the chill darkness; and as he sat on his horse listening +to the jangle of the bell within, just a breath of doubtfulness touched +his heart for a moment as he thought of the peaceful home-life that lay +packed within those walls, and of the errand on which he had come. + +But the memory of the tales he had heard, haunted him still; and he +spoke in a harsh voice as the shutter slid back, and a little +criss-crossed square of light appeared in the black doorway. + +"I am one of the King's Visitors," he said. "Let my Lady Abbess know I +am here. I must speak with her." + +There was a stifled sound behind the grating; and Ralph caught a glimpse +of a pair of eyes looking at him. Then the square grew dark again. It +was a minute or two before anything further happened, and Ralph as he +sat cold and hungry on his horse, began to grow impatient. His hand was +on the twisted iron handle to ring again fiercely, when there was a step +within, and a light once more shone out. + +"Who is it?" said an old woman's voice, with a note of anxiety in it. + +"I have sent word in," said Ralph peevishly, "that I am one of the +King's Visitors. I should be obliged if I might not be kept here all +night." + +There was a moment's silence; the horse sighed sonorously. + +"How am I to know, sir?" said the voice again. + +"Because I tell you so," snapped Ralph. "And if more is wanted, my name +is Torridon. You have a sister of mine in there." + +There was an exclamation from within; and the sound of whispering; and +then hasty footsteps went softly across the paved court inside. + +The voice spoke again. + +"I ask your pardon, sir; but have you any paper--or--" + +Ralph snatched out a document of identification, and leaned forward +from his horse to pass it through the opening. He felt trembling fingers +take it from him; and a moment later heard returning footsteps. + +There was a rustle of paper, and then a whisper within. + +"Well, my dear?" + +Something shifted in the bright square, and it grew gloomy as a face +pressed up against the bars. Then again it shifted and the light shone +out, and a flutter of whispers followed. + +"Really, madam--" began Ralph; but there was the jingle of keys, and the +sound of panting, and almost immediately a bolt shot back, followed by +the noise of a key turning. A chorus of whispers broke out and a scurry +of footsteps, and then the door opened inwards and a little old woman +stood there in a black habit, her face swathed in white above and below. +The others had vanished. + +"I am very sorry, Mr. Torridon, to have kept you at the door; but we +have to be very careful. Will you bring your horse in, sir?" + +Ralph was a little abashed by the sudden development of the situation, +and explained that he had only come to announce his arrival; he had +supposed that there would not be room at the nunnery. + +"But we have a little guest-house here," announced the old lady with a +dignified air, "and room for your horse." + +Ralph hesitated; but he was tired and hungry. + +"Come in, Mr. Torridon. You had better dismount and lead your horse in. +Sister Anne will see to it." + +"Well, if you are sure--" began Ralph again, slipping a foot out of the +stirrup. + +"I am sure," said the Abbess; and stood aside for him and his beast to +pass. + +There was a little court, lighted by a single lamp burning within a +window, with the nunnery itself on one side, and a small cottage on the +other. Beyond the latter rose the roofs of an outhouse. + +As Ralph came in, the door from the nunnery opened again, and a lay +sister came out hastily; she moved straight across and took the horse by +the bridle. + +"Give him a good meal, sister," said the Abbess; and went past Ralph to +the door of the guest-house. + +"Come in, Mr. Torridon; there will be lights immediately." + + * * * * * + +In half an hour Ralph found himself at supper in the guest-parlour; a +bright fire crackled on the hearth, a couple of candles burned on the +table, and a pair of old darned green curtains hung across the low +window. + +The Abbess came in when he had finished, dismissed the lay-sister who +had waited on him, and sat down herself. + +"You shall see your sister to-morrow, Mr. Torridon," she said, "it is a +little late now. I have sent the boy up to the village for your servant; +he can sleep in this room if you wish. I fear we have no room for more." + +Ralph watched her as she talked. She was very old, with hanging cheeks, +and solemn little short-sighted eyes, for she peered at him now and +again across the candles. Her upper lip was covered with a slight growth +of dark hair. She seemed strangely harmless; and Ralph had another prick +of compunction as he thought of the news he had to give her on the +morrow. He wondered how much she knew. + +"We are so glad it is you, Mr. Torridon, that have come to visit us. We +feared it might be Dr. Layton; we have heard sad stories of him." + +Ralph hardened his heart. + +"He has only done his duty, Reverend Mother," he said. + +"Oh! but you cannot have heard," exclaimed the old lady. "He has robbed +several of our houses we hear--even the altar itself. And he has turned +away some of our nuns." + +Ralph was silent; he thought he would at least leave the old lady in +peace for this last night. She seemed to want no answer; but went on +expatiating on the horrors that were happening round them, the wicked +accusations brought against the Religious, and the Divine vengeance that +would surely fall on those who were responsible. + +Finally she turned and questioned him, with a mingling of deference and +dignity. + +"What do you wish from us, Mr. Torridon? You must tell me, that I may +see that everything is in order." + +Ralph was secretly amused by her air of innocent assurance. + +"That is my business, Reverend Mother. I must ask for all the books of +the house, with the account of any sales you may have effected, properly +recorded. I must have a list of the inmates of the house, with a +statement of any corrodies attached; and the names and ages and dates of +profession of all the Religious." + +The Abbess blinked for a moment. + +"Yes, Mr. Torridon. You will allow me of course to see all your papers +to-morrow; it is necessary for me to be certified that all your part is +in order." + +Ralph smiled a little grimly. + +"You shall see all that," he said. "And then there is more that I must +ask; but that will do for a beginning. When I have shown you my papers +you will see what it is that I want." + +There was a peal at the bell outside; the Abbess turned her head and +waited till there was a noise of bolts and unlocking. + +"That will be your man, sir. Will you have him in now, Mr. Torridon?" + +Ralph assented. + +"And then he must look at the horses to see that all is as you wish." + +Mr. Morris came in a moment later, and bowed with great deference to the +little old lady, who enquired his name. + +"When you have finished with your man, Mr. Torridon, perhaps you will +allow him to ring for me at the door opposite. I will go with him to see +the horses." + +Mr. Morris had brought with him the mass of his master's papers, and +when he had set these out and prepared the bedroom that opened out of +the guest-parlour, he asked leave to go across and fetch the Abbess. + +Ralph busied himself for half-an-hour or so in running over the Articles +and Injunctions once more, and satisfying himself that he was perfect in +his business; and he was just beginning to wonder why his servant had +not reappeared when the door opened once more, and Mr. Morris slipped +in. + +"My horse is a little lame, sir," he said. "I have been putting on a +poultice." + +Ralph glanced up. + +"He will be fit to travel, I suppose?" + +"In a day or two, Mr. Ralph." + +"Well; that will do. We shall be here till Monday at least." + + * * * * * + +Ralph could not sleep very well that night. The thought of his business +troubled him a little. It would have been easier if the Abbess had been +either more submissive or more defiant; but her air of mingled courtesy +and dignity affected him. Her innocence too had something touching in +it, and her apparent ignorance of what his visit meant. He had supped +excellently at her expense, waited on by a cheerful sister, and well +served from the kitchen and cellar; and the Reverend Mother herself had +come in and talked sensibly and bravely. He pictured to himself what +life must be like through the nunnery wall opposite--how brisk and +punctual it must be, and at the same time homely and caressing. + +And it was his hand that was to pull down the first prop. There would no +doubt be three or four nuns below age who must be dismissed, and +probably there would be a few treasures to be carried off, a +processional crucifix perhaps, such as he had seen in Dr. Layton's +collection, and a rich chalice or two, used on great days. His own +sister too must be one of those who must go. How would the little old +Abbess behave herself then? What would she say? Yet he comforted +himself, as he lay there in the clean, low-ceilinged room, staring at +the tiny crockery stoup gleaming against the door-post, by recollecting +the principle on which he had come. Possibly a few innocents would have +to suffer, a few old hearts be broken; but it was for a man to take such +things in his day's work. + +And then as he remembered Dr. Layton's tales, his heart grew hot and +hard again. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +AN UNEXPECTED MEETING + + +The enquiry was to be made in the guest-parlour on the next morning. + + * * * * * + +Ralph went to mass first at nine o'clock, which was said by a priest +from the parish church who acted as chaplain to the convent; and had a +chair set for him outside the nuns' choir from which he could see the +altar and the tall pointed window; and then, after some refreshment in +the guest-parlour, spread out his papers, and sat enthroned behind a +couple of tables, as at a tribunal. Mr. Morris stood deferentially by +his chair as the examination was conducted. + +Ralph was a little taken aback by the bearing of the Abbess. In the +course of the enquiry, when he was perplexed by one or two of the +records, she rose from her chair before the table, and came round to his +side, drawing up a seat as she did so; Ralph could hardly tell her to go +back, but his magisterial air was a little affected by having one whom +he almost considered as a culprit sitting judicially beside him. + +"It is better for me to be here," she said. "I can explain more easily +so." + + * * * * * + +There was a little orchard that the nuns had sold in the previous year; +and Ralph asked for an explanation. + +"It came from the Kingsford family," she said serenely; "it was useless +to us." + +"But--" began the inquisitor. + +"We needed some new vestments," she went on. "You will understand, Mr. +Torridon, that it was necessary for us to sell it. We are not rich +at all." + +There was nothing else that called for comment; except the manner in +which the books were kept. Ralph suggested some other method. + +"Dame Agnes has her own ways," said the old lady. "We must not disturb +her." + +And Dame Agnes assumed a profound and financial air on the other side of +the table. + +Presently Ralph put a mark in the inventory against a "cope of gold +bawdekin," and requested that it might be brought. + +The sister-sacristan rose at a word from the Abbess and went out, +returning presently with the vestment. She unfolded the coverings and +spread it out on the table before Ralph. + +It was a magnificent piece of work, of shimmering gold, with orphreys +embroidered with arms; and she stroked out its folds with obvious pride. + +"These are Warham's arms," observed the Abbess. "You know them, Mr. +Torridon? We worked these the month before his death." + +Ralph nodded briskly. + +"Will you kindly leave it here, Reverend Mother," he said. "I wish to +see it again presently." + +The Abbess gave no hint of discomposure, but signed to the sacristan to +place it over a chair at one side. + +There were a couple of other things that Ralph presently caused to be +fetched and laid aside--a precious mitre with a couple of cameos in +front, and bordered with emeralds, and a censer with silver filigree +work. + +Then came a more difficult business. + +"I wish to see the nuns one by one, Reverend Mother," he said. "I must +ask you to withdraw." + +The Abbess gave him a quick look, and then rose. + +"Very well, sir, I will send them in." And she went out with Mr. Morris +behind her. + +They came in one by one, and sat down before the table, with downcast +eyes, and hands hidden beneath their scapulars; and all told the same +tale, except one. They had nothing to complain of; they were happy; the +Rule was carefully observed; there were no scandals to be revealed; they +asked nothing but to be left in peace. But there was one who came in +nervously and anxiously towards the end, a woman with quick black eyes, +who glanced up and down and at the door as she sat down. Ralph put the +usual questions. + +"I wish to be released, sir," she said. "I am weary of the life, and +the--" she stopped and glanced swiftly up again at the commissioner. + +"Well?" said Ralph. + +"The papistical ways," she said. + +Ralph felt a sudden distrust of the woman; but he hardened his heart. He +set a mark opposite her name; she had been professed ten years, he saw +by the list. + +"Very well," he said; "I will tell my Lady Abbess." She still hesitated +a moment. + +"There will be a provision for me?" she asked + +"There will be a provision," said Ralph a little grimly. He was +authorised to offer in such cases a secular dress and a sum of five +shillings. + +Lastly came in Margaret herself. + +Ralph hardly knew her. He had been unable to distinguish her at mass, +and even now as she faced him in her black habit and white head-dress it +was hard to be certain of her identity. But memory and sight were +gradually reconciled; he remembered her delicate eyebrows and thin +straight lips; and when she spoke he knew her voice. + +They talked a minute or two about their home; but Ralph did not dare to +say too much, considering what he had yet to say. + +"I must ask you the questions," he said at last, smiling at her. + +She looked up at him nervously, and dropped her eyes once more. + +She nodded or shook her head in silence at each enquiry, until at last +one bearing upon the morals of the house came up; then she looked +swiftly up once more, and Ralph saw that her grey eyes were terrified. + +"You must tell me," he said; and put the question again. + +"I do not know what you mean," she answered, staring at him bewildered. + +Ralph went on immediately to the next. + +At last he reached the crisis. + +"Margaret," he said, "I have something to tell you." He stopped and +began to play with his pen. He had seldom felt so embarrassed as now in +the presence of this shy sister of his of whom he knew so little. He +could not look at her. + +"Margaret, you know, you--you are under age. The King's Grace has +ordered that all under twenty years of age are to leave their convents." + +There was a dead silence. + +Ralph was enraged with his own weakness. He had begun the morning's work +with such determination; but the strange sweet atmosphere of the house, +the file of women coming in one by one with their air of innocence and +defencelessness had affected him. In spite of himself his religious side +had asserted itself, and he found himself almost tremulous now. + +He made a great effort at self-repression, and looked up with hard +bright eyes at his sister. + +"There must be no crying or rebellion," he said. "You must come with me +to-morrow. I shall send you to Overfield." + +Still Margaret said nothing. She was staring at him now, white-faced +with parted lips. + +"You are the last?" he said with a touch of harshness, standing up with +his hands on the table. "Tell the Reverend Mother I have done." + +Then she rose too. + +"Ralph," she cried, "my brother! For Jesu's sake--" + +"Tell the Reverend Mother," he said again, his eyes hard with decision. + +She turned and went out without a word. + + * * * * * + +Ralph found the interview with the Abbess even more difficult than he +had expected. + +Once her face twitched with tears; but she drove them back bravely and +faced him again. + +"Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Torridon, that you intend to take your +sister away?" + +Ralph bowed. + +"And that Dame Martha has asked to be released?" + +Again he bowed. + +"Are you not afraid, sir, to do such work?" + +Ralph smiled bitterly. + +"I am not, Reverend Mother," he said. "I know too much." + +"From whom?" + +"Oh! not from your nuns," he said sharply, "they of course know nothing, +or at least will tell me nothing. It was from Dr. Layton." + +"And what did Dr. Layton tell you?" + +"I can hardly tell you that, Reverend Mother; it is not fit for your +ears." + +She looked at him steadily. + +"And you believe it?" + +Ralph smiled. + +"That makes no difference," he said. "I am acting by his Grace's +orders." + +There was silence for a moment. + +"Then may our Lord have mercy on you!" she said. + +She turned to where the gold cope gleamed over the chair, with the mitre +and censer lying on its folds. + +"And those too?" she asked. + +"Those too," said Ralph. + +She turned towards the door without a word. + +"There are the fees as well," remarked Ralph. "We can arrange those this +evening, Reverend Mother." + +The little stiff figure turned and waited at the door. "And at what time +will you dine, sir?" + +"Immediately," said Ralph. + + * * * * * + +He was served at dinner with the same courtesy as before; but the lay +sister's eyes were red, and her hands shook as she shifted the plates. +Neither spoke a word till towards the end of the meal. + +"Where is my man?" asked Ralph, who had not seen him since he had gone +out with the Abbess a couple of hours before. + +The sister shook her head. + +"Where is the Reverend Mother?" + +Again she shook her head. + +Ralph enquired the hour of Vespers, and when he had learnt it, took his +cap and went out to look for Mr. Morris. He went first to the little +dark outhouse, and peered in over the bottom half of the door, but there +was no sign of him there. He could see a horse standing in a stall +opposite, and tried to make out the second horse that he knew was there; +but it was too dark, and he turned away. + +It was a warm October afternoon as he went out through the gatehouse, +still and bright, with the mellow smell of dying leaves in the air; the +fields stretched away beyond the road into the blue distance as he went +along, and were backed by the thinning woods, still ruddy with the last +flames of autumn. Overhead the blue sky, washed with recent rains, +arched itself in a great transparent vault, and a stream of birds +crossed it from east to west. + +He went round the corner of the convent buildings and turned up into a +meadow beside a thick privet hedge that divided it from the garden, and +as he moved along he heard a low humming noise sounding from the other +side. + +There was a door in the hedge at the point, and at either side the +growth was a little thin, and he could look through without being +himself seen. + +The grass was trim and smooth inside; there was a mass of autumn +flowers, grown no doubt for the altar, running in a broad bed across the +nearer side of the garden, and beyond it rose a grey dial, round which +sat a circle of nuns. + +Ralph pressed his face to the hedge and watched. + +There they were, each with her wheel before her, spinning in silence. +The Abbess sat in the centre, immediately below the dial, with a book in +her hand, and was turning the pages. + +He could see a nun's face steadily bent on her wheel--that was Dame +Agnes who had fetched the cope for him in the morning. She seemed +perfectly quiet and unaffected, watching her thread, and putting out a +deft hand now and again to the machinery. Beside her sat another, whose +face he remembered well; she had stammered a little as she gave her +answers in the morning, and even as he looked the face twitched +suddenly, and broke into tears. He saw the Abbess turn from her book and +lay her hand, with a kind of tender decision on the nun's arm, and saw +her lips move, but the hum and rattle of the spinning-wheels was too +loud to let him hear what she said; he saw now the other nun lift her +face again from her hands, and wink away her tears as she laid hold of +the thread once more. + + * * * * * + +Ralph had a strange struggle with himself that afternoon as he walked on +in the pleasant autumn weather through meadow and copse. The sight of +the patient women had touched him profoundly. Surely it was almost too +much to ask him to turn away his own sister from the place she loved! If +he relented, it was certain that no other Visitor would come that way +for the present; she might at least have another year or two of peace. +Was it too late? + +He reminded himself again how such things were bound to happen; how +every change, however beneficial, must bring sorrow with it, and that to +turn back on such work because a few women suffered was not worthy of a +man. It was long before he could come to any decision, and the evening +was drawing on, and the time for Vespers come and gone before he turned +at last into the village to enquire for his servant. + +The other men had seen nothing of Mr. Morris that day; he had not been +back to the village. + +A group or two stared awefully at the fine gentleman with the strong +face and steady intolerant eyes, as he strode down the tiny street in +his rich dress, swinging his long silver-headed cane. They had learnt +who he was now, but were so overcome by seeing the King's Commissioner +that they forgot to salute him. As he turned the corner again he looked +round once more, and there they were still watching him. A few women had +come to the doors as well, and dropped their arched hands hastily and +disappeared as he turned. + +The convent seemed all as he had left it earlier in the afternoon, as he +came in sight of it again. The high chapel roof rose clear against the +reddening sky, with the bell framed in its turret distinct as if carved +out of cardboard against the splendour. + +He was admitted instantly when he rang on the bell, but the portress +seemed to look at him with a strange air of expectancy, and stood +looking after him as he went across the paved court to the door of the +guest-house. + +There was a murmur of voices in the parlour as he paused in the entry, +and he wondered who was within, but as his foot rang out the sound +ceased. + +He opened the door and went in; and then stopped bewildered. + +In the dim light that passed through the window stood his father and +Mary Maxwell, his sister. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +FATHER AND SON + + +None of the three spoke for a moment. + +Then Mary drew her breath sharply as she saw Ralph's face, for it had +hardened during that moment into a kind of blind obstinacy which she had +only seen once or twice in her life before. + +As he stood there he seemed to stiffen into resistance. His eyelids +drooped, and little lines showed themselves suddenly at either side of +his thin mouth. His father saw it too, for the hand that he had lifted +entreatingly sank again, and his voice was tremulous as he spoke. + +"Ralph--Ralph, my son!" he said. + +Still the man said nothing; but stood frozen, his face half-turned to +the windows. + +"Ralph, my son," said the other again, "you know why we have come." + +"You have come to hinder my business." + +His voice was thin and metallic, as rigid as steel. + +"We have come to hinder a great sin against God," said Sir James. + +Ralph opened his eyes wide with a sort of fury, and thrust his chin out. + +"She should pack a thousand times more now than before," he said. + +The father's face too deepened into strength now, and he drew himself +up. + +"Do you know what you are doing?" he said. + +"I do, sir." + +There was an extraordinary insolence in his voice, and Mary took a step +forward. + +"Oh! Ralph," she said, "at least do it like a gentleman!" + +Ralph turned on her sharply, and the obstinacy vanished in anger. + +"I will not be pushed like this," he snarled. "What right is it of yours +to come between me and my work?" + +Sir James made a quick imperious gesture, and his air of entreaty fell +from him like a cloak. + +"Sit down, sir," he said, and his voice rang strongly. "We have a right +in Margaret's affairs. We will say what we wish." + +Mary glanced at him: she had never seen her father like this before as +he stood in three quarter profile, rigid with decision. When she looked +at Ralph again, his face had tightened once more into obstinacy. He +answered Sir James with a kind of silky deference. + +"Of course, I will sit down, sir, and you shall say what you will." + +He went across the room and drew out a couple of chairs before the cold +hearth where the white ashes and logs of last night's fire still rested. +Sir James sat down with his back to the window so that Mary could not +see his face, and Ralph stood by the other chair a moment, facing her. + +"Sit down, Mary," he said. "Wait, I will have candles." + +He stepped back to the door and called to the portress, and then +returned, and seated himself deliberately, setting his cane in the +corner beside him. + +None of the three spoke again until the nun had come in with a couple of +candles that she set in the stands and lighted; then she went out +without glancing at anyone. Mary was sitting in the window seat, so the +curtains remained undrawn, and there was a mystical compound of twilight +and candle-light in the room. + +She had a flash of metaphor, and saw in it the meeting of the old and +new religions; the type of these two men, of whom the light of one was +fading, and the other waxing. The candlelight fell full on Ralph's face +that stood out against the whitewashed wall behind. + +Then she listened and watched with an intent interest. + + * * * * * + +"It is this," said Sir James, "we heard you were here--" + +Ralph smiled with one side of his mouth, so that his father could see +it. + +"I do not wish to do anything I should not," went on the old man, "or to +meddle in his Grace's matters--" + +"And you wish me not to meddle either, sir," put in Ralph. + +"Yes," said his father. "I am very willing to receive you and your wife +at home; to make any suitable provision; to give you half the house if +you wish for it; if you will only give up this accursed work." + +He was speaking with a tranquil deliberation; all the emotion and +passion seemed to have left his voice; but Mary, from behind, could see +his right hand clenched like a vice upon the knob of his chair-arm. It +seemed to her as if the two men had suddenly frozen into +self-repression. Their air was one of two acquaintances talking, not of +father and son. + +"And if not, sir?" asked Ralph with the same courtesy. + +"Wait," said his father, and he lifted his hand a moment and dropped it +again. He was speaking in short, sharp sentences. "I know that you have +great things before you, and that I am asking much from you. I do not +wish you to think that I am ignorant of that. If nothing else will do I +am willing to give up the house altogether to you and your wife. I do +not know about your mother." + +Mary drew her breath hard. The words were like an explosion in her soul, +and opened up unsuspected gulfs. Things must be desperate if her father +could speak like that. He had not hinted a word of this during that +silent strenuous ride they had had together when he had called for her +suddenly at Great Keynes earlier in the afternoon. She saw Ralph give a +quick stare at his father, and drop his eyes again. + +"You are very generous, sir," he said almost immediately, "but I do not +ask for a bribe." + +"You--you are unlike your master in that, then," said Sir James by an +irresistible impulse. + +Ralph's face stiffened yet more. + +"Then that is all, sir?" he asked. + +"I beg your pardon for saying that," added his father courteously. "It +should not have been said. It is not a bribe, however; it is an offer to +compensate for any loss you may incur." + +"Have you finished, sir?" + +"That is all I have to say on that point," said Sir James, "except--" + +"Well, sir?" + +"Except that I do not know how Mistress Atherton will take this story." + +Ralph's face grew a shade paler yet. But his lips snapped together, +though his eyes flinched. + +"That is a threat, sir." + +"That is as you please." + +A little pulse beat sharply in Ralph's cheek. He was looking with a +kind of steady fury at his father. But Mary thought she saw indecision +too in his eye-lids, which were quivering almost imperceptibly. + +"You have offered me a bribe and a threat, sir. Two insults. Have you a +third ready?" + +Mary heard a swift-drawn breath from her father, but he spoke quietly. + +"I have no more to say on that point," he said. + +"Then I must refuse," said Ralph instantly. "I see no reason to give up +my work. I have very hearty sympathy with it." + +The old man's hand twitched uncontrollably on his chair-arm for a +moment; he half lifted his hand, but he dropped it again. + +"Then as to Margaret," he went on in a moment. "I understand you had +intended to dismiss her from the convent?" + +Ralph bowed. + +"And where do you suggest that she should go?" + +"She must go home," said Ralph. + +"To Overfield?" + +Ralph assented. + +"Then I will not receive her," said Sir James. + +Mary started up. + +"Nor will Mary receive her," he added, half turning towards her. + +Mary Maxwell sat back at once. She thought she understood what he meant +now. + +Ralph stared at his father a moment before he too understood. Then he +saw the point, and riposted deftly. He shrugged his shoulders +ostentatiously as if to shake off responsibility. + +"Well, then, that is not my business; I shall give her a gown and five +shillings to-morrow, with the other one." + +The extraordinary brutality of the words struck Mary like a whip, but +Sir James met it. + +"That is for you to settle then," he said. "Only you need not send her +to Overfield or Great Keynes, for she will be sent back here at once." + +Ralph smiled with an air of tolerant incredulity. Sir James rose +briskly. + +"Come, Mary," he said, and turned his back abruptly on Ralph, "we must +find lodgings for to-night. The good nuns will not have room." + +As Mary looked at his face in the candlelight she was astonished by its +decision; there was not the smallest hint of yielding. It was very pale +but absolutely determined, and for the last time in her life she noticed +how like it was to Ralph's. The line of the lips was identical, and his +eyelids drooped now like his son's. + +Ralph too rose and then on a sudden she saw the resolute obstinacy fade +from his eyes and mouth. It was as if the spirit of one man had passed +into the other. + +"Father--" he said. + +She expected a rush of emotion into the old man's face, but there was +not a ripple. He paused a moment, but Ralph was silent. + +"I have no more to say to you, sir. And I beg that you will not come +home again." + +As they passed out into the entrance passage she turned again and saw +Ralph dazed and trembling at the table. Then they were out in the road +through the open gate and a long moan broke from her father. + +"Oh! God forgive me," he said, "have I failed?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A NUN'S DEFIANCE + + +It was a very strange evening that Mary and her father passed in the +little upstairs room looking on to the street at Rusper. + +Sir James had hardly spoken, and after supper had sat near the window, +with a curious alertness in his face. Mary knew that Chris was expected, +and that Mr. Morris had ridden on to fetch him after he had called at +Overfield, but from her short interview with Margaret she had seen that +his presence would not be required. The young nun, though bewildered and +stunned by the news that she must go, had not wavered for a moment as +regards her intention to follow out her Religious vocation in some +manner; and it was to confirm her in it, in case she hesitated, that Sir +James had sent on the servant to fetch Chris. + +It was all like a dreadful dream to Mary. + +She had gone out from dinner at her own house into the pleasant October +sunshine with her cheerful husband beside her, when her father had come +out through the house with his riding-whip in his hand; and in a few +seconds she had found herself plunged into new and passionate relations, +first with him, for she had never seen him so stirred, and then with her +brothers and sister. Ralph, that dignified man of affairs, suddenly +stepped into her mind as a formidable enemy of God and man; Chris +appeared as a spiritual power, and the quiet Margaret as the very centre +of the sudden storm. + +She sat here now by the fire, shading her face with her hand and +watching that familiar face set in hard and undreamed lines of passion +and resolution and expectancy. + +Once as footsteps came up the street he had started up and sat down +trembling. + +She waited till the steps went past, and then spoke. + +"Chris will be riding, father." + +He nodded abruptly, and she saw by his manner that it was not Chris he +was expecting. She understood then that he still had hopes of his other +son, but they sat on into the night in the deep stillness, till the fire +burned low and red, and the stars she had seen at the horizon wheeled up +and out of sight above the window-frame. + +Then he suddenly turned to her. + +"You must go to bed, Mary," he said. "I will wait for Chris." + +She lay long awake in the tiny cupboard-room that the labourer and his +wife had given up to her, hearing the horses stamp in the cold shed at +the back of the house, and the faces moved and turned like the colours +of a kaleidoscope. Now her father's eyes and mouth hung like a mask +before her, with that terrible look that had been on them as he faced +Ralph at the end; now Ralph's own face, defiant, icy, melting in turns; +now Margaret's with wide terrified eyes, as she had seen it in the +parlour that afternoon; now her own husband's. And the sweet autumn +woods and meadows lay before her as she had seen them during that silent +ride; the convent, the village, her own home with its square windows and +yew hedge--a hundred images. + + * * * * * + +There was a talking when she awoke for the last time and through the +crazy door glimmered a crack of grey dawn, and as she listened she knew +that Chris was come. + +It was a strange meeting when she came out a few minutes later. There +was the monk, unshaven and pale under the eyes, with his thinned face +that gave no smile as she came in; her father desperately white and +resolved; Mr. Morris, spruce and grave as usual sitting with his hat +between his knees behind the others;--he rose deferentially as she came +in and remained standing. + +Her father began abruptly as she appeared. + +"He can do nothing," he said, "he can but turn her on to the road. And I +do not think he will dare." + +"Ah! Beatrice Atherton?" questioned Mary, who had a clearer view of the +situation now. + +"Yes--Beatrice Atherton. He fears that we shall tell her. He cannot send +Margaret to Overfield or Great Keynes now." + +"And if he turns her out after all?" + +Sir James looked at her keenly. + +"We must leave the rest to God," he said. + +The village was well awake by the time that they had finished their talk +and had had something to eat. The drama at the convent had leaked out +through the boy who served the altar there, and a little group was +assembled opposite the windows of the cottage to which the monk had been +seen to ride up an hour or two before. It seemed strange that no priest +had been near them, but it was fairly evident that the terror was too +great. + +As the four came out on to the road, a clerical cap peeped for a moment +from the churchyard wall and disappeared again. + +They went down towards the convent along the grey road, in the pale +autumn morning air. Mary still seemed to herself to walk in a dream, +with her father and brother on either side masquerading in strange +character; the familiar atmosphere had been swept from them, the +background of association was gone, and they moved now in a new scene +with new parts to play that were bringing out powers which she had never +suspected in them. It seemed as if their essential souls had been laid +bare by a catastrophe, and that she had never known them before. + +For herself, she felt helpless and dazed; her own independence seemed +gone, and she was aware that her soul was leaning on those of the two +who walked beside her, and who were masculine and capable beyond all her +previous knowledge of them. + +Behind she heard a murmur of voices and footsteps of three or four +villagers who followed to see what would happen. + +She had no idea of what her father meant to do; it was incredible that +he should leave Margaret in the road with her gown and five shillings; +but it was yet more incredible that all his threats should be idle. Only +one thing emerged clearly, that he had thrown a heavier responsibility +upon Ralph than the latter had foreseen. Perhaps the rest must indeed be +left to God. She did not even know what he meant to do now, whether to +make one last effort with Ralph, or to leave him to himself; and she had +not dared to ask. + +They passed straight down together in silence to the convent-gate; and +were admitted immediately by the portress whose face was convulsed and +swollen. + +"They are to go," she sobbed. + +Sir James made a gesture, and passed in to the tiny lodge on the left +where the portress usually sat; Chris and Mary followed him in, and Mr. +Morris went across to the guest-house. + +The bell sounded out overhead for mass as they sat there in the dim +morning light, twenty or thirty strokes, and ceased; but there was no +movement from the little door of the guest-house across the court. The +portress had disappeared through the second door that led from the tiny +room in which they sat, into the precincts of the convent itself. + +Mary looked distractedly round her; at the little hatch that gave on to +the entrance gate, and the chain hanging by it that communicated with +one of the bolts, at the little crucifix that hung beside it, the +devotional book that lay on the shelf, the door into the convent with +the title "_Clausura_" inscribed above it. She glanced at her father and +brother. + +Sir James was sitting with his grey head in his hands, motionless and +soundless; Chris was standing upright and rigid, staring steadily out +through the window into the court. + +Then through the window she too saw Mr. Morris come out from the +guest-house and pass along to the stable. + +Again there was silence. + +The minutes went by, and the Saunce bell sounded three strokes from the +turret. Chris sank on to his knees, and a moment later Mary and her +father followed his example, and so the three remained in the dark +silent lodge, with no sound but their breathing, and once a sharp +whispered word of prayer from the old man. + +As the sacring bell sounded there was a sudden noise in the court, and +Mary lifted her head. + +From where she knelt she could see the two doors across the court, those +of the guest-house and the stable beyond, and simultaneously, out of the +one came Ralph, gloved and booted, with his cap on his head, and Mr. +Morris leading his horse out of the other. + +The servant lifted his cap at the sound of the bell, and dropped on to +his knees, still holding the bridle; his master stood as he was, and +looked at him. Mary could only see the latter's profile, but even that +was scornful and hard. + +Again the bell sounded; the mystery was done; and the servant stood up. + +As her father and Chris rose, Mary rose with them; and the three +remained in complete silence, watching the little scene in the court. + +Ralph made a sign; and the servant attached the bridle of the horse to a +ring beside the stable-door, and went past his master into the +guest-house with a deferential stoop of the shoulders. Ralph stood a +moment longer, and then followed him in. + +Then again the minutes went by. + +There was a sound of horse-hoofs on the road presently, and of talking +that grew louder. The hoofs ceased; there was a sharp peal on the bell; +and the talking began again. + +Chris glanced across at his father; but the old man shook his head; and +the three remained as they were, watching and listening. As the bell +rang out again impatiently, the door behind opened, and the portress +came swiftly through, followed by the Abbess. + +"Come quickly," the old lady whispered. "Sister Susan is going to let +them in." + +She stood aside, and made a motion to them to come through, and a moment +late the four were in the convent, and the door was shut behind them. + +"They are Mr. Torridon's men," whispered the Abbess, her eyes round with +excitement; "they are come to pack the things." + +She led them on through the narrow passage, up a stone flight of stairs +to the corridor that ran over the little cloister, and pushed open the +door of a cell. + +"Wait here," she said. "You can do no more. I will go down to them. You +are in the enclosure, but I cannot help it." + +And she had whisked out again, with an air of extraordinary composure, +shutting the door behind her. + +The three went across to the window, still speaking no word, and looked +down. + +The tiny court seemed half full of people now. There were three horses +there, besides Ralph's own marked by its rich saddle, and still attached +to the ring by the stable door, and a couple of men were busy loading +one of them with bundles. From one of these, which was badly packed, a +shimmering corner of gold cloth projected. + +Ralph was standing by the door of the guest-house watching, and making a +sign now and again with his whip. They could not see his face as he +stood so directly below them, only his rich cap and feather, and his +strong figure beneath. Mr. Morris was waiting now by his master's horse; +the portress was by her door. + +As they looked the little black and white figure of the Abbess came out +beneath them, and stood by the portress. + +The packing went on in silence. It was terrible to Mary to stand there +and watch the dumb-show tragedy, the wrecking and robbing of this +peaceful house; and yet there was nothing to be done. She knew that the +issues were in stronger hands than hers; she glanced piteously at her +father and brother on either side, but their faces were set and white, +and they did not turn at her movement. + +There was the sound of an opening door, and two women came out from the +convent at one side and stood waiting. One was in secular dress; the +other was still in her habit, but carried a long dark mantle across her +arm, and Mary caught her breath and bit her lip fiercely as she +recognised the second to be her sister. + +She felt she must cry out, and denounce the sacrilege, and made an +instinctive movement nearer the window, but in a moment her father's +hand was on her arm. + +"Be still, Mary: it is all well." + +One of the horses was being led away by now through the open door; and +the two others followed almost immediately; but the principal actors +were still in their places; the Abbess and the portress together on this +side; Ralph on that; and the two other women, a little apart from one +another, at the further end of the court. + +Then Ralph beckoned abruptly with his whip, and Mary saw her sister move +out towards the gate; she caught a glance of her face, and saw that her +lips were white and trembling, and her eyes full of agony. The other +woman followed briskly, and the two disappeared through to the road +outside. + +Again Ralph beckoned, and Mr. Morris brought up the horse that he had +now detached from the ring, and stood by its head, holding the +off-stirrup for his master to mount. Ralph gathered the reins into his +left hand, and for a moment they saw his face across the back of the +horse fierce and white; then he was up, and settling his right foot into +the stirrup. + +Mr. Morris let go, and stood back; and simultaneously Ralph struck him +with his riding-whip across the face, a furious back-handed slash. + +Mary cried out uncontrollably and shrank back; and a moment later her +father was leaning from the window, and she beside him. + +"You damned coward!" he shouted. "Morris, you are my servant now." + +Ralph did not turn his head an inch, and a moment later disappeared on +horse-back through the gate, and the portress had closed it behind him. + +The little court was silent now, and empty except for the Abbess' +motionless figure behind, with Mr. Morris beside her, and the lay sister +by the gate, her hand still on the key that she had turned, and her eyes +intent and expectant fixed on her superior. Mr. Morris lifted a +handkerchief now and again gently to his face, and Mary as she leaned +half sobbing from above saw that there were spots of crimson on the +white. + +"Oh! Morris!" she whispered. + +The servant looked up, with a great weal across one cheek, and bowed a +little, but he could not speak yet. Outside they could hear the jingle +of bridle-chains; and then a voice begin; but they could not distinguish +the words. + +It was Ralph speaking; but they could only guess what it was that he was +saying. Overhead the autumn sky was a vault of pale blue; and a bird or +two chirped briskly from the roof opposite. + +The voice outside grew louder, and ceased, and the noise of horse hoofs +broke out. + +Still there was no movement from any within. The Abbess was standing now +with one hand uplifted as if for silence, and Mary heard the hoofs sound +fainter up the road; they grew louder again as they reached higher +ground; and then ceased altogether. + +The old man touched Mary on the arm, and the three went out along the +little corridor, and down the stone stairs. + +As they passed through the lodge and came into the court Mary saw that +the Abbess had moved from her place, and was standing with the portress +close by the gate; her face was towards them, a little on one side, and +she seemed to be listening intently, her ear against the door, her lower +lip sucked in, and her eyes bright and vacant; she still held one hand +up for silence. + +Then there came a tiny tapping on the wood-work, and she instantly +turned and snatched at the key, and a moment later the door was wide. + +"Come in, my poor child," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +ST PANCRAS PRIORY + + +It was a little more than a month later that Ralph met his +fellow-Visitor at Lewes Priory. + +He had left Rusper in a storm of angry obstinacy, compelled by sheer +pride to do what he had not intended. The arrival of his father and Mary +there had had exactly the opposite effect to that which they hoped, and +Ralph had turned Margaret out of the convent simply because he could not +bear that they should think that he could be frightened from his +purpose. + +As he had ridden off on that October morning, leaving Margaret standing +outside with her cloak over her arm he had had a very sharp suspicion +that she would be received back again; but he had not felt himself +strong enough to take any further steps; so he contented himself with +sending in his report to Dr. Layton, knowing well that heavy punishment +would fall on the convent if it was discovered that the Abbess had +disobeyed the Visitors' injunctions. + +Then for a month or so he had ridden about the county, carrying off +spoils, appointing new officials, and doing the other duties assigned to +him; he was offered bribes again and again by superiors of Religious +Houses, but unlike his fellow-Visitors always refused them, and fell the +more hardly on those that offered them; he turned out numbers of young +Religious and released elder ones who desired it, and by the time that +he reached Lewes was fairly practised in the duties of his position. + +But the thought of the consequences of his action with regard to his +future seldom left him. He had alienated his family, and perhaps +Beatrice. As he rode once through Cuckfield, and caught a glimpse of the +woods above Overfield, glorious in their autumn livery, he wondered +whether he would ever find himself at home there again. It was a good +deal to give up; but he comforted himself with the thought of his own +career, and with the pleasant prospect of possessing some such house in +his own right when the work that he now understood had been +accomplished, and the monastic buildings were empty of occupants. + +He had received one letter, to his surprise, from his mother; that was +brought to him by a messenger in one of the houses where he stayed. It +informed him that he had the writer's approval, and that she was +thankful to have one son at least who was a man, and described further +how his father and Mary had come back, and without Margaret, and that +she supposed that the Abbess of Rusper had taken her back. + +"Go on, my son," she ended, "it will be all well. You cannot come home, +I know, while your father is in his present mind; but it is a dull place +and you lose nothing. When you are married it will be different. Mr. +Carleton is very tiresome, but it does not matter." + +Ralph smiled to himself as he thought of the life that must now be +proceeding at his home. + +He had written once to Beatrice, in a rather tentative tone, assuring +her that he was doing his best to be just and merciful, and professing +to take it for granted that she knew how to discount any exaggerated +stories of the Visitors' doings that might come to her ears. But he had +received no answer, and indeed had told her that he did not expect one, +for he was continually on the move and could give no fixed address. + +As he came up over the downs above Lewes he was conscious of a keen +excitement; this would be the biggest work he had undertaken, and it had +the additional zest of being a means of annoying his brother who had +provoked him so often. Since his quarrel with Chris in his own rooms in +the summer he had retained an angry contempt towards him. Chris had been +insolent and theatrical, he told himself, and had thrown off all claims +to tenderness, and Ralph's feelings towards him were not improved by the +information given him by one of his men that his brother had been +present at the scene at Rusper, no doubt summoned there by Morris, who +had proved such a desperate traitor to his master by slipping off to +Overfield on the morning of the Sunday. + +Ralph was very much puzzled at first by Morris's behaviour; the man had +always been respectful and obedient, but it was now evident to him that +he had been half-hearted all along, and still retained a superstitious +reverence for ecclesiastical things and persons; and although it was +very inconvenient and tiresome to lose him, yet it was better to be +inadequately than treacherously served. + + * * * * * + +Lewes Priory was a magnificent sight as Ralph came up on to the top of +the last shoulder below Mount Harry. The town lay below him in the deep, +cup-like hollow, piled house above house along the sides. Beyond it in +the evening light, against the rich autumn fields and the gleam of +water, towered up the tall church with the monastic buildings nestling +behind. + +The thought crossed his mind that it would do very well for himself; +the town was conveniently placed between London and the sea, within a +day's ride from either; there would be shops and company there, and the +priory itself would be a dignified and suitable house, when it had been +properly re-arranged. The only drawback would be Beatrice's +scrupulousness; but he had little doubt that ultimately that could be +overcome. It would be ridiculous for a single girl to set herself up +against the conviction of a country, and refuse to avail herself of the +advantages of a reform that was so sorely needed. She trusted him +already; and it would not need much persuasion he thought to convince +her mind as well as her heart. + +Of course Lewes Priory would be a great prize, and there would be many +applicants for it, and he realized that more than ever as he came up to +its splendid gateway and saw the high tower overhead, and the long tiled +roofs to the right; but his own relations with Cromwell were of the +best, and he decided that at least no harm could result from asking. + +It was with considerable excitement that he dismounted in the court, and +saw the throng of Dr. Layton's men going to and fro. As at Durford, so +here, his superior had arrived before him, and the place was already +astir. The riding-horses had been bestowed in the stables, and the +baggage-beasts were being now unloaded before the door of the +guest-house; there were servants going to and fro in Dr. Layton's +livery, with an anxious-faced monk or two here and there among them, and +a buzz and clatter rose on all sides. One of Dr. Layton's secretaries +who had been at Durford, recognised Ralph and came up immediately, +saluting him deferentially. + +"The doctor is with the Sub-Prior, sir," he said. "He gave orders that +you were to be brought to him as soon as you arrived, Mr. Torridon." + +Ralph followed him into the guest-house, and up the stairs up which +Chris had come at his first arrival, and was shown into the parlour. +There was a sound of voices as they approached the door, and as Ralph +entered he saw at once that Dr. Layton was busy at his work. + +"Come in, sir," he cried cheerfully from behind the table at which he +sat. "Here is desperate work for you and me. No less than rank treason, +Mr. Torridon." + +A monk was standing before the table, who turned nervously as Ralph came +in; he was a middle-aged man, grey-haired and brown-faced like a +foreigner, but his eyes were full of terror now, and his lips trembling +piteously. + +Ralph greeted Dr. Layton shortly, and sat down beside him. + +"Now, sir," went on the other, "your only hope is to submit yourself to +the King's clemency. You have confessed yourself to treason in your +preaching, and even if you did not, it would not signify, for I have the +accusation from the young man at Farley in my bag. You tell me you did +not know it was treason; but are you ready, sir, to tell the King's +Grace that?" + +The monk's eyes glanced from one to the other anxiously. Ralph could see +that he was desperately afraid. + +"Tell me that, sir," cried the doctor again, rapping the table with his +open hand. + +"I--I--what shall I do, sir?" stammered the monk. + +"You must throw yourself on the King's mercy, reverend father. And as a +beginning you must throw yourself on mine and Mr. Torridon's here. Now, +listen to this." + +Dr. Layton lifted one of the papers that lay before him and read it +aloud, looking severely at the monk over the top of it between the +sentences. It was in the form of a confession, and declared that on such +a date in the Priory Church of St Pancras at Lewes the undersigned had +preached treason, although ignorant that it was so, in the presence of +the Prior and community; and that the Prior, although he knew what was +to be said, and had heard the sermon in question, had neither forbidden +it beforehand nor denounced it afterwards, and that the undersigned +entreated the King's clemency for the fault and submitted himself +entirely to his Grace's judgment. + +"I--I dare not accuse my superior," stammered the monk. + +Dr. Layton glared at him, laying the paper down. + +"The question is," he cried, "which would you sooner offend--your Prior, +who will be prior no longer presently, or the King's Grace, who will +remain the King's Grace for many years yet, by the favour of God, and +who has moreover supreme rights of life and death. That is your choice, +reverend father."--He lifted the paper by the corners.--"You have only +to say the word, sir, and I tear up this paper, and write my own report +of the matter." + +The monk again glanced helplessly at the two men. Ralph had a touch of +contentment at the thought that this was Christopher's superior, ranged +like a naughty boy at the table, and looked at him coldly. Dr. Layton +made a swift gesture as if to tear the paper, and the Sub-Prior threw +out his hands. + +"I will sign it, sir," he said, "I will sign it." + +When the monk had left the room, leaving his signed confession behind +him, Dr. Layton turned beaming to Ralph. + +"Thank God!" he said piously. "I do not know what we should have done if +he had refused; but now we hold him and his prior too. How have you +fared, Mr. Torridon?" + +Ralph told him a little of his experiences since his last report, of a +nunnery where all but three had been either dismissed or released; of a +monastery where he had actually caught a drunken cellarer unconscious by +a barrel, and of another where he had reason to fear even worse crimes. + +"Write it all down, Mr. Torridon," cried the priest, "and do not spare +the adjectives. I have some fine tales for you myself. But we must +despatch this place first. We shall have grand sport in the +chapter-house to-morrow. This prior is a poor timid fellow, and we can +do what we will with him. Concealed treason is a sharp sword to threaten +him with." + +Ralph remarked presently that he had a brother a monk here. + +"But you can do what you like to him," he said. "I have no love for him. +He is an insolent fellow." + +Dr. Layton smiled pleasantly. + +"We will see what can be done," he said. + + * * * * * + +Ralph slept that night in the guest-house, in the same room that Chris +had occupied on his first coming. He awoke once at the sound of the +great bell from the tower calling the monks to the night-office, and +smiled at the fantastic folly of it all. His work during the last month +had erased the last remnants of superstitious fear, and to him now more +than ever the Religious Houses were but noisy rookeries, clamant with +bells and chanting, and foul with the refuse of idleness. The sooner +they were silenced and purged the better. + +He did not trouble to go to mass in the morning, but lay awake in the +white-washed room, hearing footsteps and voices below, and watching the +morning light brighten on the wall. He found himself wondering once or +twice what Chris was doing, and how he felt; he did not rise till one of +his men looked in to tell him that Dr. Layton would be ready for him in +half-an-hour, if he pleased. + +The chapter-house was a strange sight as he entered it from the +cloister. It was a high oblong chamber some fifty feet long, with arched +roof like a chapel, and a paved floor. On a dozen stones or so were cut +inscriptions recording the presence of bodies entombed below, among them +those of Earl William de Warenne and Gundrada, his wife, founders of the +priory five centuries ago. Ralph caught sight of the names as he strode +through the silent monks at the door and entered the chamber, talking +loudly with his fellow-Visitor. The tall vaulted room looked bare and +severe; the seats ran round it, raised on a step, and before the Prior's +chair beneath the crucifix stood a large table covered with papers. +Beneath it, and emerging on to the floor lay a great heap of vestments +and precious things which Dr. Layton had ordered to be piled there for +his inspection, and on the table itself for greater dignity burned two +tapers in massive silver candlesticks. + +"Sit here, Mr. Torridon," said the priest, himself taking the Prior's +chair, "we represent the supreme head of the Church of England now, you +must remember." + +And he smiled at the other with a solemn joy. + +He glanced over his papers, settled himself judicially, and then signed +to one of his men to call the monks in. His two secretaries seated +themselves at either end of the table that stood before their master. + +Then the two lines began to file in, in reverse order, as the doctor had +commanded; black silent figures with bowed heads buried in their hoods, +and their hands invisible in the great sleeves of their cowls. + +Ralph ran his eyes over them; there were men of all ages there, old +wrinkled faces, and smooth ones; but it was not until they were all +standing in their places that he recognised Chris. + +There stood the young man, at a stall near the door, his eyes bent down, +and his face deadly pale, his figure thin and rigid against the pale oak +panelling that rose up some eight feet from the floor. Ralph's heart +quickened with triumph. Ah! it was good to be here as judge, with that +brother of his as culprit! + +The Prior and Sub-prior, whose places were occupied, stood together in +the centre of the room, as the doctor had ordered. It was their case +that was to come first. + +There was an impressive silence; the two Visitors sat motionless, +looking severely round them; the secretaries had their clean paper +before them, and their pens, ready dipped, poised in their fingers. + +Then Dr. Layton began. + + * * * * * + +It was an inexpressibly painful task, he said, that he had before him; +the monks were not to think that he gloried in it, or loved to find +fault and impose punishments; and, in fact, nothing but the knowledge +that he was there as the representative of the supreme authority in +Church and State could have supplied to him the fortitude necessary for +the performance of so sad a task. + +Ralph marvelled at him as he listened. There was a solemn sound in the +man's face and voice, and dignity in his few and impressive gestures. It +could hardly be believed that he was not in earnest; and yet Ralph +remembered too the relish with which the man had dispersed his foul +tales the evening before, and the cackling laughter with which their +recital was accompanied. But it was all very wholesome for Chris, he +thought. + +"And now," said Dr. Layton, "I must lay before you this grievous matter. +It is one of whose end I dare not think, if it should come before the +King's Grace; and yet so it must come. It is no less a matter than +treason." + +His voice rang out with a melancholy triumph, and Ralph, looking at the +two monks who stood in the centre of the room, saw that they were both +as white as paper. The lips of the Prior were moving in a kind of +agonised entreaty, and his eyes rolled round. + +"You, sir," cried the doctor, glaring at the Sub-Prior, who dropped his +beseeching eyes at the fierce look, "you, sir, have committed the +crime--in ignorance, you tell me--but at least the crime of preaching in +this priory-church in the presence of his Grace's faithful subjects a +sermon attacking the King's most certain prerogatives. I can make +perhaps allowances for this--though I do not know whether his Grace will +do so--but I can make allowances for one so foolish as yourself carried +away by the drunkenness of words; but I can make none--none--" he +shouted, crashing his hand upon the table, "none for your superior who +stands beside you, and who forebore either to protest at the treason at +the time or to rebuke it afterwards." + +The Prior's hands rose and clasped themselves convulsively, but he made +no answer. + +Dr. Layton proceeded to read out the confession that he had wrung from +the monk the night before, down to the signature; then he called upon +him to come up. + +"Is this your name, sir?" he asked slowly. + +The Sub-Prior took the paper in his trembling hands. + +"It is sir," he said. + +"You hear it," cried the doctor, staring fiercely round the faces, "he +tells you he has subscribed it himself. Go back to your place, reverend +father, and thank our Lord that you had courage to do so. + +"And now, you, sir, Master Prior, what have you to say?" + +Dr. Layton dropped his voice as he spoke, and laid his fat hands +together on the table. The Prior looked up with the same dreadful +entreaty as before; his lips moved, but no sound came from them. The +monks round were deadly still; Ralph saw a swift glance or two exchanged +beneath the shrouding hoods, but no one moved. + +"I am waiting, my Lord Prior," cried Layton in a loud terrible voice. + +Again the Prior writhed his lips to speak. + +Dr. Layton rose abruptly and made a violent gesture. + +"Down on your knees, Master Prior, if you need mercy." + +There was a quick murmur and ripple along the two lines as the Prior +dropped suddenly on to his knees and covered his face with his hands. + +Dr. Layton threw out his hand with a passionate gesture and began to +speak--. + +"There, reverend fathers and brethren," he cried, "you see how low sin +brings a man. This fellow who calls himself prior was bold enough, I +daresay, in the church when treason was preached; and, I doubt not, has +been bold enough in private too when he thought none heard him but his +friends. But you see how treachery,--heinous treachery,--plucks the +spirit from him, and how lowly he carries himself when he knows that +true men are sitting in judgment over him. Take example from that, you +who have served him in the past; you need never fear him more now." + +Dr. Layton dropped his hand and sat down. For one moment Ralph saw the +kneeling man lift that white face again, but the doctor was at him +instantly. + +"Do not dare to rise, sir, till I give you leave," he roared. "You had +best be a penitent. Now tell me, sir, what you have to say. It shall not +be said that we condemned a man unheard. Eh! Mr. Torridon?" + +Ralph nodded sharply, and glanced at Chris; but his brother was staring +at the Prior. + +"Now then, sir," cried the doctor again. + +"I entreat you, Master Layton--" + +The Prior's voice was convulsed with terror as he cried this with +outstretched hands. + +"Yes, sir, I will hear you." + +"I entreat you, sir, not to tell his Grace. Indeed I am innocent"--his +voice rose thin and high in his panic--indeed, I did not know it was +treason that was preached." + +"Did not know?" sneered the doctor, leaning forward over the table. +"Why, you know your Faith, man--" + +"Master Layton, Master Layton; there be so many changes in these days--" + +"Changes!" shouted the priest; "there be no changes, except of such +knaves as you, Master-Prior; it is the old Faith now as ever. Do you +dare to call his Grace a heretic? Must that too go down in the charges?" + +"No, no, Master Layton," screamed the Prior, with his hands strained +forward and twitching fingers. "I did not mean that--Christ is my +witness!" + +"Is it not the same Faith, sir?" + +"Yes, Master Layton--yes--indeed, it is. But I did not know--how could I +know?" + +"Then why are you Prior," cried the doctor with a dramatic gesture, "if +it is not to keep your subjects true and obedient? Do you mean to tell +me--?" + +"I entreat you, sir, for the love of Mary, not to tell his Grace--" + +"Bah!" shouted Dr. Layton, "you may keep your breath till you tell his +Grace that himself. There is enough of this." Again he rose, and swept +his eyes round the white-faced monks. "I am weary of this work. The +fellow has not a word to say--" + +"Master Layton, Master Layton," cried the kneeling man once more, +lifting his hands on one of which gleamed the prelatical ring. + +"Silence, sir," roared the doctor. "It is I who am speaking now. We have +had enough of this work. It seems that there be no true men left, except +in the world; these houses are rotten with crime. Is it not so, Master +Torridon?--rotten with crime! But of all the knaves that I did ever +meet, and they are many and strong ones, I do believe Master Prior, that +you are the worst. Here is my sentence, and see that it be carried out. +You, Master Prior, and you Master Sub-Prior, are to appear before Master +Cromwell in his court on All-Hallows' Eve, and tell your tales to him. +You shall see if he be so soft as I; it may be that he will send you +before the King's Grace--that I know not--but at least he will know how +to get the truth out of you, if I cannot--" + +Once more the Prior broke in, in an agony of terror; but the doctor +silenced him in a moment. + +"Have I not given my sentence, sir? How dare you speak?" + +A murmur again ran round the room, and he lifted his hand furiously. + +"Silence," he shouted, "not one word from a mother's son of you. I have +had enough of sedition already. Clear the room, officer, and let not one +shaveling monk put his nose within again, until I send for him. I am +weary of them all--weary and broken-hearted." + +The doctor dropped back into his seat, with a face of profound disgust, +and passed his hand over his forehead. + +The monks turned at the signal from the door, and Ralph watched the +black lines once more file out. + +"There, Mr. Torridon," whispered the doctor behind his hand. "Did I not +tell you so? Master Cromwell will be able to do what he will with him." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +RALPH'S RETURN + + +The Visitation of Lewes Priory occupied a couple of days, as the estates +were so vast, and the account-books so numerous. + +In the afternoon following the scene in the chapter-house, Dr. Layton +and Ralph rode out to inspect some of the farms that were at hand, +leaving orders that the stock was to be driven up into the court the +next day, and did not return till dusk. The excitement in the town was +tremendous as they rode back through the ill-lighted streets, and as the +rumour ran along who the great gentlemen were that went along so gaily +with their servants behind them; and by the time that they reached the +priory-gate there was a considerable mob following in their train, +singing and shouting, in the highest spirits at the thought of the +plunder that would probably fall into their hands. + +Layton turned in his saddle at the door, and made them a little speech, +telling them how he was there with the authority of the King's Grace, +and would soon make a sweep of the place. + +"And there will be pickings," he cried, "pickings for us all! The widow +and the orphan have been robbed long enough; it is time to spoil the +fathers." + +There was a roar of amusement from the mob; and a shout or two was +raised for the King's Grace. + +"You must be patient," cried Dr. Layton, "and then no more taxes. You +can trust us, gentlemen, to do the King's work as it should be done." + +As he passed in through the lamp-lit entrance he turned to Ralph again. + +"You see, Mr. Torridon, we have the country behind us." + + * * * * * + +It was that evening that Ralph for the first time since the quarrel met +his brother face to face. + +He was passing through the cloister on his way to Dr. Layton's room, and +came past the refectory door just as the monks were gathering for +supper. He glanced in as he went, and had a glimpse of the clean solemn +hall, lighted with candles along the panelling, the long bare tables +laid ready, the Prior's chair and table at the further end and the great +fresco over it. A lay brother or two in aprons were going about their +business silently, and three or four black figures, who had already +entered, stood motionless along the raised dais on which the tables +stood. + +The monks had all stopped instantly as Ralph came among them, and had +lowered their hoods with their accustomed courtly deference to a guest; +and as he turned from his momentary pause at the refectory door in the +full blaze of light that shone from it, he met Chris face to face. + +The young monk had come up that instant, not noticing who was there, and +his hood was still over his head. There was a second's pause, and then +he lifted his hand and threw the hood back in salutation; and as Ralph +bowed and passed on he had a moment's sight of that thin face and the +large grey eyes in which there was not the faintest sign of recognition. + +Ralph's heart was hot with mingled emotion as he went up the cloister. +He was more disturbed by the sudden meeting, the act of courtesy, and +the cold steady eyes of this young fool of a brother than he cared to +recognise. + +He saw no more of him, except in the distance among his fellows; and he +left the house the next day when the business was done. + + * * * * * + +Matters in the rest of England were going forward with the same +promptitude as in Sussex. Dr. Layton himself had visited the West +earlier in the autumn, and the other Visitors were busy in other parts +of the country. The report was current now that the resources of all the +Religious Houses were to be certainly confiscated, and that those of the +inmates who still persisted in their vocation would have to do so under +the most rigorous conditions imaginable. The results were to be seen in +the enormous increase of beggars, deprived now of the hospitality they +were accustomed to receive; and the roads everywhere were thronged with +those who had been holders of corrodies, or daily sustenance in the +houses; as well as with the evicted Religious, some of whom, dismissed +against their will, were on their way to the universities, where, in +spite of the Visitation, it was thought that support was still to be +had; and others, less reputable, who preferred freedom to monastic +discipline. Yet others were to be met with, though not many in number, +who were on their way to London to lay complaints of various kinds +against their superiors. + +From these and like events the whole country was astir. Men gathered in +groups outside the village inns and discussed the situation, and feeling +ran high on the movements of the day. What chiefly encouraged the +malcontents was the fact that the benefits to be gained by the +dissolution of the monasteries were evident and present, while the +ill-results lay in the future. The great Religious Houses, their farms +and stock, the jewels of the treasury, were visible objects; men +actually laid eyes on them as they went to and from their work or knelt +at mass on Sundays; it was all so much wealth that did not belong to +them, and that might do so, while the corrodies, the daily hospitality, +the employment of labour, and such things, lay either out of sight, or +affected only certain individuals. Characters too that were chiefly +stirred by such arguments, were those of the noisy and self-assertive +faction; while those who saw a little deeper into things, and understood +the enormous charities of the Religious Houses and the manner in which +extreme poverty was kept in check by them,--even more, those who valued +the spiritual benefits that flowed from the fact of their existence, and +saw how life was kindled and inspired by these vast homes of +prayer--such, then as always, were those who would not voluntarily put +themselves forward in debate, or be able, when they did so, to use +arguments that would appeal to the village gatherings. Their natural +leaders too, the country clergy, who alone might have pointed out +effectively the considerations that lay beneath the surface had been +skilfully and peremptorily silenced by the episcopal withdrawing of all +preaching licenses. + + * * * * * + +In the course of Ralph's travels he came across, more than once, a hot +scene in the village inn, and was able to use his own personality and +prestige as a King's Visitor in the direction that he wished. + +He came for example one Saturday night to the little village of +Maresfield, near Fletching, and after seeing his horses and servants +bestowed, came into the parlour, where the magnates were assembled. +There were half a dozen there, sitting round the fire, who rose +respectfully as the great gentleman strode in, and eyed him with a +sudden awe as they realised from the landlord's winks and whispers that +he was of a very considerable importance. + +From the nature of his training Ralph had learnt how to deal with all +conditions of men; and by the time that he had finished supper, and +drawn his chair to the fire, they were talking freely again, as indeed +he had encouraged them to do, for they did not of course, any more than +the landlord, guess at his identity or his business there. + +Ralph soon brought the talk round again to the old subject, and asked +the opinions of the company as to the King's policy in the visitation of +the Religious Houses There was a general silence when he first opened +the debate, for they were dangerous times; but the gentleman's own +imperturbable air, his evident importance, and his friendliness, +conspired with the strong beer to open their mouths, and in five minutes +they were at it. + +One, a little old man in the corner who sat with crossed legs, nursing +his mug, declared that to his mind the whole thing was sacrilege; the +houses, he said, had been endowed to God's glory and service, and that +to turn them to other uses must bring a curse on the country. He went on +to remark--for Ralph deftly silenced the chorus of protest--that his own +people had been buried in the church of the Dominican friars at Arundel +for three generations, and that he was sorry for the man who laid hands +on the tomb of his grandfather--known as Uncle John--for the old man had +been a desperate churchman in his day, and would undoubtedly revenge +himself for any indignity offered to his bones. + +Ralph pointed out, with a considerate self-repression, that the +illustration was scarcely to the point, for the King's Grace had no +intention, he believed, of disturbing any one's bones; the question at +issue rather regarded flesh and blood. Then a chorus broke out, and the +hunt was up. + +One, the butcher, with many blessings invoked on King Harry's head, +declared that the country was being sucked dry by these rapacious +ecclesiastics; that the monks encroached every year on the common land, +absorbed the little farms, paid inadequate wages, and--which appeared +his principal grievance--killed their own meat. + +Ralph, with praiseworthy tolerance, pushed this last argument aside, but +appeared to reflect on the others as if they were new to him, though he +had heard them a hundred times, and used them fifty; and while he +weighed them, another took up the tale; told a scandalous story or two, +and asked how men who lived such lives as these which he related, could +be examples of chastity. + +Once more the little old man burst into the fray, and waving his pot in +an access of religious enthusiasm, rebuked the last speaker for his +readiness to pick up dirt, and himself instanced five or six Religious +known to him, whose lives were no less spotless than his own. + +Again Ralph interposed in his slow voice, and told them that that too +was not the point at issue. The question was not as to whether here and +there monks lived good lives or bad, for no one was compelled to imitate +either, but as to whether on the whole the existence of the Religious +Houses was profitable in such practical matters as agriculture, trade, +and the relief of the destitute. + +And so it went on, and Ralph began to grow weary of the inconsequence of +the debaters, and their entire inability to hold to the salient points; +but he still kept his hand on the rudder of the discussion, avoided the +fogs of the supernatural and religious on the one side towards which the +little old man persisted in pushing, and, on the other, the blunt views +of the butcher and the man who had told the foul stories; and contented +himself with watching and learning the opinion of the company rather +than contributing his own. + +Towards the end of the evening he observed two of his men, who had +slipped in and were sitting at the back of the little stifling room, +hugely enjoying the irony of the situation, and determined on ending the +discussion with an announcement of his own identity. + +Presently an opportunity occurred. The little old man had shown a +dangerous tendency to discourse on the suffering souls in purgatory, and +on the miseries inflicted on them by the cessation of masses and +suffrages for their welfare; and an uncomfortable awe-stricken silence +had fallen on the others. + +Ralph stood up abruptly, and began to speak, his bright tired eyes +shining down on the solemn faces, and his mouth set and precise. + +"Well, gentlemen," he said, "your talk has pleased me very much. I have +learned a great deal, and I hope shall profit by it. Some of you have +talked a quantity of nonsense; and you, Mr. Miggers, have talked the +most, about your uncle John's soul and bones." + +A deadly silence fell as these startling words were pronounced; for his +manner up to now had been conciliatory and almost apologetic. But he +went on imperturbably. + +"I am quite sure that Almighty God knows His business better than you or +I, Mr. Miggers; and if He cannot take care of Uncle John without the aid +of masses or dirges sung by fat-bellied monks--" + +He stopped abruptly, and a squirt of laughter burst from the butcher. + +"Well, this is my opinion," went on Ralph, "if you wish to know it. I +do not think, or suspect, as some of you do--but I _know_--as you will +allow presently that I do, when I tell you who I am--I _know_ that these +houses of which we have been speaking, are nothing better than +wasps'-nests. The fellows look holy enough in their liveries, they make +a deal of buzz, they go to and fro as if on business; but they make no +honey that is worth your while or mine to take. There is but one thing +that they have in their holes that is worth anything: and that is their +jewels and their gold, and the lead on their churches and the bells in +their towers. And all that, by the Grace of God we will soon have out of +them." + +There was a faint murmur of mingled applause and dissent. Mr. Miggers +stared vacant-faced at this preposterous stranger, and set his mug +resolutely down as a preparation for addressing him, but he had no +opportunity. Ralph was warmed now by his own eloquence, and swept on. + +"You think I do not know of what I am speaking? Well, I have a brother a +monk at Lewes, and a sister a nun at Rusper; and I have been brought up +in this religion until I am weary of it. My sister--well, she is like +other maidens of her kind--not a word to speak of any matter but our +Lady and the Saints and how many candles Saint Christopher likes. And my +brother!--Well, we can leave that. + +"I know these houses as none of you know them; I know how much wine they +drink, how much they charge for their masses, how much treasonable +chatter they carry on in private--I know their lives as I know my own; +and I know that they are rotten and useless altogether. They may give a +plateful or two in charity and a mug of beer; they gorge ten dishes +themselves, and swill a hogshead. They give a penny to the poor man, and +keep twenty nobles for themselves. They take field after field, house +after house; turn the farmer into the beggar, and the beggar into their +bedesman. And, by God! I say that the sooner King Henry gets rid of the +crew, the better for you and me!" + +Ralph snapped out the last words, and stared insolently down on the +gaping faces. Then he finished, standing by the door as he did so, with +his hand on the latch. + +"If you would know how I know all this, I will tell you. My name is +Torridon, of Overfield; and I am one of the King's Visitors. Good-night, +gentlemen." + +There was the silence of the grave within, as Ralph went upstairs +smiling to himself. + + * * * * * + +Ralph had intended returning home a week or two after the Lewes +visitation, but there was a good deal to be done, and Layton had pointed +out to him that even if some houses were visited twice over it would do +no harm to the rich monks to pay double fees; so it was not till +Christmas was a week away that he rode at last up to his house-door at +Westminster. + +His train had swelled to near a dozen men and horses by now, for he had +accumulated a good deal of treasure beside that which he had left in +Layton's hands, and it would not have been safe to travel with a smaller +escort; so it was a gay and imposing cavalcade that clattered through +the narrow streets. Ralph himself rode in front, in solitary dignity, +his weapon jingling at his stirrup, his feather spruce and bright above +his spare keen face; a couple of servants rode behind, fully armed and +formidable looking, and then the train came behind--beasts piled with +bundles that rustled and clinked suggestively, and the men who guarded +them gay with scraps of embroidery and a cheap jewel or two here and +there in their dress. + +But Ralph did not feel so gallant as he looked. During these long +country rides he had had too much time to think, and the thought of +Beatrice and of what she would say seldom left him. The very harshness +of his experiences, the rough faces round him, the dialect of the stable +and the inn, the coarse conversation--all served to make her image the +more gracious and alluring. It was a kind of worship, shot with passion, +that he felt for her. Her grave silences coincided with his own, her +tenderness yielded deliciously to his strength. + +As he sat over his fire with his men whispering behind him, planning as +they thought new assaults on the rich nests that they all hated and +coveted together, again and again it was Beatrice's face, and not that +of a shrewd or anxious monk, that burned in the red heart of the hearth. +He had seen it with downcast eyes, with the long lashes lying on the +cheek, and the curved red lips discreetly shut beneath; the masses of +black hair shadowed the forehead and darkened the secret that he wished +to read. Or he had watched her, like a jewel in a pig-sty, looking +across the foul-littered farm where he had had to sleep more than once +with his men about him; her black eyes looking into his own with tender +gravity, and her mouth trembling with speech. Or best of all, as he rode +along the bitter cold lanes at the fall of the day, the crowding yews +above him had parted and let her stand there, with her long skirts +rustling in the dry leaves, her slender figure blending with the +darkness, and her sweet face trusting and loving him out of the gloom. + +And then again, like the prick of a wound, the question had touched him, +how would she receive him when he came back with the monastic spoils on +his beasts' shoulders, and the wail of the nuns shrilling like the wind +behind? + +But by the time that he came back to London he had thought out his +method of meeting her. Probably she had had news of the doings of the +Visitors, perhaps of his own in particular; it was hardly possible that +his father had not written; she would ask for an explanation, and she +should have instead an appeal to her confidence. He would tell her that +sad things had indeed happened, that he had been forced to be present at +and even to carry out incidents which he deplored; but that he had done +his utmost to be merciful. It was rough work, he would say; but it was +work that had to be done; and since that was so--and this was Cromwell's +teaching--it was better that honourable gentlemen should do it. He had +not been able always to restrain the violence of his men--and for that +he needed forgiveness from her dear lips; and it would be easy enough to +tell stories against him that it would be hard to disprove; but if she +loved and trusted him, and he knew that she did, let her take his word +for it that no injustice had been deliberately done, that on the other +hand he had been the means under God of restraining many such acts, and +that his conscience was clear. + +It was a moving appeal, Ralph thought, and it almost convinced himself. +He was not conscious of any gross insincerity in the defence; of course +it was shaded artistically, and the more brutal details kept out of +sight, but in the main it was surely true. And, as he rehearsed its +points to himself once more in the streets of Westminster, he felt that +though there might be a painful moment or two, yet it would do his work. + + * * * * * + +He had sent a message home that he was coming, and the door of his home +was wide as he dismounted, and the pleasant light of candles shone out, +for the evening was smouldering to dark in the west. + +A crowd had collected as he went along; from every window faces were +leaning; and as he stood on the steps directing the removal of the +treasure into the house, he saw that the mob filled the tiny street, and +the cobbled space, from side to side. They were chiefly of the idling +class, folks who had little to do but to follow up excitements and +shout; and there were a good many cries raised for the King's Grace and +his Visitors, for such people as these were greedy for any movement that +might bring them gain, and the Religious Houses were beginning to be +more unpopular in town than ever. + +One of the bundles slipped as it was shifted, the cord came off, and in +a moment the little space beyond the mule before the door was covered +with gleaming stuff and jewels. + +There was a fierce scuffle and a cry, and Ralph was in a moment beyond +the mule with his sword out. He said nothing but stood there fierce and +alert as the crowd sucked back, and the servant gathered up the things. +There was no more trouble, for it had only been a spasmodic snatch at +the wealth, and a cheer or two was raised again among the grimy faces +that stared at the fine gentleman and the shining treasure. + +Ralph thought it better, however, to say a conciliatory word when the +things had been bestowed in the house, and the mules led away; and he +stood on the steps a moment alone before entering himself. + +The crowd listened complacently enough to the statements which they had +begun to believe from the fact of the incessant dinning of them into +their ears by the selected preachers at Paul's Cross and elsewhere; and +there was loud groan at the Pope's name. + +Ralph was ending with an incise peroration that he had delivered more +than once before. + +"You know all this, good people; and you shall know it better when the +work is done. Instead of the rich friars and monks we will have godly +citizens, each with his house and land. The King's Grace has promised +it, and you know that he keeps his word. We have had enough of the +jackdaws and their stolen goods; we will have honest birds instead. Only +be patient a little longer--" + +The listening silence was broken by a loud cry-- + +"You damned plundering hound--" + +A stone suddenly out of the gloom whizzed past Ralph and crashed through +the window behind. A great roaring rose in a moment, and the crowd +swayed and turned. + +Ralph felt his heart suddenly quicken, and his hand flew to his hilt +again, but there was no need for him to act. There were terrible screams +already rising from the seething twilight in front, as the stone-thrower +was seized and trampled. He stayed a moment longer, dropped his hilt and +went into the house. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +RALPH'S WELCOME + + +"You will show Mistress Atherton into the room below," said Ralph to his +man, "as soon as she comes." + +He was sitting on the morning following his arrival in his own chamber +upstairs. His table was a mass of papers, account-books, reckonings, +reports bearing on his Visitation journey, and he had been working at +them ever since he was dressed; for he had to present himself before +Cromwell in the course of a day or two, and the labour would be +enormous. + +The room below, opposite that in which he intended to see Beatrice and +where she had waited herself a few months before while he talked with +Cromwell and the Archbishop, was now occupied by his collection of plate +and vestments, and the key was in his own pocket. + +He had heard from his housekeeper on the previous evening that Beatrice +had called at the house during the afternoon, and had seemed surprised +to hear that he was to return that night; but she had said very little, +it appeared, and had only begged the woman to inform her master that she +would present herself at his house the next morning. + +And now Ralph was waiting for her. + +He was more ill-at-ease than he had expected to be. The events of the +evening before had given him a curious shock; and he cursed the whole +business--the snapping of the cord round the bundle, his own action and +words, the outrage that followed, and the death of the fellow that had +thrown the stone--for the body had been rescued by the watch a few +minutes later, a tattered crushed thing, beaten out of all likeness to a +man. One of the watch had stepped in to see Ralph as he sat at supper, +and had gone again saying the dog deserved it for daring to lift his +voice against the King and his will. + +But above all Ralph repented of his own words. There was no harm in +saying such things in the country; but it was foolish and rash to do so +in town. Cromwell's men should be silent and discreet, he knew, not +street-orators; and if he had had time to think he would not have +spoken. However the crowd was with him; there was plainly no one of any +importance there; it was unlikely that Cromwell himself would hear of +the incident; and perhaps after all no harm was done. + +Meanwhile there was Beatrice to reckon with, and Ralph laid down his pen +a dozen times that morning and rehearsed once more what he would have to +say to her. + +He was shrewd enough to know that it was his personality and not his +virtues or his views that had laid hold of this girl's soul. As it was +with him, so it was with her; each was far enough apart from the other +in all external matters; such things had been left behind a year ago; it +was not an affair of consonant tastes, but of passion. From each there +had looked deep inner eyes; there had been on either side a steady and +fearless scrutiny, and then the two souls had leapt together in a bright +flame of desire, knowing that each was made for the other. There had +been so little love-making, so few speeches after the first meeting or +two, so few letters exchanged, and fewer embraces. The last veils had +fallen at the fury of Chris's intervention, and they had known then what +had been inevitable all along. + +Ralph smiled to himself as he remembered how little he had said or she +had answered; there had been no need to say anything. And then his eyes +grew wide and passionate, and his hands gripped one another fiercely, as +the memory died, and the burning flame of desire flared within him again +from the deep well he bore in his heart. The world of affairs and +explanations and evasions faded into twilight, and there was but one +thing left, his love and hers. It was to that that he would appeal. + +He sat so a moment longer, and then took up his pen again, though it +shook in his hand, and went on with his reckonings. + + * * * * * + +He was perfectly composed half an hour later as he went downstairs to +meet her. He had finished his line of figures sedately when the man +looked in to say that she was below; and had sat yet a moment longer, +trying to remember mechanically what it was he had determined to tell +her. Bah! it was trifling and unimportant; words did not affect the +question; all the wrecked convents in the world could not touch the one +fact that lay in fire at his heart. He would say nothing; she would +understand. + +In the tiny entrance hall there was a whiff of fragrance where she had +passed through; and his heart stirred in answer. Then he opened the +door, stepped through and closed it behind him. + +She was standing upright by the hearth, and faced him as he entered. He +was aware of her blue mantle, her white, jewelled head-dress, one hand +gripping the mantel-shelf, her pale steady face and bright eyes. Behind +there was the warm rich panelling, and the leaping glow of the wood +fire. + +She made no movement. + +Outside the lane was filled with street noises, the cries of children, +the voices of men who went by talking, the rumble of a waggon coming +with the crack of whips and jingle of bells from the river. The wheels +came up and went past into silence again before either spoke or moved. + +Then Ralph lifted his hands a little and let them drop, as he stared at +her face. From her eyes looked out her will, tense as steel; and his own +shook to meet it. + +"Well?" she said at last; and her voice was perfectly steady. + +"Beatrice," cried Ralph; and the agony of it tore his heart. + +She dropped her hand to her side and still looked at him without +flinching. + +"Beatrice," cried Ralph once more. + +"Then you have no more to say--after last night?" + +A torrent of thoughts broke loose in his brain, and he tried to snatch +one as they fled past--to say one word. His excuses went by him like +phantoms; they bewildered and dazed him. Why, there were a thousand +things to say, and each was convincing if he could but say it. The cloud +passed and there were her eyes watching him still. + +"Then that is all?" she said. + +Again the cloud fell on him; little scenes piteously clear rose before +him, of the road by Rusper convent, Layton's leering face, a stripped +altar; and for each there was a tale if he could but tell it. And still +the bright eyes never flinched. + +It seemed to him as if she was watching him curiously; her lips were +parted, and her head was a little on one side; her face interested and +impersonal. + +"Why, Beatrice--" he cried again. + +Then her love shook her like a storm; he had never dreamed she could +look like that; her mouth shook; he could see her white teeth clenched; +and a shiver went over her. He took one step forward, but stopped again, +for the black eyes shone through the passion that swayed her, as keen +and remorseless as ever. + +He dropped on to his knees at the table and buried his face in his +hands. He knew nothing now but that he had lost her. + +That was her voice speaking now, as steady as her eyes; but he did not +hear a word she said. Words were nothing; they were not so much as those +cries from the street, that shrill boy's voice over the way; not so much +as the sighing crackle from the hearth where he had caused a fire to be +lighted lest she should feel cold. + +She was still speaking, but her voice had moved; she was no longer by +the fire. He could feel the warmth of the fire now on his hands. But he +dared not move nor look up; there was but one thing left for him--that +he had lost her! + +That was her hand on the latch; a breath of cold air stirred his hair; +and still she was speaking. He understood a little more now; she knew it +all--his doings--what he had said last night--and there was not one word +to say in answer. Her short lashing sentences fell on his defenceless +soul, but all sense was dead, and he watched with a dazed impersonalness +how each stroke went home, and yet he felt no pain or shame. + +She was going now; a picture stirred on the wall by the fire as the wind +rushed in through the open street door. + + * * * * * + +Then the door closed. + + + + +PART II + +THE FALL OF LEWES + + + + +CHAPTER I + +INTERNAL DISSENSION + + +The peace was gone from Lewes Priory. A wave had broken in through the +high wall from the world outside with the coming of the Visitors, and +had left wreckage behind, and swept out security as it went. The monks +knew now that their old privileges were gone with the treasures that +Layton had taken with him, and that although the wave had recoiled, it +would return again and sweep them all away. + +Upon none of them had the blow fallen more fiercely than on Chris; he +had tried to find peace, and instead was in the midst of storm. The high +barriers had gone, and with them the security of his own soul, and the +world that he thought he had left was grinning at the breach. + +It was piteous to him to see the Prior--that delicate, quiet prelate who +had held himself aloof in his dignities--now humbled by the shame of his +exposure in the chapter-house. The courage that Bishop Fisher had +restored to him in some measure was gone again; and it was miserable to +look at that white downcast face in the church and refectory, and to +recognise that all self-respect was gone. After his return from his +appearance before Cromwell he was more wretched than ever; it was known +that he had been sent back in contemptuous disgrace; but it was not +known how much he had promised in his terror for life. + +The house had lost too some half-dozen of its inmates. Two had +petitioned for release; three professed monks had been dismissed, and a +recent novice had been sent back to his home. Their places in the +stately choir were empty, and eloquent with warning; and in their stead +was a fantastic secular priest, appointed by the Visitors' authority, +who seldom said mass, and never attended choir; but was regular in the +refectory, and the chapter-house where he thundered St. Paul's epistles +at the monks, and commentaries of his own, in the hopes of turning them +from papistry to a purer faith. + +The news from outside echoed their own misery. Week after week the tales +poured in, of young and old dismissed back to the world whose ways they +had forgotten, of the rape of treasures priceless not only for their +intrinsic worth but for the love that had given and consecrated them +through years of devout service. There was not a house that had not lost +something; the King himself had sanctioned the work by taking precious +horns and a jewelled cross from Winchester. And worse than all that had +gone was the terror of what was yet to come. The world, which had been +creeping nearer, pausing and creeping on again, had at last passed the +boundaries and leapt to sacrilege. + +It was this terror that poisoned life. The sacristan who polished the +jewels that were left, handled them doubtfully now; the monk who +superintended the farm sickened as he made his plans for another year; +the scribe who sat in the carrel lost enthusiasm for his work; for the +jewels in a few months might be on royal fingers, the beasts in +strangers' sheds, and the illuminated leaves blowing over the cobbled +court, or wrapped round grocers' stores. + +Dom Anthony preached a sermon on patience one day in Christmastide, +telling his fellows that a man's life, and still less a monk's, +consisted not in the abundance of things that he possessed; and that +corporate, as well as individual, poverty, had been the ideal of the +monastic houses in earlier days. He was no great preacher, but the +people loved to hear his homely remarks, and there was a murmur of +sympathy as he pointed with a clumsy gesture to the lighted Crib that +had been erected at the foot of one of the great pillars in the nave. + +"Our Lady wore no cloth of gold," he said, "nor Saint Joseph a precious +mitre; and the blessed Redeemer Himself who made all things had but +straw to His bed. And if our new cope is gone, we can make our +processions in the old one, and please God no less. Nay, we may please +Him more perhaps, for He knows that it is by no will of ours that we do +so." + +But there had been a dismal scene at the chapter next morning. The Prior +had made them a speech, with a passionate white face and hands that +shook, and declared that the sermon would be their ruin yet if the +King's Grace heard of it. + +"There was a fellow that went out half-way through," he cried in panic, +"how do we know whether he is not talking with his Grace even now? I +will not have such sermons; and you shall be my witnesses that I said +so." + +The monks eyed one another miserably. How could they prosper under such +a prior as this? + +But worse was to follow, though it did not directly affect this house. +The bill, so long threatened, dissolving the smaller houses, was passed +in February by a Parliament carefully packed to carry out the King's +wishes, and from which the spiritual peers were excluded by his +"permission to them to absent themselves." Lewes Priory, of course, +exceeded the limit of revenue under which other houses were suppressed, +and even received one monk who had obtained permission to go there when +his community fell; but in spite of the apparent encouragement from the +preamble of the bill which stated that "in the great solemn monasteries +... religion was right well kept," it was felt that this act was but the +herald of another which should make an end of Religious Houses +altogether. + +But there was a breath of better news later on, when tidings came in the +early summer that Anne was in disgrace. It was well known that it was +her influence that egged the King on, and that there was none so fierce +against the old ways. Was it not possible that Henry might even yet +repent himself, if she were out of the way? + +Then the tidings were confirmed, and for a while there was hope. + + * * * * * + +Sir Nicholas Maxwell rode over to see Chris, and was admitted into one +of the parlours to talk with him. + +He seemed furiously excited, and hardly saluted his brother-in-law. + +"Chris," he said, "I have come straight from London with great news. The +King's harlot is fallen." + +Chris stared. + +"Dead?" he said. + +"Dead in a day or two, thank God!" + +He spat furiously. + +"God strike her!" he cried. "She has wrought all the mischief, I +believe. They told me so a year back, but I did not believe it." + +"And where is she?" + +Then Nicholas told his story, his ruddy comely face bright with +exultation, for he had no room for pity left. The rumours that had come +to Lewes were true. Anne had been arrested suddenly at Greenwich during +the sports, and had been sent straight to the Tower. The King was weary +of her, though she had borne him a child; and did not scruple to bring +the most odious charges against her. She had denied, and denied; but it +was useless. She had wept and laughed in prison, and called on God to +vindicate her; but the process went on none the less. The marriage had +been declared null and void by Dr. Cranmer who had blessed it; and now +she was condemned for sinning against it. + +"But she is either his wife," said Chris amazed, "or else she is not +guilty of adultery." + +Nicholas chuckled. + +"God save us, Chris; do you think Henry can't manage it?" + +Then he grew white with passion, and beat the table and damned the King +and Anne and Cranmer to hell together. + +Chris glanced up, drumming his fingers softly on the table. + +"Nick," he said, "there is no use in that. When is she to die?" + +The knight's face flushed again with pleasure, and he showed his teeth +set together. + +"Two days," he said, "please God, or three at the most. And she will not +meet those she has sent before her, or John Fisher whose head she had +brought to her--the bloody Herodias!" + +"Pray God that she will!" said Chris softly. "They will pray for her at +least." + +"Pah!" shouted Nicholas, "an eye for an eye for me!" + +Chris said nothing. He was thinking of all that this might mean. Who +could know what might not happen? Nicholas broke in again presently. + +"I heard a fine tale," he said, "do you know that the woman is in the +very room where she slept the night before the crowning? Last time it +was for the crown to be put on; now it is for the head to be taken off. +And it is true that she weeps and laughs. They can hear her laugh two +storeys away, I hear." + +"Nick," said Chris suddenly, "I am weary of that. Let her alone. Pray +God she may turn!" + +Nicholas stared astonished, and a little awed too. Chris used not to be +like this; he seemed quieter and stronger; he had never dared to speak +so before. + +"Yes; I am weary of this," said Chris again. "I stormed once at Ralph, +and gained nothing. We do not win by those weapons. Where is Ralph?" + +Nicholas knit his lips to keep in the fury that urged him. + +"He is with Cromwell still," he said venomously, "and very busy, I hear. +They will be making him a lord soon--but there will be no lady." + +Chris had heard of Beatrice's rejection of Ralph. + +"He is still busy?" + +"Why, yes; he worked long at this bill, I hear." + +Chris asked a few more questions, and learned that Ralph seemed fiercer +than ever since the Visitation. He was well-known at Court; had been +seen riding with the King; and it was supposed that he was rising +rapidly in favour every day. + +"God help him!" sighed Chris. + +The change that had come over Chris was very much marked. Neither a life +in the world would have done it, nor one in the peace of the cloister; +but an alternation of the two. He had been melted by the fire of the +inner life, and braced by the external bitterness of adversity. Ralph's +visit to the priory, culminating in the passionless salutation of him in +the cloister as being a guest and therefore a representative of Christ, +had ended that stage in the development of the monk's character. Chris +was disappointed in his brother, fearful for him and stern in his +attitude towards him; but he was not resentful. He was sincere when he +prayed God to help him. + +When Nicholas had eaten and gone, carrying messages to Mary, Chris told +the others, and there was a revival of hope in the house. + +Then a few days later came the news of Anne's death and of the marriage +of the King with Jane Seymour on the following day. At least Jane was a +lawful wife and queen in the Catholics' eyes, for Katharine too was +dead. + + * * * * * + +Chris had now passed through the minor orders, the sub-diaconate and the +diaconate, and was looking forward to priesthood. It had been thought +advisable by his superiors, in view of the troubled state of the times, +to apply for the necessary dispensations, and they had been granted +without difficulty. So many monks who were not priests had been turned +into the world resourceless, since they could not be appointed to +benefices, that it was thought only fair to one who was already bound by +vows of religion and sacred orders not to hold him back from an +opportunity to make his living, should affairs be pushed further in the +direction of dissolution. + +He was looking forward with an extraordinary zeal to the crown of +priesthood. It seemed to him a possession that would compensate for all +other losses. If he could but make the Body of the Lord, lift It before +the Throne, and hold It in his hands, all else was trifling. + +There were waves of ecstatic peace again breaking over his soul as he +thought of it; as he moved behind the celebrant at high mass, lifted the +pall of the chalice, and sang the exultant _Ite missa est_ when all was +done. What a power would be his on that day! He would have his finger +then on the huge engine of grace, and could turn it whither he would, +spraying infinite force on this and that soul, on Ralph stubbornly +fighting against God in London, on his mother silent and bitter at home, +on his father anxious and courageous, waiting for disaster, on Margaret +trembling in Rusper nunnery as she contemplated the defiance she had +flung in the King's face. + +The Prior had given him but little encouragement; he had sent for him +one day, and told him that he might prepare himself for priesthood by +Michaelmas, for a foreign bishop was coming to them, and leave would be +obtained for him to administer the rite. But he had not said a word of +counsel or congratulation; but had nodded to the young monk, and turned +his sickly face to the papers again on his table. + +Dom Anthony, the pleasant stout guest-master, who had preached the +sermon in Christmastide, said a word of comfort, as they walked in the +cloister together. + +"You must not take it amiss, brother," he said, "my Lord Prior is beside +himself with terror. He does not know how to act." + +Chris asked whether there were any new reason for alarm. + +"Oh, no!" said the monk, "but the people are getting cold towards us +here. You have seen how few come to mass here now, or to confession. +They are going to the secular priests instead." + +Chris remembered one or two other instances of this growing coldness. +The poor folks who came for food complained of its quality two or three +times; and one fellow, an old pensioner of the house, who had lost a +leg, threw his portion down on the doorstep. + +"I will have better than that some day," he had said, as he limped off. +Chris had gathered up the cold lentils patiently and carried them back +to the kitchen. + +On another day a farmer had flatly refused a favour to the monk who +superintended the priory-farm. + +"I will not have your beasts in my orchard," he had said roughly. "You +are not my masters." + +The congregations too were visibly declining, as the guest-master had +said. The great nave beyond the screen looked desolate in the +summer-mornings, as the sunlight lay in coloured patches on the wide +empty pavement between the few faithful gathered in front, and the half +dozen loungers who leaned in the shadow of the west wall--men who +fulfilled their obligation of hearing mass, with a determination to do +so with the least inconvenience to themselves, and who scuffled out +before the blessing. + +It was evident that the tide of faith and reverence was beginning to ebb +even in the quiet country towns. + +As the summer drew on the wider world too had its storms. A fierce +sermon was preached at the opening of Convocation, by Dr. Latimer, now +Bishop of Worcester, at the express desire of the Archbishop, that +scourged not only the regular but the secular clergy as well. The sermon +too was more furiously Protestant than any previously preached on such +an occasion; pilgrimages, the stipends for masses, image-worship, and +the use of an unknown tongue in divine service, were alike denounced as +contrary to the "pure gospel." The phrases of Luther were abundantly +used in the discourse; and it was evident, from the fact that no public +censure fell upon the preacher, that Henry's own religious views had +developed since the day that he had published his attack on the foreign +reformers. + +The proceedings of Convocation confirmed the suspicion that the sermon +aroused. With an astonishing compliance the clergy first ratified the +decree of nullity in the matter of Anne's marriage with the King, +disclaimed obedience to Rome, and presented a list of matters for which +they requested reform. In answer to this last point the King, assisted +by a couple of bishops, sent down to the houses, a month later, a paper +of articles to which the clergy instantly agreed. These articles +proceeded in the direction of Protestantism through omission rather than +affirmation. Baptism, Penance and the Sacrament of the Altar were spoken +of in Catholic terms; the other four sacraments were omitted altogether; +on the other hand, again, devotion to saints, image-worship, and prayers +for the departed were enjoined with important qualifications. + +Finally it was agreed to support the King in his refusal to be +represented at the proposed General Council at Mantua. + + * * * * * + +The tidings of all this, filtering in to the house at Lewes by priests +and Religious who stayed there from time to time, did not tend to +reassure those who looked for peace. The assault was not going to stop +at matters of discipline; it was dogma that was aimed at, and, worse +even than that, the foundation on which dogma rested. It was not an +affair of Religious Houses, or even of morality; there was concerned the +very Rock itself on which Christendom based all faith and morals. If it +was once admitted that a National Church, apart from the See of Rome, +could in the smallest degree adjudicate on a point of doctrine, the +unity of the Catholic Church as understood by every monk in the house, +was immediately ruptured. + +Again and again in chapter there were terrible scenes. The Prior raved +weakly, crying that it was not the part of a good Catholic to resist his +prince, that the Apostle himself enjoined obedience to those in +authority; that the new light of learning had illuminated perplexing +problems; and that in the uncertainty it was safer to follow the certain +duty of civil obedience. Dom Anthony answered that a greater than St. +Paul had bidden His followers to render to God the things that were +God's; that St. Peter was crucified sooner than obey Nero--and the Prior +cried out for silence; and that he could not hear his Christian King +likened to the heathen emperor. Monk after monk would rise; one +following his Prior, and disclaiming personal learning and +responsibility; another with ironic deference saying that a man's soul +was his own, and that not even a Religious Superior could release from +the biddings of conscience; another would balance himself between the +parties, declaring that the distinction of duties was insoluble; that in +such a case as this it was impossible to know what was due to God and +what to man. Yet another voice would rise from time to time declaring +that the tales that they heard were incredible; that it was impossible +that the King should intend such evil against the Church; he still heard +his three masses a day as he had always done; there was no more ardent +defender of the Sacrament of the Altar. + +Chris used to steady himself in this storm of words as well as he could, +by reflecting that he probably would not have to make a decision, for it +would be done for him, at least as regarded his life in the convent or +out, by his superiors. Or again he would fix his mind resolutely on his +approaching priesthood; while the Prior sat gnawing his lips, playing +with his cross and rapping his foot, before bursting out again and +bidding them all be silent, for they knew not what they were meddling +with. + +The misery rose to its climax when the Injunctions arrived; and the +chapter sat far into the morning, meeting again after dinner to consider +them. + +These were directions, issued to the clergy throughout the country, by +the authority of the King alone; and this very fact was significant of +what the Royal Supremacy meant. Some of them did not touch the +Religious, and were intended only for parish-priests; but others were +bitterly hard to receive. + +The community was informed that in future, once in every quarter, a +sermon was to be preached against the Bishop of Rome's usurped power; +the Ten Articles, previously issued, were to be brought before the +notice of the congregation; and careful instructions were to be given as +regards superstition in the matter of praying to the saints. It was the +first of these that caused the most strife. + +Dom Anthony, who was becoming more and more the leader of the +conservative party, pointed out that the See of Peter was to every +Catholic the root of authority and unity, and that Christianity itself +was imperilled if this rock were touched. + +The Prior angrily retorted that it was not the Holy See that was to be +assaulted, but the erection falsely raised upon it; it was the abuse of +power, not the use of it that had to be denounced. + +Dom Anthony requested the Prior to inform him where the line of +distinction lay; and the Prior in answer burst into angry explanations, +instancing the pecuniary demands of the Pope, the appointment of +foreigners to English benefices, and all the rest of the accusations +that were playing such a part now in the religious controversy of the +country. + +Dom Anthony replied that those were not the matters principally aimed at +by the Injunction; it concerned rather the whole constitution of +Christ's Church, and was a question of the Pope's or the King's +supremacy over that part of it that lay in England. + +Finally the debate was ended by the Prior's declaration that he could +trust no one to preach the enjoined sermon but himself, and that he +would see to it on his own responsibility. + +It was scarcely an inspiring atmosphere for one who was preparing to +take on him the burden of priesthood in the Catholic Church. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +SACERDOS IN AETERNUM + + +It was a day of wonderful autumn peace when Chris first sang mass in the +presence of the Community. + +The previous day he had received priesthood from the hands of the little +old French bishop in the priory church; one by one strange mystical +ceremonies had been performed; the stole had been shifted and crossed on +the breast, the token of Christ's yoke; the chasuble had been placed +over his head, looped behind; then the rolling cry to the Spirit of God +who alone seals to salvation and office had pealed round the high roof +and down the long nave that stretched away westwards in sunlit gloom; +while across the outstretched hands of the monk had been streaked the +sacred oil, giving him the power to bless the things of God. The hands +were bound up, as if to heal the indelible wound of love that had been +inflicted on them; and, before they were unbound, into the hampered +fingers were slid the sacred vessels of the altar, occupied now by the +elements of bread and wine; while the awful power to offer sacrifice for +the quick and the dead was committed to him in one tremendous phrase. + +Then the mass went on; and the new priest, kneeling with Dom Anthony at +a little bench set at the foot of the altar steps, repeated aloud with +the bishop the words of the liturgy from the great painted missal lying +before him. + +How strange it had been too when all was over! He stood by a pillar in +the nave, beneath St. Pancras's image, while all came to receive his +blessing. First, the Prior, pale and sullen, as always now; then the +Community, some smiling and looking into his eyes before they knelt, +some perfunctory, some solemn and sedate with downcast faces; each +kissed the fragrant hands, and stood aside, while the laity came up; and +first among them his father and Mary. + +His place too in the refectory had a flower or two laid beside it; and +the day had gone by in a bewildering dream. He had walked with his +father and sister a little, and had found himself smiling and silent in +their company. + +In the evening he had once more gone through the ceremonies of mass, Dom +Anthony stood by, and watched and reminded and criticised. And now the +morning was come, and he stood at the altar. + + * * * * * + +The little wind had dropped last night, and the hills round Lewes stood +in mellow sunlight; the atmosphere was full of light and warmth, that +tender glow that falls on autumn days; the trees in the court outside +stood, poised on the brink of sleep, with a yellow pallor tinging their +leaves; the thousand pigeons exulted and wheeled in the intoxicating +air. + +The shadowy church was alight with sunshine that streamed through the +clerestory windows on to the heavy pillars, the unevenly paved floor, +and crept down the recumbent figures of noble and bishop from head to +foot. There were a few people present beyond the screen, Sir James and +his daughter in front, watching with a tender reverence the harvesting +of the new priest, as he prepared to gather under his hands the mystical +wheat and grapes of God. + +Chris was perfectly practised in his ceremonies; and there was no +anxiety to dissipate the overpowering awe that lay on his soul. He felt +at once natural and unreal; it was supremely natural that he should be +here; he could not conceive being other than a priest; there was in him +a sense of a relaxed rather than an intensified strain; and yet the +whole matter was strange and intangible, as he felt the supernatural +forces gathering round, and surging through his soul. + +He was aware of a dusky sunlit space about him, of the glimmer of the +high candles; and nearer of the white cloth, the shining vessels, the +gorgeous missal, and the rustle of the ministers' vestments. But the +whole was shot with an inner life, each detail was significant and +sacramental; and he wondered sometimes at the inaudible vibration that +stirred the silent air round him, as he spoke the familiar words to +which he had listened so often. + +He kept his eyes resolutely down as he turned from time to time, +spreading his hands to the people, and was only partly conscious of the +faces watching him from the dark stalls in front and the sunlit nave +beyond. Even the sacred ministers, Dom Anthony and another, seemed to be +little more than crimson impersonal figures that moved and went about +their stately business with deft and gracious hands. + +As he began to penetrate more nearly to the heart of the mystery, and +the angels' song before the throne rolled up from the choir, there was +an experience of a yet further retirement from the things of sense. Even +the glittering halpas, and the gleams of light above it where the five +chapels branched behind--even these things became shrouded; there was +just a sheet of white beneath him, the glow of a chalice, and the pale +disc of the sacrificial bread. + +Then, as he paused, with hands together--"_famulorum famularumque +tuarum"_--there opened out the world where his spirit was bending its +intention. Figure after figure came up and passed before his closed +eyes, and on each he turned the beam of God's grace. First Ralph, +sneering and aloof in his rich dress, intent on some Satanic +business;--Chris seized as it were the power of God, and enveloped and +penetrated him with it. Then Margaret, waiting terrified on the divine +will; his mother in her complacent bitterness; Mary; his father--and as +he thought of him it seemed as if all God's blessings were not too +great; Nicholas; his own brethren in religion, his Prior, contracted and +paralysed with terror; Dom Anthony, with his pathetic geniality.... + +Ah! how short was the time; and yet so long that the Prior looked up +sharply, and the deacon shifted in his rustling silk. + +Then again the hands opened, and the stately flood of petition poured +on, as through open gates to the boundless sea that awaited it, where +the very heart of God was to absorb it into Itself. + +The great names began to flit past, like palaces on a river-brink, their +bases washed by the pouring liturgy--Peter and Paul, Simon and Thaddeus, +Cosmas and Damian--vast pleasure houses alight with God, while near at +hand now gleamed the line of the infinite ocean. + +The hands came together, arched in blessing; and it marked the first +sting of the healing water, as the Divine Essence pushed forward to meet +man's need. + +_"Hanc igitur oblationem ..._" + +Then followed the swift silent signs, as if the pilot were ordering +sails out to meet the breeze. + +The muttering voice sank to a deliberate whisper, the ripples ceased to +leap as the river widened, and Chris was delicately fingering the white +linen before taking the Host into his hands. + +There was a swift glance up, as to the great Sun that burned overhead, +one more noiseless sign, and he sank forward in unutterable awe, with +his arms on the altar, and the white disc, hovering on the brink of +non-existence, beneath his eyes. + + * * * * * + +The faintest whisper rose from behind as the people shifted their +constrained attitudes. Sir James glanced up, his eyes full of tears, at +the distant crimson figure beneath the steady row of lights, motionless +with outspread hands, poised over the bosom of God's Love. + +The first murmured words broke the silence; as if next to the Infinite +Pity rose up the infinite need of man--_Nobis quoque peccatoribus_--and +sank to silence again. + +Then loud and clear rang out _Per omnia saecula saeculorum;_ and the +choir of monks sang _Amen_. + +So the great mystery moved on, but upborne now by the very Presence +itself that sustained all things. From the limitless sea of mercy, the +children cried through the priest's lips to their Father who was in +heaven, and entreated the Lamb of God who takes away sin to have mercy +on them and give them peace. + +Then from far beyond the screen Mary could see how the priest leaning a +little forward towards That which he bore in his hands, looked on what +he bore in them; and she whispered softly with him the words that he was +speaking. _Ave in aeternum sanctissima caro Christi_ ... + +Again she hid her face; and when she raised it once, all was over, and +the Lord had entered and sanctified the body and soul of the man at +whose words He had entered the creature of bread. + +The father and daughter stood together silently in the sunshine outside +the west end of the church, waiting for Chris. He had promised to come +to them there for a moment when his thanksgiving was done. + +Beyond the wall, and the guest-house where the Visitors had lived those +two disastrous days, rose up the far sunlit downs, shadowed here and +there with cup-like hollows, standing like the walls about Jerusalem. + +As they turned, on the right above the red roofs of the town, rose the +downs again, vast slopes and shoulders, over which Chris had ridden so +short a while ago bearded and brown with hunting. It was over there that +Ralph had come, through that dip, which seemed against the skyline a +breach in a high wall. + +Ah! surely God would spare this place; so stately and quiet, so +graciously sheltered by the defences that He Himself had raised! If all +England tottered and fell, this at least might stand, this vast home of +prayer that stirred day and night with the praises of the Eternal and +the petitions of the mortal--this glorious house where a priest so dear +to them had brought forth from his mystical paternity the very Son of +God! + +The door opened behind them, and Chris came out pale and smiling with a +little anxious-eyed monk beside him. His eyes lightened as he saw them +standing there; but he turned again for a moment. + +"Yes--father," he said. "What was it?" + +"You stayed too long," said the other, "at the _famularumque tuarum_; +the rubric says _nullus nimis immoretur_, you know;--_nimis immoretur_." + +"Yes," said Chris. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE NORTHERN RISING + + +A few of the smaller Religious houses had surrendered themselves to the +King before the passing of the bill in the early spring; and the rest of +them were gradually yielded up after its enactment during the summer of +the same year; and among them was Rusper. Chris heard that his sister +Margaret had returned to Overfield, and would stay there for the +present. + +Throughout the whole of England there were the same scenes to be +witnessed. A troop of men, headed by a Commissioner, would ride up one +evening to some village where a little convent stood, demand entrance at +the gate, pass through, and disappear from the eyes of the watching +crowd. Then the next day the work would begin; the lead would be +stripped from the church and buildings; the treasures corded in bundles; +the woodwork of the interior put up to auction on the village green; and +a few days later the troop would disappear again, heavily laden, leaving +behind roofless walls, and bewildered Religious in their new secular +dress with a few shillings in their pockets, staring after the rich +cavalcade and wondering what was best to do. + +It had been hoped that the King would stay his hand at the death of +Anne, and even yet return to the obedience of the Holy See. The Pope was +encouraged to think so by the authorities on the continent, and in +England itself there prevailed even confidence that a return to the old +ways would be effected. But Henry had gone too far; he had drunk too +deeply of the wealth that lay waiting for him in the treasuries of the +Religious houses, and after a pause of expectation he set his hand to +the cup again. It was but natural too, and for more noble motives, to +such a character as his. As he had aimed in his youth at nothing less +than supremacy in tennis, hunting and tourney, and later in +architecture, music and theological reputation; as, for the same reason +Wolsey had fallen, when the King looked away from girls and sports to +the fiercer game of politics; so now it was intolerable to Henry that +there should be even the shadow of a spiritual independence within his +domain. + +A glow of resentful disappointment swept through the North of England at +the news. It burst out into flame in Lincolnshire, and was not finally +quenched until the early summer of the following year. + + * * * * * + +The news that reached Lewes from time to time during the winter and +spring sent the hearts of all that heard it through the whole gamut of +emotions. At one time fierce hope, then despair, then rising confidence, +then again blank hopelessness--each in turn tore the souls of the monks; +and misery reached its climax in the summer at the news of the execution +at Tyburn of the Abbots of Jervaulx and Fountains, with other monks and +gentlemen. + +The final recital of the whole tragedy was delivered to them at the +mouth of a Religious from the Benedictine cell at Middlesborough who had +been released by the Visitors at his own request, but who had afterwards +repented and joined the rising soon after the outset; he had been +through most of the incidents, and then when failure was assured had +fled south in terror for his life, and was now on his way to the +Continent to take up his monastic vocation once more. + +The Prior was away on one of the journeys that he so frequently +undertook at this time, no man knew whither, or the ex-monk and rebel +would have been refused admittance; but the sub-Prior was persuaded to +take him in for a night, and he sat long in one of the parlours that +evening telling his story. + +Chris leaned against the wall and watched him as he talked with the +candle-light on his face. He was a stout middle-aged man in layman's +dress, for he was not yet out of peril; he sat forward in his chair, +making preacher's gestures as he spoke, and using well-chosen vivid +words. + +"They were gathered already when I joined them on their way to York; +there were nearly ten thousand of them on the road, with Aske at their +head. I have never set eyes on such a company! There was a troop of +gentlemen and their sons riding with Aske in front, all in armour; and +then the rabble behind with gentlemen again to their officers. The +common folk had pikes and hooks only; and some were in leather harness, +and some without; but they marched well and kept good order. They were +of all sorts: hairy men and boys; and miners from the North. There were +monks, too, and friars, I know not how many, that went with the army to +encourage them; and everywhere we went the women ran out of their homes +with food and drink, and prayed God to bless us; and the bells were rung +in the village churches. We slept as we could, some in houses, some in +churchyards and by the wayside, and as many of us as could get into the +churches heard mass each day. As many too as could make them, wore the +Five Wounds on a piece of stuff sewn on the arm. You would have said +that none could stand against us, so eager we were and full of faith." + +"There was a song, was there not?" began one of the monks. + +"Yes, father. We sang it as we went. + + "Christ crucified! + For thy wounds wide + Us commons guide + Which pilgrims be! + Through God his grace + For to purchase + Old wealth and peace + Of the spiritualty! + +"You could hear it up and down the lines, sung with weeping and +shouting." + +He described how they came to York, and how the Mayor was forced to +admit them. They stayed there a couple of days; and Aske published his +directions for all the ejected Religious to return to their houses. + +"I went to a little cell near by--I forget its name--to help some canons +to settle in again, whose friendship I had made. I had told them then +that my mind was to enter Religion once more, and they took me very +willingly. We got there at night. The roof was gone from the dormitory, +but we slept there for all that--such of us as could sleep--for I heard +one of them sobbing for joy as he lay there in his old corner under the +stars; and we sang mass in the morning, as well as we could. The priest +had an old tattered vestment that hardly hung on his shoulders; and +there was no cross but one that came from a pair of beads, and that we +hung over the altar. When I left them again, they were at their office +as before, and busy roofing the house with old timbers; for my lord +Cromwell had all the lead. And all their garden was trampled; but they +said they would do very well. The village-folk were their good friends, +and would bring them what they needed." + +He described his journey to Doncaster; the furious excitement of the +villages he passed through, and the news that reached him hour after +hour as to the growing vastness of Aske's forces. + +"There were thirty thousand, I heard, on the banks of the Don on one +side; for my lords Nevill and Lumley and others had ridden in with St. +Cuthbert his banner and arms, and five thousand men, besides those that +came in from all the country. And on the further side was my Lord +Shrewsbury for the King, with the Duke and his men. Master Aske had all +he could do to keep his men back from being at them. Some of the young +sparks were as terriers at a rat-hole. There was a parley held on the +bridge, for Norfolk knew well that he must gain time; and Aske sent his +demands to his Grace, and that was the mistake--" + +The man beat one hand into the other and looked round with a kindling +force-- + +"That was the mistake! He was too loyal for such work, and did not guess +at their craft. Well, while we waited there, our men began to make off; +their farms were wanting them, and their wives and the rest, and we +melted. Master Aske had to be everywhere at once, it was no fault of +his. My Lord Derby was marching up upon the houses again, and seeking to +drive the monks out once more. But there was not an act of violence done +by our men; not a penny-piece taken or a house burned. They were +peaceable folk, and asked no more than that their old religion should be +given back to them, and that they might worship God as they had always +done." + +He went on to explain how the time had been wasted in those fruitless +negotiations, and how the force dwindled day by day. Various answers +were attempted by the King, containing both threats and promises, and in +these, as in all else the hand of Cromwell was evident. Finally, towards +the end of November, the insurgents gathered again for another meeting +with the King's representatives at Doncaster, summoned by beacons on the +top of the high Yorkshire moors, and by the reversed pealing of the +church bells. + +"We had a parley among ourselves at Pomfret first, and had a great +to-do, though I saw little of it; and drew up our demands; and then set +out for Doncaster again. The duke was there, with the King's pardon in +his hand, in the Whitefriars; and a promise that all should be as we +asked. So we went back to Pomfret, well-pleased, and the next day on St. +Thomas' hill the herald read the pardon to us all; and we, poor fools, +thought that his Grace meant to keep his word--" + +The monk looked bitterly round, sneering with his white strong teeth set +together like a savage dog's; and there was silence for a moment. The +Sub-Prior looked nervously round the faces of his subjects, for this was +treasonable talk to hear. + +Then the man went on. He himself it seemed had retired again to the +little cell where he had seen the canons settled in a few weeks +previously; and heard nothing of what was going forward; except that the +heralds were going about the country, publishing the King's pardon to +all who had taken part in the Rebellion, and affixing it to the +market-cross in each town and village, with touching messages from the +King relating to the grief which he had felt on hearing that his dear +children believed such tales about him. + +Little by little, however, the discontent began to smoulder once more, +for the King's pledges of restoration were not fulfilled; and Cromwell, +who was now recognised to be the inspirer of all the evil done against +Religion, remained as high as ever in the royal favour. Aske, who had +been to the King in person, and given him an account of all that had +taken place, now wrote to him that there was a danger of a further +rising if the delay continued, for there were no signs yet of the +promised free parliament being called at York. + +Then again disturbances had broken out. + +"I was at Hull," said the monk, "with Sir Francis Bygod in January; but +we did nothing, and only lost our leader, and all the while Norfolk was +creeping up with his army. It was piteous to think what might not have +been done if we had not trusted his Grace; but 'twas no good, and I was +back again in the dales here and there, hiding for my life by April. +Everywhere 'twas the same; the monks were haled out again from their +houses, and men were hanged by the score. I cut down four myself near +Meux, and gave them Christian burial at night. One was a monk, and +hanged in his habit. But the worst of all was at York." + +The man's face twitched with emotion, and he passed his hand over his +mouth once or twice before continuing. + +"I did not dare to go into the court for fear I should be known; but I +stood outside in the crowd and watched them go in. There was a fellow +riding with Norfolk--a false knave of a man whom we had all learnt to +hate at Doncaster--for he was always jeering at us secretly and making +mischief when he could. I saw him with the duke before, when we went +into the Whitefriars for the pardon; and he stood there behind with the +look of a devil on his face; and now here he was again--" + +"His name, sir?" put in Dom Adrian. + +"Torridon, father, Torridon! He was a--" + +There was a sharp movement in the room, so that the monk stopped and +looked round him amazed. Chris felt the blood ebb from his heart and din +in his ears, and he swayed a little as he leaned against the wall. He +saw Dom Anthony lean forward and whisper to the stranger; and through +the haze that was before his eyes saw the other look at him sharply, +with a fallen jaw. + +Then the monk rose and made a little stiff inclination to Chris, +deferential and courteous, but with a kind of determined dignity in it +too. + +When Chris had recovered himself, the monk was deep in his story, but +Ralph had fallen out of it. + +"You would not believe it," he was saying, "but on the very jury that +was to try Master Aske and Constable, there were empanelled their own +blood-relations; and that by the express intention of Norfolk. John Aske +was one of them, and some others who had to wives the sons of my Lord +Darcy and Sir Robert Constable. You see how it would be. If the +prisoners were found guilty, men would say that it must be so, for that +their own kin had condemned them; and if they were to be acquitted, then +these men themselves would be cast." + +There again broke out a murmur from the listening faces, as the man +paused. + +"Well, they were cast, as you know, for not taking the King to be the +supreme head of the Church, and for endeavouring to force the King to +hold a parliament that he willed not. And I was at York again when +Master Aske was brought back from London to be hanged, and I saw it!" + +Again an uncontrollable emotion shook him; and he propped his face on +his hand as he ended his tale. + +"There were many of his friends there in the crowd, and scarcely one +dared to cry out, God save you, sir.... I dared not...." + +He gave one rending sob, and Chris felt his eyes prick with tears at the +sight of so much sorrow. It was piteous to see a brave man thinking +himself a coward. + +Dom Anthony leaned forward. + +"Thank you, father," he said, though his voice was a little husky, "and +thank God that he died well. You have touched all our hearts." + +"I was a hound," sobbed the man, "a hound, that I did not cry out to him +and tell him that I loved him." + +"No, no, father," said the other tenderly, "you must not think so. You +must serve God well now, and pray for his soul." + +The bell sounded out for Compline as he spoke, and the monks rose. + +"You will come into choir, father," said the Sub-Prior. + +The man nodded, stood up, and followed him out. + +Chris was in a strange ferment as he stood in his stall that night. It +had been sad enough to hear of that gallant attempt to win back the old +liberties and the old Faith--that attempt that had been a success except +for the insurgents' trust in their King--and of the death of the +leaders. + +But across the misery had pierced a more poignant grief, as he had +learnt how Ralph's hand was in this too and had taken once more the +wrong side in God's quarrel. But still he had no resentment; the +conflict had passed out of the personal plane into an higher, and he +thought of his brother as God's enemy rather than his own. Would his +prayers then never prevail--the prayers that he speeded up in the smoke +of the great Sacrifice morning by morning for that zealous mistaken +soul? Or was it perhaps that that brother of his must go deeper yet, +before coming out to knowledge and pardon? + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE DESTRUCTION OF THE SEAL + + +The autumn drew in swiftly. The wet south-west wind blew over the downs +that lay between Lewes and the sea, and beat down the loose browning +leaves of the trees about the Priory. The grass in the cloister-garth +grew rank and dark with the constant rain that drove and dropped over +the high roofs. + +And meanwhile the tidings grew heavier still. + +After Michaelmas the King set to work in earnest. He had been checked by +the northern risings, and still paused to see whether the embers had +been wholly quenched; and then when it was evident that the North was as +submissive as the South, began again his business of gathering in the +wealth that was waiting. + +He started first in the North, under show of inflicting punishment for +the encouragement that the Religious had given to the late rebellions; +and one by one the great abbeys were tottering. Furness and Sawley had +already fallen, with Jervaulx and the other houses, and Holme Cultram +was placed under the care of a superior who could be trusted to hand +over his charge when called upon. + +But up to the present not many great houses had actually fallen, except +those which were supposed to have taken a share in the revolt; and owing +to the pains taken by the Visitors to contradict the report that the +King intended to lay his hands on the whole monastic property of +England, it was even hoped by a few sanguine souls that the large +houses might yet survive. + +There were hot discussions in the chapter at Lewes from time to time +during the year. The "Bishops' Book," issued by a committee of divines +and approved by the King, and containing a digest of the new Faith that +was being promulgated, arrived during the summer and was fiercely +debated; but so high ran the feeling that the Prior dropped the matter, +and the book was put away with other papers of the kind on an honourable +but little-used shelf. + +The acrimony in domestic affairs began to reach its climax in October, +when the prospects of the Priory's own policy came up for discussion. + +Some maintained that they were safe, and that quietness and confidence +were their best security, and these had the support of the Prior; others +declared that the best hope lay in selling the possessions of the house +at a low price to some trustworthy man who would undertake to sell then +back again at only a small profit to himself when the storm was passed. + +The Prior rose in wrath when this suggestion was made. + +"Would you have me betray my King?" he cried. "I tell you I will have +none of it. It is not worthy of a monk to have such thoughts." + +And he sat down and would hear no more, nor speak. + +There were whispered conferences after that among the others, as to what +his words meant. Surely there was nothing dishonourable in the device; +they only sought to save what was their own! And how would the King be +"betrayed" by such an action? + +They had an answer a fortnight later; and it took them wholly by +surprise. + +During the second week in November the Prior had held himself more +aloof than ever; only three or four of the monks, with the Sub-Prior +among them, were admitted to his cell, and they were there at all hours. +Two or three strangers too arrived on horseback, and were entertained by +the Prior in a private parlour. And then on the morning of the +fourteenth the explanation came. + +When the usual business of the chapter was done, the faults confessed +and penances given, and one or two small matters settled, the Prior, +instead of rising to give the signal to go, remained in his chair, his +head bent on to his hand. + +It was a dark morning, heavy and lowering; and from where Chris sat at +the lower end of the great chamber he could scarcely make out the +features of those who sat under the high window at the east; but as soon +as the Prior lifted his face and spoke, he knew by that tense strain of +the voice that something impended. + +"There is another matter," said the Prior; and paused again. + +For a moment there was complete silence. The Sub-Prior leant a little +forward and was on the point of speaking, when his superior lifted his +head again and straightened himself in his chair. + +"It is this," he said, and his voice rang hard and defiant, "it is this. +It is useless to think we can save ourselves. We are under suspicion, +and worse than suspicion. I have hoped, and prayed, and striven to know +God's will; and I have talked with my Lord Cromwell not once or twice, +but often. And it is useless to resist any further." + +His voice cracked with misery; but Chris saw him grip the bosses of his +chair-arms in an effort for self-control. His own heart began to sicken; +this was not frightened raving such as he had listened to before; it was +the speech of one who had been driven into decision, as a rat into a +corner. + +"I have talked with the Sub-Prior, and others; and they think with me in +this. I have kept it back from the rest, that they might serve God in +peace so long as was possible. But now I must tell you all, my sons, +that we must leave this place." + +There was a hush of terrible tension. The monks had known that they were +threatened; they could not think otherwise with the news that came from +all parts, but they had not known that catastrophe was so imminent. An +old monk opposite Chris began to moan and mutter; but the Prior went on +immediately. + +"At least I think that we must leave. It may be otherwise, if God has +pity on us; I do not know; but we must be ready to leave, if it be His +will, and,--and to say so." + +He was speaking in abrupt sentences, with pauses between, in which he +appeared to summon his resolution to speak again, and force out his +tale. There was plainly more behind too; and his ill-ease seemed to +deepen on him. + +"I wish no one to speak now," he said, "Instead of the Lady-mass +to-morrow we shall sing mass of the Holy Ghost; and afterwards I shall +have more to say to you again. I do not desire any to hold speech with +any other, but to look into their own hearts and seek counsel of God +there." + +He still sat a moment silent, then rose and gave the signal. + + * * * * * + +It was a strange day for Chris. He did not know what to think, but he +was certain that they had not yet been told all. The Prior's silences +had been as pregnant as his words. There was something very close now +that would be revealed immediately, and meanwhile he must think out how +to meet it. + +The atmosphere seemed charged all day; the very buildings wore a strange +air, unfamiliar and menacing. The intimate bond between his soul and +them, knit by associations of prayer and effort, appeared unreal and +flimsy. He was tormented by doubtfulness; he could not understand on the +one side how it was possible to yield to the King, on the other how it +was possible to resist. No final decision could be made by him until he +had heard the minds of his fellows; and fortunately they would all speak +before him. He busied himself then with disentangling the strands of +motive, desire, fear and hope, and waited for the shaking loose of the +knot until he knew more. + +Mass of the Holy Ghost was sung next morning by the Prior himself in red +vestments; and Chris waited with expectant awe, remembering how the +Carthusians under like circumstances had been visited by God; but the +Host was uplifted and the bell rang; and there was nothing but the +candle-lit gloom of the choir about the altar, and the sigh of the wind +in the chapels behind. + +Then in the chapter-meeting the Prior told them all. + + * * * * * + +He reminded them how they had prayed that morning for guidance, and that +they must be fearless now in following it out. It was easy to be +reckless and call it faith, but prudence and reasonable common-sense +were attributes of the Christian no less than trust in God. They had not +to consider now what they would wish for themselves, but what God +intended for them so far as they could read it in the signs of the +times. + +"For myself," he cried,--and Chris almost thought him sincere as he +spoke, so kindled was his face--"for myself I should ask no more than +to live and die in this place, as I had hoped. Every stone here is as +dear to me as to you, and I think more dear, for I have been in a +special sense the lord of it all; but I dare not think of that. We must +be ready to leave all willingly if God wills. We thought that we had +yielded all to follow Christ when we first set our necks here under His +sweet yoke; but I think He asks of us even more now; and that we should +go out from here even as we went out from our homes ten or twenty years +ago. We shall be no further from our God outside this place; and we may +be even nearer if we go out according to His will." + +He seemed on fire with zeal and truth. His timid peevish air was gone, +and his delicate scholarly face was flushed as he spoke. Chris was +astonished, and more perplexed than ever. Was it then possible that +God's will might lie in the direction he feared? + +"Now this is the matter which we have to consider," went on the Prior +more quietly. "His Grace has sent to ask, through a private messenger +from my Lord Cromwell, whether we will yield up the priory. There is no +compulsion in the matter--" he paused significantly--"and his Grace +desires each to act according to his judgment and conscience, of--of his +own free will." + +There was a dead silence. + +The news was almost expected by now. Through the months of anxiety each +monk had faced the probability of such tidings coming to him sooner or +later; and the last few days had brought expectation to its climax. Yet +it was hard to see the enemy face to face, and to know that there was no +possibility of resisting him finally. + +The Sub-Prior rose to his feet and began to speak, glancing as if for +corroboration to his superior from time to time. His mouth worked a +little at the close of each sentence. + +"My Lord Prior has shown us his own mind, and I am with him in the +matter. His Grace treats us like his own children; he wishes us to be +loving and obedient. But, as a father too, he has authority behind to +compel us to his will if we will not submit. And, as my Lord Prior said +yesterday, we do not know whether or no his Grace will not permit us to +remain here after all, if we are docile; or perhaps refound the priory +out of his own bounty. There is talk of the Chertsey monks going to the +London Charterhouse from Bisham where the King set them last year. But +we may be sure he will not do so with us if we resist his will now. I on +my part then am in favour of yielding up the house willingly, and +trusting ourselves to his Grace's clemency." + +There was again silence as he sat down; and a pause of a minute or two +before Dom Anthony rose. His ruddy face was troubled and perplexed; but +he spoke resolutely enough. + +He said that he could not understand why the matter had not been laid +before them earlier, that they might have had time to consider it. The +question was an extremely difficult one to the consciences of some of +them. On the one hand there was the peril of acquiescing in +sacrilege--the Prior twisted in his seat as he heard this--and on the +other of wilfully and petulantly throwing away their only opportunity of +saving their priory. He asked for time. + +Several more made speeches, some in favour of the proposal, and some +asking, as Dom Anthony had done, for further time for consideration. +They had no precedents, they said, on which to decide such a question, +for they understood that it was not on account of treason that they +were required to surrender the house and property. + +The Prior rose with a white face. + +"No, no," he cried. "God forbid! That is over and done with. I--we have +made our peace with my Lord Cromwell in that affair." + +"Then why," asked Dom Anthony, "are we required to yield it?" + +The Prior glanced helplessly at him. + +"I--it is as a sign that the King is temporal lord of the land." + +"We do not deny that," said the other. + +"Some do," said the Prior feebly. + +There was a little more discussion. Dom Anthony remarked that it was not +a matter of temporal but spiritual headship that was in question. To +meddle with the Religious Orders was to meddle with the Vicar of Christ +under whose special protection they were; and it seemed to him at least +a probable opinion, so far as he had had time to consider it, that to +yield, even in the hopes of saving their property ultimately, was to +acquiesce in the repudiation of the authority of Rome. + +And so it went on for an hour; and then as it grew late, the Prior rose +once more, and asked if any one had a word to say who had not yet +spoken. + +Chris had intended to speak, but all that he wished to ask had already +been stated by others; and he sat now silent, staring up at the Prior, +and down at the smooth boarded floor at his feet. He had not an idea +what to do. He was no theologian. + +Then the Prior unmasked his last gun. + +"As regards the matter of time for consideration, that is now passed. In +spite of what some have said we have had sufficient warning. All here +must have known that the choice would be laid before them, for months +past; it is now an answer that is required of us." + +He paused a moment longer. His lips began to tremble, but he made a +strong effort and finished. + +"Master Petre will be here to-night, as my lord Cromwell's +representative, and will sit in the chapter-house to-morrow to receive +the surrender." + +Dom Anthony started to his feet. The Prior made a violent gesture for +silence, and then gave the signal to break up. + + * * * * * + +Again the bewildering day went past. The very discipline of the house +was a weakness in the defence of the surprised party. It was impossible +for them to meet and discuss the situation as they wished; and even the +small times of leisure seemed unusually occupied. Dom Anthony was busy +at the guest-house; one of the others who had spoken against the +proposal was sent off on a message by the Prior, and another was ordered +to assist the sacristan to clean the treasures in view of the Visitor's +coming. + +Chris was not able to ask a word of advice from any of those whom he +thought to be in sympathy with him. + +He sat all day over his antiphonary, in the little carrel off the +cloister, and as he worked his mind toiled like a mill. + +He had progressed a long way with the work now, and was engaged on the +pages that contained the antiphons for Lent. The design was soberer +here; the angels that had rested among the green branches and early +roses of Septuagesima, thrusting here a trumpet and there a harp among +the leaves, had taken flight, and grave menacing creatures were in their +place. A jackal looked from behind the leafless trunk, a lion lifted +his toothed mouth to roar from a thicket of thorns, as they had lurked +and bellowed in the bleak wilderness above the Jordan fifteen hundred +years ago. They were gravely significant now, he thought; and scarcely +knowing what he did he set narrow human eyes in the lion's face (for he +knew no better) and broadened the hanging jaws with a delicate line or +two. + +Then with a fierce impulse he crowned him, and surmounted the crown with +a cross. + +And all the while his mind toiled at the problem. There were three +things open to him on the morrow. Either he might refuse to sign the +surrender, and take whatever consequences might follow; or he might sign +it; and there were two processes of thought by which he might take that +action. By the first he would simply make an act of faith in his +superiors, and do what they did because they did it; by the second he +would sign it of his own responsibility because he decided to think that +by doing so he would be taking the best action for securing his own +monastic life. + +He considered these three. To refuse to sign almost inevitably involved +his ruin, and that not only, and not necessarily, in the worldly sense; +about that he sincerely believed he did not care; but it would mean his +exclusion from any concession that the King might afterwards make. He +certainly would not be allowed under any circumstances, to remain in the +home of his profession; and if the community was shifted he would not be +allowed to go with them. As regards the second alternative he wondered +whether it was possible to shift responsibility in that manner; as +regards the third, he knew that he had very little capability in any +case of foreseeing the course that events would take. + +Then he turned it all over again, and considered the arguments for each +course. His superiors were set over him by God; it was rash to set +himself against them except in matters of the plainest conscience. Again +it was cowardly to shelter himself behind this plea and so avoid +responsibility. Lastly, he was bound to judge for himself. + +The arguments twisted and turned as bewilderingly as the twining +branches of his design; and behind each by which he might climb to +decision lurked a beast. He felt helpless and dazed by the storm of +conflicting motives. + +As he bent over his work he prayed for light, but the question seemed +more tangled than before; the hours were creeping in; by to-morrow he +must decide. + +Then the memory of the Prior's advice to him once before came back to +his mind; this was the kind of thing, he told himself, that he must +leave to God, his own judgment was too coarse an instrument; he must +wait for a clear supernatural impulse; and as he thought of it he laid +his pencil down, dropped on to his knees, and commended it all to God, +to the Mother of God, St. Pancras, St. Peter and St. Paul. Even as he +did it, the burden lifted and he knew that he would know, when the time +came. + + * * * * * + +Dr. Petre came that night, but Chris saw no more of him than his back as +he went up the cloister with Dom Anthony to the Prior's chamber. The +Prior was not at supper, and his seat was empty in the dim refectory. + +Neither was he at Compline; and it was with the knowledge that +Cromwell's man and their own Superior were together in conference, that +the monks went up the dormitory stairs that night. + +But he was in his place at the chapter-mass next morning, though he +spoke to no one, and disappeared immediately afterwards. + +Then at the appointed time the monks assembled in the chapter-house. + + * * * * * + +As Chris came in he lifted his eyes, and saw that the room was arrayed +much as it had been at the visit of Dr. Layton and Ralph. A great table, +heaped with books and papers, stood at the upper end immediately below +the dais, and a couple of secretaries were there, sharp-looking men, +seated at either end and busy with documents. + +The Prior was in his place in the shadow and was leaning over and +talking to a man who sat beside him. Chris could make out little of the +latter except that he seemed to be a sort of lawyer or clerk, and was +dressed in a dark gown and cap. He was turning over the leaves of a book +as the Prior talked, and nodded his head assentingly from time to time. + +When all the monks were seated, there was still a pause. It was +strangely unlike the scene of a tragedy, there in that dark grave room +with the quiet faces downcast round the walls, and the hands hidden in +the cowl-sleeves. And even on the deeper plane it all seemed very +correct and legal. There was the representative of the King, a capable +learned man, with all the indications of law and order round him, and +his two secretaries to endorse or check his actions. There too was the +Community, gathered to do business in the manner prescribed by the Rule, +with the deeds of foundation before their eyes, and the great brass +convent seal on the table. There was not a hint of bullying or +compulsion; these monks were asked merely to sign a paper if they so +desired it. Each was to act for himself; there was to be no over-riding +of individual privileges, or signing away another's conscience. + +Nothing could have been arranged more peaceably. + +And yet to every man's mind that was present the sedate room was black +with horror. The majesty and terror of the King's will brooded in the +air; nameless dangers looked in at the high windows and into every man's +face; the quiet lawyer-like men were ministers of fearful vengeance; the +very pens, ink and paper that lay there so innocently were sacraments of +death or life. + +The Prior ceased his whispering presently, glanced round to see if all +were in their places, and then stood up. + +His voice was perfectly natural as he told them that this was Dr. Petre, +come down from Lord Cromwell to offer them an opportunity of showing +their trust and love towards their King by surrendering to his +discretion the buildings and property that they held. No man was to be +compelled to sign; it must be perfectly voluntary on their part; his +Grace wished to force no conscience to do that which it repudiated. For +his own part, he said, he was going to sign with a glad heart. The King +had shown his clemency in a hundred ways, and to that clemency he +trusted. + +Then he sat down; and Chris marvelled at his self-control. + +Dr. Petre stood up, and looked round for a moment before opening his +mouth; then he put his two hands on the table before him, dropped his +eyes and began his speech. + +He endorsed first what the Prior had said, and congratulated all there +on possessing such a superior. It was a great happiness, he said, to +deal with men who showed themselves so reasonable and so loyal. Some he +had had to do with had not been so--and--and of course their +stubbornness had brought its own penalty. But of that he did not wish +to speak. On the other hand those who had shown themselves true +subjects of his Grace had already found their reward. He had great +pleasure in announcing to them that what the Prior had said to them a +day or two before was true; and that their brethren in religion of +Chertsey Abbey, who had been moved to Bisham last year, were to go to +the London Charterhouse in less than a month. The papers were made out; +he had assisted in their drawing up. + +He spoke in a quiet restrained voice, and with an appearance of great +deference; there was not the shadow of a bluster even when he referred +to the penalties of stubbornness; it was very unlike the hot bullying +arrogance of Dr. Layton. Then he ended-- + +"And so, reverend fathers, the choice is in your hands. His Grace will +use no compulsion. You will hear presently that the terms of surrender +are explicit in that point. He will not force one man to sign who is not +convinced that he can best serve his King and himself by doing so. It +would go sorely against his heart if he thought that he had been the +means of making the lowest of his subjects to act contrary to the +conscience that God has given him. My Lord Prior, I will beg of you to +read the terms of surrender." + +The paper was read, and it was as it had been described. Again and again +it was repeated in various phrases that the property was yielded of +free-will. It was impossible to find in it even the hint of a threat. +The properties in question were enumerated in the minutest manner, and +the list included all the rights of the priory over the Cluniac cell of +Castleacre. + +The Prior laid the paper down, and looked at Dr. Petre. + +The Commissioner rose from his seat, taking the paper as he did so, and +so stood a moment. + +"You see, reverend fathers, that it is as I told you. I understand that +you have already considered the matter, so that there is no more to be +said." + +He stepped down from the dais and passed round to the further side of +the table. One of the secretaries pushed an ink-horn and a couple of +quills across to him. + +"My Lord Prior," said Dr. Petre, with a slight bow. "If you are willing +to sign this, I will beg of you to do so; and after that to call up your +subjects." + +He laid the paper down. The Prior stepped briskly out of his seat, and +passed round the table. + +Chris watched his back, the thin lawyer beside him indicating the place +for the name; and listened as in a dream to the scratching of the pen. +He himself still did not know what he would do. If all signed--? + +The Prior stepped back, and Chris caught a glimpse of a white face that +smiled terribly. + +The Sub-Prior stepped down at a sign from his Superior; and then one by +one the monks came out. + +Chris's heart sickened as he watched; and then stood still on a sudden +in desperate hope, for opposite to him Dom Anthony sat steady, his head +on his hand, and made no movement when it was his turn to come out. +Chris saw the Prior look at the monk, and a spasm of emotion went over +his face. + +"Dom Anthony," he said. + +The monk lifted his face, and it was smiling too. + +"I cannot sign, My Lord Prior." + +Then the veils fell, and decision flashed on Chris' soul. + +He heard the pulse drumming in his ears, and his wet hands slipped one +in the other as he gripped them together, but he made no sign till all +the others had gone up. Then he looked up at the Prior. + +It seemed an eternity before the Prior looked at him and nodded; and he +could make no answering sign. + +Then he heard his name called, and with a great effort he answered; his +voice seemed not his own in his ears. He repeated Dom Anthony's words. + +"I cannot sign, My Lord Prior." + +Then he sat back with closed eyes and waited. + +He heard movements about him, steps, the crackle of parchment, and at +last Dr. Petre's voice; but he scarcely understood what was said. There +was but one thought dinning in his brain, and that was that he had +refused, and thrown his defiance down before the King--that terrible man +whom he had seen in his barge on the river, with the narrow eyes, the +pursed mouth and the great jowl, as he sat by the woman he called his +wife--that woman who now-- + +Chris shivered, opened his eyes, and sense came back. + +Dr. Petre was just ending his speech. He was congratulating the +Community on their reasonableness and loyalty. By an overwhelming +majority they had decided to trust the King, and they would not find his +grace unmindful of that. As for those who had not signed he could say +nothing but that they had used the liberty that his Grace had given +them. Whether they had used it rightly was no business of his. + +Then he turned to the Prior. + +"The seal then, My Lord Prior. I think that is the next matter." + +The Prior rose and lifted it from the table. Chris caught the gleam of +the brass and silver of the ponderous precious thing in his hand--the +symbol of their corporate existence--engraved, as he knew, with the four +patrons of the house, the cliff, the running water of the Ouse, and the +rhyming prayer to St. Pancras. + +The Prior handed it to the Commissioner, who took it, and stood there a +moment weighing it in his hand. + +"A hammer," he said. + +One of the secretaries rose, and drew from beneath the table a sheet of +metal and a sharp hammer; he handed both to Dr. Petre. + +Chris watched, fascinated with something very like terror, his throat +contracted in a sudden spasm, as he saw the Commissioner place the metal +in the solid table before him, and then, holding the seal sideways, lift +the hammer in his right hand. + +Then blow after blow began to echo in the rafters overhead. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE SINKING SHIP + + +Dr. Petre had come and gone, and to all appearance the priory was as +before. He had not taken a jewel or a fragment of stuff; he had +congratulated the sacristan on the beauty and order of his treasures, +and had bidden him guard them carefully, for that there were knaves +abroad who professed themselves as authorised by the King to seize +monastic possessions, which they sold for their own profit. The offices +continued to be sung day and night, and the masses every morning; and +the poor were fed regularly at the gate. + +But across the corporate life had passed a subtle change, analogous to +that which comes to the body of a man. Legal death had taken place +already; the unity of life and consciousness existed no more; the seal +was defaced; they could no longer sign a document except as individuals. +Now the _rigor mortis_ would set in little by little until somatic death +too had been consummated, and the units which had made up the organism +had ceased to bear any relation one to the other. + +But until after Christmas there was no further development; and the +Feast was observed as usual, and with the full complement of monks. At +the midnight mass there was a larger congregation than for many months, +and the confessions and communions also slightly increased. It was a +symptom, as Chris very plainly perceived, of the manner in which the +shadow of the King reached even to the remotest details of the life of +the country. The priory was now, as it were, enveloped in the royal +protection, and the people responded accordingly. + +There had come no hint from headquarters as to the ultimate fate of the +house; and some even began to hope that the half-promise of a +re-foundation would be fulfilled. Neither had any mark of disapproval +arrived as to the refusal to sign on the part of the two monks; but +although nothing further was said in conversation or at chapter, there +was a consciousness in the minds of both Dom Anthony and Chris that a +wall had arisen between them and the rest. Talk in the cloister was apt +to flag when either approached; and the Prior never spoke a word to them +beyond what was absolutely necessary. + +Then, about the middle of January the last process began to be enacted. + + * * * * * + +One morning the Prior's place in church was empty. + +He was accustomed to disappear silently, and no astonishment was caused +on this occasion; but at Compline the same night the Sub-Prior too was +gone. + +This was an unheard-of state of things, but all except the guest-master +and Chris seemed to take it as a matter of course; and no word was +spoken. + +After the chapter on the next morning Dom Anthony made a sign to Chris +as he passed him in the cloister, and the two went out together into the +clear morning-sunshine of the outer court. + +Dom Anthony glanced behind him to see that no one was following, and +then turned to the other. + +"They are both gone," he said, "and others are going. Dom Bernard is +getting his things together. I saw them under his bed last night." + +Chris stared at him, mute and terrified. + +"What are we to do, Dom Anthony?" + +"We can do nothing. We must stay. Remember that we are the only two who +have any rights here now, before God." + +There was silence a moment. Chris glanced at the other, and was +reassured by the steady look on his ruddy face. + +"I will stay, Dom Anthony," he said softly. + +The other looked at him tenderly. + +"God bless you, brother!" he said. + +That night Dom Bernard and another were gone. And still the others made +no sign or comment; and it was not until yet another pair had gone that +Dom Anthony spoke plainly. + +He was now the senior monk in the house; and it was his place to direct +the business of the chapter. When the formal proceedings were over he +stood up fearlessly. + +"You cannot hide it longer," he said. "I have known for some while what +was impending." He glanced round at the empty stalls, and his face +flushed with sudden anger: "For God's sake, get you gone, you who mean +to go; and let us who are steadfast serve our Lord in peace." + +Chris looked along the few faces that were left; but they were downcast +and sedate, and showed no sign of emotion. + +Dom Anthony waited a moment longer, and then gave the signal to depart. +By a week later the two were left alone. + + * * * * * + +It was very strange to be there, in the vast house and church, and to +live the old life now stripped of three-fourths of its meaning; but they +did not allow one detail to suffer that it was possible to preserve. The +_opus Dei_ was punctually done, and God was served in psalmody. At the +proper hours the two priests met in the cloister, cowled and in their +choir-shoes, and walked through to the empty stalls; and there, one on +either side, each answered the other, bowed together at the _Gloria_, +confessed and absolved alternately. Two masses were said each day in the +huge lonely church, one at the high altar and the other at our Lady's, +and each monk served the other. In the refectory one read from the +pulpit as the other sat at the table; and the usual forms were observed +with the minutest care. In the chapter each morning they met for mutual +confession and accusation; and in the times between the exercises and +meals each worked feverishly at the details that alone made the life +possible. + +They were assisted in this by two paid servants, who were sent to them +by Chris's father, for both the lay-brothers and the servants had gone +with the rest; and the treasurer had disappeared with the money. + +Chris had written to Sir James the day that the last monk had gone, +telling him the state of affairs, and how the larder was almost empty; +and by the next evening the servants had arrived with money and +provisions; and a letter from Sir James written from a sick-bed, saying +that he was unable to come for the present, for he had taken the fever, +and that Morris would not leave him, but expressing a hope that he would +come soon in person, and that Morris should be sent in a few days. The +latter ended with passionate approval of his son's action. + +"God bless and reward you, dear lad!" he had written. "I cannot tell you +the joy that it is to my heart to know that you are faithful. It cannot +be for long; but whether it is for long and short, you shall have my +prayers and blessings; and please God, my poor presence too after a few +days. May our Lady and your holy patron intercede for you both who are +so worthy of their protection!" + + * * * * * + +At the end of the second week in March Mr. Morris arrived. + +Chris was taking the air in the court shortly before sunset, after a +hard day's work in church. The land was beginning to stir with the +resurrection-life of spring; and the hills set round the town had that +faint flush of indescribable colour that tinges slopes of grass as the +sleeping sap begins to stir. The elm-trees in the court were hazy with +growth as the buds fattened at the end of every twig, and a group of +daffodils here and there were beginning to burst their sheaths of gold. +There on the little lawn before the guest-house were half a dozen white +and lavender patches of colour that showed where the crocuses would star +the grass presently; and from the high west front of the immense church, +and from beneath the eaves of the offices to the right the birds were +practising the snatches of song that would break out with full melody a +month or two later. + +In spite of all that threatened, Chris was in an ecstasy of happiness. +It rushed down on him, overwhelmed and enveloped him; for he knew now +that he had been faithful. The flood of praise in the church had +dwindled to a thread; but it was still the _opus Dei_, though it flowed +but from two hearts; and the pulse of the heavenly sacrifice still +throbbed morning by morning, and the Divine Presence still burned as +unceasingly as the lamp that beaconed it, in the church that was now all +but empty of its ministers. There were times when the joy that was in +his heart trembled into tears, as when last night he and his friend had +sung the song to Mary; and the contrast between the two poor voices, +and the roar of petition that had filled the great vaulting a year +before, had suddenly torn his heart in two. + +But now the poignant sorrow had gone again; and as he walked here alone +on this March evening, with the steady hills about him and the flushing +sky overhead, and the sweet life quickening in the grass at his feet, an +extraordinary peace flooded his soul. + +There came a knocking at the gate, and the jangle of a bell; and he went +across quickly and unbarred the door. + +Mr. Morris was there on horseback, a couple of saddlebags strapped to +his beast; and a little group of loungers stood behind. + +Chris smiled with delight, and threw the door wide. + +The servant saluted him and then turned to the group behind. + +"You have no authority," he said, "as to my going in." + +Then he rode through; and Chris barred the gate behind him, glancing as +he did so at the curious faces that stared silently. + +Mr. Morris said nothing till he had led his horse into the stable. Then +he explained. + +"One of the fellows told me, sir, that this was the King's house now; +and that I had no business here." + +Chris smiled again. + +"I know we are watched," he said, "the servants are questioned each time +they set foot outside." + +Mr. Morris pursed his lips. + +"How long shall you be here, sir?" he asked. + +"Until we are turned out," said Chris. + + * * * * * + +It was true, as he had said, that the house was watched. Ever since the +last monk had left there had been a man or two at the gate, another +outside the church-door that opened towards the town; and another yet +again beyond the stream to the south of the priory-buildings. Dom +Anthony had told him what it meant. It was that the authorities had no +objection to the two monks keeping the place until it could be dealt +with, but were determined that nothing should pass out. It had not been +worthwhile to send in a caretaker, for all the valuables had been +removed either by the Visitors or by the Prior when he went at night. +There were only two sets of second-best altar vessels left, and a few +other comparatively worthless utensils for the use of the church and +kitchen. The great relics and the jewelled treasures had gone long +before. Chris had wondered a little at the house being disregarded for +so long; but the other monk had reminded him that such things as lead +and brass and bells were beyond the power of two men to move, and could +keep very well until other more pressing business had been despatched +elsewhere. + +Mr. Morris gave him news of his father. It had not been the true fever +after all, and he would soon be here; in at any rate a week or two. As +regarded other news, there was no tidings of Mr. Ralph except that he +was very busy. Mistress Margaret was at home; no notice seemed to have +been taken of her when she had been turned out with the rest at the +dissolution of her convent. + +It was very pleasant to see that familiar face about the cloister and +refectory; or now and again, when work was done, looking up from beyond +the screen as the monks came in by the sacristy door. Once or twice on +dark evenings when terror began to push through the rampart of the will +that Chris had raised up, it was reassuring too to know that Morris was +there, for he bore with him, as old servants do, an atmosphere of home +and security, and he carried himself as well with a wonderful +naturalness, as if the relief of beleaguered monks were as ordinary a +duty as the cleaning of plate. + +March was half over now; and still no sign had come from the world +outside. There were no guests either to bring tidings, for the priory +was a marked place and it was well not to show or receive kindliness in +its regard. + +Within, the tension of nerves grew acute. Chris was conscious of a +deepening exaltation, but it was backed by horror. He found himself now +smiling with an irrepressible internal joy, now twitching with +apprehension, starting at sudden noises, and terrified at loneliness. +Dom Anthony too grew graver still; and would take his arm sometimes and +walk with him, and tell him tales, and watch him with tender eyes. But +in him, as in the younger monk, the strain tightened every day. + + * * * * * + +They were singing Compline together one evening with tired, overstrained +voices, for they had determined not to relax any of the chant until it +was necessary. Mr. Morris was behind them at a chair set beyond the +screen; and there were no others present in church. + +The choir was perfectly dark (for they knew the office by heart) except +for a glimmer from the sacristy door where a lamp burned within to light +them to bed. Chris's thoughts had fled back to that summer evening long +ago when he had knelt far down in the nave and watched the serried line +of the black-hooded soldiers of God, and listened to the tramp of the +psalmody, and longed to be of their company. Now the gallant regiment +had dwindled to two, of which he was one, and the guest-master that had +received him and encouraged him, the other. + +Dom Anthony was the officiant this evening, and had just sung lustily +out in the dark that God was about them with His shield, that they need +fear no nightly terror. + +The movement flagged for a moment, for Chris was not attending; Mr. +Morris's voice began alone, _A sagitta volante_--and then stopped +abruptly as he realised that he was singing by himself; and +simultaneously came a sharp little crash from the dark altar that rose +up in the gloom in front. + +A sort of sobbing breath broke from Chris at the sudden noise, and he +gripped his hands together. + +In a moment Dom Anthony had taken up the verse. + +_A sagitta volante_--"From the arrow that flieth by day, from the thing +that walketh in darkness--" Chris recovered himself; and the office +passed on. + +As the two passed out together towards the door, Dom Anthony went +forward up the steps; and Chris waited, and watched him stoop and pass +his hands over the floor. Then he straightened himself, came down the +steps and went before Chris into the sacristy. + +Under the lamp he stopped, and lifted what he carried to the light. It +was the little ivory crucifix that he had hung there a few weeks ago +when the last cross of precious metal had disappeared with the +Sub-Prior. It was cracked across the body of the figure now, and one of +the arms was detached at the shoulder and swung free on the nail through +the hand. + +Dom Anthony looked at it, turned and looked at Chris; and without a word +the two passed out into the cloister and turned up the dormitory stairs. +To both of them it was a sign that the end was at hand. + + * * * * * + +On the following afternoon Mr. Morris ran in to Chris's carrel, and +found him putting the antiphonary and his implements up into a parcel. + +"Master Christopher," he said, "Sir James and Sir Nicholas are come." + +As he hurried out of the cloister he saw the horses standing there, +spent with fast travelling, and the two riders at their heads, with the +dust on their boots, and their clothes disordered. They remained +motionless as the monk came towards them; but he saw that his father's +face was working and that his eyes were wide and anxious. + +"Thank God," said the old man softly. "I am in time. They are coming +to-night, Chris." But there was a questioning look on his face. + +Chris looked at him. + +"Will you take the horses?" said his father again. "Nick and I are +safe." + +Chris still stared bewildered. Then he understood; and with +understanding came decision. + +"No, father," he said. + +The old man's face broke up into lines of emotion. + +"Are you sure, my son?" + +Chris nodded steadily. + +"Then we will all be together," said Sir James; and he turned to lead +his horse to the stable. + + * * * * * + +There was a little council held in the guest-house a few minutes later. +Dom Anthony hurried to it, his habit splashed with whitewash, for he had +been cleaning the dormitory, and the four sat down together. + +It seemed that Nicholas had ridden over from Great Keynes to Overfield +earlier in the afternoon, and had brought the news that a company of men +had passed through the village an hour before, and that one of them had +asked which turn to take to Lewes. Sir Nicholas had ridden after them +and enquired their business, and had gathered that they were bound for +the priory, and he then turned his horse and made off to Overfield. His +horse was spent when he arrived there; but he had changed horses and +came on immediately with Sir James, to warn the monks of the approach of +the men, and to give them an opportunity of making their escape if they +thought it necessary. + +"Who were the leaders?" asked the elder monk. + +Nicholas shook his head. + +"They were in front; I dared not ride up." + +But his sturdy face looked troubled as he answered, and Chris saw his +father's lips tighten. Dom Anthony drummed softly on the table. + +"There is nothing to be done," he said. "We wait till we are cast out." + +"You cannot refuse admittance?" questioned Sir James. + +"But we shall do so," said the other tranquilly; "at least we shall not +open." + +"But they will batter the door down." + +"Certainly," said the monk. + +"And then?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"I suppose they will put us out." + +There was absolutely nothing to be done. It was absurd to dream of more +than formal resistance. Up in the North in more than one abbey the +inmates had armed themselves, and faced the spoilers grimly on the +village green; but that was where the whole country side was with them, +and here it was otherwise. + +They talked a few minutes longer, and decided that they would neither +open nor resist. The monks two were determined to remain there until +they were actually cast out; and then the responsibility would rest on +other shoulders than theirs. + +It was certain of course that by this time to-morrow at the latest they +would have been expelled; and it was arranged that the two monks should +ride back to Overfield, if they were personally unmolested, and remain +there until further plans were decided upon. + +The four knew of course that there was a grave risk in provoking the +authorities any further, but it was a risk that the two Religious were +determined to run. + +They broke up presently; Mr. Morris came upstairs to tell them that food +was ready in one of the parlours off the cloister; and the two laymen +went off with him, while the monks went to sing vespers for the last +time. + + * * * * * + +An hour or two later the two were in the refectory at supper. The +evening was drawing in, and the light in the tall windows was fading. +Opposite where Chris sat (for Dom Anthony was reading aloud from the +pulpit), a row of coats burned in the glass, and he ran his eyes over +them. They had been set there, he remembered, soon after his own coming +to the place; the records had been searched, and the arms of every prior +copied and emblazoned in the panes. There they all were; from Lanzo of +five centuries ago, whose arms were conjectural, down to Robert Crowham, +who had forsaken his trust; telling the long tale of prelates and +monastic life, from the beginning to the close. He looked round beyond +the circle of light cast by his own candle, and the place seemed full of +ghosts and presences to his fancy. The pale oak panelling glimmered +along the walls above the empty seats, from the Prior's to the left, +over which the dusky fresco of the Majesty of Christ grew darker still +as the light faded, down to the pulpit opposite where Dom Anthony's +grave ruddy face with downcast eyes stood out vivid in the candlelight. +Ah! surely there was a cloud of witnesses now, a host of faces looking +down from the black rafters overhead, and through the glimmering +panes,--the faces of those who had eaten here with the same sacramental +dignity and graciousness that these two survivors used. It was +impossible to feel lonely in this stately house, saturated with holy +life; and with a thrill at his heart he remembered how Dom Anthony had +once whispered to him at the beginning of the troubles, that if others +held their peace the very stones should cry out; and that God was able +of those stones to raise up children to His praise.... + +There was a sound of brisk, hurrying footsteps in the cloister outside, +Dom Anthony ceased his reading with his finger on the place, and the +eyes of the two monks met. + +The door was opened abruptly, and Morris stood there. + +"My master has sent me, sir," he said. "They are coming." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE LAST STAND + + +The court outside had deepened into shadows as they came out; but +overhead the sky still glowed faintly luminous in a tender translucent +green. The evening star shone out clear and tranquil opposite them in +the west. + +There were three figures standing at the foot of the steps that led down +from the cloister; one of the servants with the two gentlemen; and as +Chris pushed forward quickly his father turned and lifted his finger for +silence. + +The town lay away to the right; and over the wall that joined the west +end of the church to the gatehouse, there were a few lights +visible--windows here and there just illuminated. + +For the first moment Chris thought there had been a mistake; he had +expected a clamour at the gate, a jangling of the bell. Then as he +listened he knew that it was no false alarm. + +Across the wall, from the direction of the hills that showed dimly +against the evening sky, there came a murmur, growing as he listened. +The roads were hard from lack of rain, and he could distinguish the +sound of horses, a great company; but rising above this was a dull roar +of voices. Every moment it waxed, died once or twice, then sounded out +nearer and louder. There was a barking of dogs, the cries of children, +and now and again the snatch of a song or a shouted word or two. + +Of the group on the steps within not one stirred, except when Sir James +slowly lowered his upraised hand; and so they waited. + +The company was drawing nearer now; and Chris calculated that they must +be coming down the steep road that led from the town; and even as he +thought it he heard the sound of hoofs on the bridge that crossed the +Winterbourne. + +Dom Anthony pushed by him. + +"To the gate," he said, and went down the step and across the court +followed by the others. As they went the clamour grew loud and near in +the road outside; and a ruddy light shone on the projecting turret of +the gateway. + +Chris was conscious of extraordinary coolness now that the peril was on +him; and he stared up at the studded oak doors, at the wicket cut in one +of the leaves, and the sliding panel that covered the grill, with little +thought but that of conjecture as to how long the destruction of the +gate would take. The others, too, though he was scarcely aware of their +presence, were silent and rigid at his side, as Dom Anthony stepped up +to the closed grill and waited there for the summons. + +It came almost immediately. + +There was a great crescendo of sound as the party turned the corner, and +a flare of light shone under the gate; then the sound of loud talking, a +silence of the hoofs; and a sudden jangle on the bell overhead. + +The monk turned from the grill and lifted his hand. + +Then again the talking grew loud, as the mob swept round the corner +after the horses. + +Still all was silent within. Chris felt his father's hand seek his own a +moment, and grip it; and then above the gabbling clamour a voice spoke +distinctly outside. + +"Have the rats run, then?" + +The bell danced again over their heads; and there was a clatter of raps +on the huge door. + +Dom Anthony slid back the shutter. + + * * * * * + +For a moment it was not noticed outside, for the entry was dark. Chris +could catch a glimpse on either side of the monk's head of a flare of +light, but no more. + +Then the same voice spoke again, and with something of a foreign accent. + +"You are there, then; make haste and open." + +Another voice shouted authoritatively for silence; and the clamour of +tongues died. + +Dom Anthony waited until all was quiet, and then answered steadily. + +"Who are you?" + +There was an oath; the tumult began again, but hushed immediately, as +the same voice that had called for admittance shouted aloud-- + +"Open, I tell you, you bloody monk! We come from the King." + +"Why do you come?" + +A gabble of fierce tongues broke out; Chris pressed up to Dom Anthony's +back, and looked out. The space was very narrow, and he could not see +much more than a man's leg across a saddle, the brown shoulder of a +horse in front, and a smoky haze beyond and over the horse's back. The +leg shifted a little as he watched, as if the rider turned; and then +again the voice pealed out above the tumult. + +"Will you open, sir, for the last time?" + +"I will not," shouted the monk through the grill. "You are nothing +but--" then he dashed the shutter into its place as a stick struck +fiercely at the bars. + +"Back to the cloister," he said. + +The roar outside was tremendous as the six went back across the empty +court; but it fell to a sinister silence as an order or two was shouted +outside; and then again swelled with an excited note in it, as the first +crash sounded on the panels. + +Chris looked at his father as they stood again on the steps fifty yards +away. The old man was standing rigid, his hands at his sides, staring +out towards the arch of the gateway that now thundered like a drum; and +his lips were moving. Once he caught his breath as a voice shouted above +the din outside, and half turned to his son, his hand uplifted as if for +silence. Then again the voice pealed, and Sir James faced round and +stared into Chris's eyes. But neither spoke a word. + +Dom Anthony, who was standing a yard or two in front, turned presently +as the sound of splintering began to be mingled with the reverberations, +and came towards them. His square, full face was steady and alert, and +he spoke with a sharp decision. + +"You and Sir Nicholas, sir, had best be within. My place will be here; +they will be in immediately." + +His words were perfectly distinct here in the open air in spite of the +uproar from the gate. + +There was an indignant burst from the young squire. + +"No, no, father; I shall not stir from here." + +The monk looked at him; but said no more and turned round. + +A sedate voice spoke from the dark doorway behind. + +"John and I have fetched out a table or two, father; we can brace this +door--" + +Dom Anthony turned again. + +"We shall not resist further," he said. + +Then they were silent, for they were helpless. There was nothing to be +done but to stand there and listen to the din, to the crash that +splintered more every moment in the cracked woodwork, and to watch the +high wall and turret solemn and strong against the stars, and bright +here and there at the edges with the light from the torches beneath. The +guest-house opposite them was dark, except for one window in the upper +floor that glowed and faded with the light of the fire that had been +kindled within an hour or two before. + +Sir James took his son suddenly by the arm. + +"And you, Chris--" he said. + +"I shall stay here, father." + +There was a rending thunder from the gate; the wicket reeled in and +fell, and in a moment through the flimsy opening had sprung the figure +of a man. They could see him plainly as he stood there in the light of +the torches, a tall upright figure, a feathered hat on his head, and a +riding cane in his hand. + +The noise was indescribable outside as men fought to get through; there +was one scream of pain, the plunging of a horse, and then a loud steady +roar drowning all else. + +The oblong patch of light was darkened immediately, as another man +sprang through, and then another and another; then a pause--then the +bright flare of a torch shone in the opening; and a moment later a +fellow carrying a flambeau had made his way through. + +The whole space under the arch was now illuminated. Overhead the plain +mouldings shone out and faded as the torch swayed; every brick of the +walls was visible, and the studs and bars of the huge doors. + +Chris had sprung forward by an uncontrollable impulse as the wicket fell +in; and the two monks were now standing motionless on the floor of the +court, side by side, in their black habits and scapulars, hooded and +girded, with the two gentlemen and the servants on the steps behind. + +Chris saw the leaders come together under the arch, as the whole gate +began to groan and bulge under the pressure of the crowd; and a moment +later he caught the flash of steel as the long rapiers whisked out. + +Then above the baying he heard a fierce authoritative voice scream out +an order, and saw that one of the gentlemen in front was at the door, +his rapier protruded before him; and understood the man[oe]uvre. It was +necessary that the mad crowd should be kept back. + +The tumult died and became a murmur; and then one by one a file of +figures came through. In the hand of each was an instrument of some +kind, a pick or a bludgeon; and it was evident that it was these who had +broken in the gate. + +Chris counted them mechanically as they streamed through. There seemed +to be a dozen or so. + +Then again the man who had guarded the door as they came through slipped +back through the opening; and they heard his voice beginning to harangue +the mob. + +But a moment later they had ceased to regard him; for from the archway, +with the torch-bearer beside him, advanced the tall man with the +riding-cane who had been the first to enter; and as he emerged into the +court Chris recognised his brother. + + * * * * * + +He was in a plain rich riding-suit with great boots and plumed hat. He +walked with an easy air as if certain of himself, and neither quickened +nor decreased his pace as he saw the monks and the gentlemen standing +there. + +He halted a couple of yards from them, and Chris saw that his face was +as assured as his gait. His thin lips were tight and firm, and his eyes +with a kind of insolent irony looked up and down the figures of the +monks. There was not the faintest sign of recognition in them. + +"You have given us a great deal of labour," he said, "and to no purpose. +We shall have to report it all to my Lord Cromwell. I understand that +you were the two who refused to sign the surrender. It was the act of +fools, like this last. I have no authority to take you, so you had best +be gone." + +Dom Anthony answered him in an equally steady voice. + +"We are ready to go now," he said. "You understand we have yielded to +nothing but force." + +Ralph's lips writhed in a smile. + +"Oh! if that pleases you," he said. "Well, then--" + +He took a little step aside, and made a movement towards the gate where +there sounded out still an angry hum beneath the shouting voice that was +addressing them. + +Chris turned to his father behind, and the voice died in his throat, so +dreadful was that face that was looking at Ralph. He was standing as +before, rigid it seemed with grief or anger; and his grey eyes were +bright with a tense emotion; his lips too were as firm as his son's. But +he spoke no word. Sir Nicholas was at his side, with one foot advanced, +and in attitude as if to spring; and Morris's face looked like a mask +over his shoulder. + +"Well, then--" said Ralph once more. + +"Ah! you damned hound!" roared the young squire's voice; and his hand +went up with the whip in it. + +Ralph did not move a muscle. He seemed cut in steel. + +"Let us go," said Dom Anthony again, to Chris, almost tenderly; "it is +enough that we are turned out by force." + +"You can go by the church, if you will," said Ralph composedly. "In +fact--" He stopped as the murmur howled up again from the gate--"In +fact you had better go that way. They do not seem to be your friends out +there." + +"We will go whichever way you wish," remarked the elder monk. + +"Then the church," said Ralph, "or some other private door. I suppose +you have one. Most of your houses have one, I believe." + +The sneer snapped the tension. + +Dom Anthony turned his back on him instantly. + +"Come, brother," he said. + +Chris took his father by the arm as he went up the steps. + +"Come, sir," he said, "we are to go this way." + +There was a moment's pause. The old man still stared down at his elder +son, who was standing below in the same position. Chris heard a deep +breath, and thought he was on the point of speaking; but there was +silence. Then the two turned and followed the others into the cloister. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +AXES AND HAMMERS + + +Chris sat next morning at a high window of a house near Saint Michael's +looking down towards the south of the town. + +They had escaped without difficulty the night before through the +church-entrance, with a man whom Ralph sent after them to see that they +carried nothing away, leaving the crowd roaring round the corner of the +gate, and though people looked curiously at the monks, the five laymen +with them protected them from assault. Mr. Morris had found a lodging a +couple of days before, unknown to Chris, in the house of a woman who was +favourable to the Religious, and had guided the party straight there on +the previous evening. + +The two monks had said mass in Saint Michael's that morning before the +town was awake; and were now keeping within doors at Sir James's earnest +request, while the two gentlemen with one of the servants had gone to +see what was being done at the priory. + + * * * * * + +From where Chris sat in his black habit at the leaded window he could +see straight down the opening of the steep street, across the lower +roofs below, to where the great pile of the Priory church less than +half-a-mile away soared up in the sunlight against the water-meadows +where the Ouse ran to the south of the town. + +The street was very empty below him, for every human being that could +do so had gone down to the sacking of the priory. There might be +pickings, scraps gathered from the hoards that the monks were supposed +to have gathered; there would probably be an auction; and there would +certainly be plenty of excitement and pleasure. + +Chris was himself almost numb to sensation. The coolness that had +condensed round his soul last night had hardened into ice; he scarcely +realised what was going on, or how great was the catastrophe into which +his life was plunged. There lay the roofs before him--he ran his eye +from the west tower past the high lantern to the delicate tracery of the +eastern apse and chapels--in the hands of the spoilers; and here he sat +dry-eyed and steady-mouthed looking down on it, as a man looks at a +wound not yet begun to smart. + +It was piteously clear and still. Smoke was rising from a fire somewhere +behind the church, a noise as of metal on stone chinked steadily, and +the voices of men calling one to another sounded continually from the +enclosure. Now and again the tiny figure of a workman showed clear on +the roof, pick in hand; or leaning to call directions down to his +fellows beneath. + +Dom Anthony looked in presently, breviary in hand, and knelt by Chris on +the window-step, watching too; but he spoke no word, glanced at the +white face and sunken eyes of the other, sighed once or twice, and went +out again. + +The morning passed on and still Chris watched. By eleven o'clock the men +were gone from the roof; half an hour had passed, and no further figure +had appeared. + +There were footsteps on the stairs; and Sir James came in. + +He came straight across to his son and sat down by him. Chris looked at +him. The old man nodded. + +"Yes, my son," he said, "they are at it. Nothing is to be left, but the +cloister and guest-house. The church is to be down in a week they say." + +Chris looked at him dully. + +"All?" he said. + +"All the church, my son." + +Sir James gave an account of what he had seen. He had made his way in +with Nicholas and a few other persons, into the court; but had not been +allowed to enter the cloister. There was a furnace being made ready in +the calefactorium for the melting of the lead, he had been told by one +of the men; and the church, as he had seen for himself, was full of +workmen. + +"And the Blessed Sacrament?" asked Chris. + +"A priest was sent for this morning to carry It away to a church; I know +not which." + +Sir James described the method of destruction. + +They were beginning with the apse and the chapels behind the high altar. +The ornaments had been removed, the images piled in a great heap in the +outer court, and the brasses had been torn up. There were half a dozen +masons busy at undercutting the pillars and walls; and as they excavated +the carpenters made wooden insertions to prop up the weight. The men had +been brought down from London, as the commissioners were not certain of +the temper of the Lewes people. Two of the four great pillars behind the +high altar were already cut half through. + +"And Ralph?" + +The old man's face grew tense and bitter. + +"I saw him in the roof," he said; "he made as if he did not see me." + +They were half-through dinner before Nicholas joined them. He was +flushed and dusty and furious. + +"Ah! the hounds!" he said, as he stood at the door, trembling. "They +say they will have the chapels down before night. They have stripped the +lead." + +Sir James looked up and motioned him to sit down. + +"We will go down again presently," he said. + +"But we have saved our luggage," went on Nicholas, taking his seat; "and +there was a parcel of yours, Chris, that I put with it. It is all to be +sent up with the horses to-night." + +"Did you speak with Mr. Ralph?" asked Dom Anthony. + +"Ah! I did; the dog! and I told him what I thought. But he dared not +refuse me the luggage. John is to go for it all to-night." + +He told them during dinner another fact that he had learned. + +"You know who is to have it all?" he said fiercely, his fingers +twitching with emotion. + +"It is Master Gregory Cromwell, and his wife, and his baby. A fine +nursery!" + + * * * * * + +As the evening drew on, Chris was again at the window alone. He had said +his office earlier in the afternoon, and sat here again now, with his +hands before him, staring down at the church. + +One of the servants had come up with a message from Sir James an hour +before telling him not to expect them before dusk; and that they would +send up news of any further developments. The whole town was there, said +the man: it had been found impossible to keep them out. Dom Anthony +presently came again and sat with Chris; and Mr. Morris, who had been +left as a safeguard to the monks, slipped in soon after and stood behind +the two; and so the three waited. + +The sky was beginning to glow again as it had done last night with the +clear radiance of a cloudless sunset; and the tall west tower stood up +bright in the glory. How infinitely far away last night seemed now, +little and yet distinct as a landscape seen through a reversed +telescope! How far away that silent waiting at the cloister door, the +clamour at the gate, the forced entrance, the slipping away through the +church! + +The smoke was rising faster than ever now from the great chimney, and +hung in a cloud above the buildings. Perhaps even now the lead was being +cast. + +There was a clatter at the corner of the cobbled street below, and Dom +Anthony leaned from the window. He drew back. + +"It is the horses," he said. + +The servant presently came up to announce that the two gentlemen were +following immediately, and that he had had orders to procure horses and +saddle them at once. He had understood Sir James to say that they must +leave that night. + +Mr. Morris hurried out to see to the packing. + +In five minutes the gentlemen themselves appeared. + +Sir James came quickly across to the two monks. + +"We must go to-night, Chris," he said. "We had words with Portinari. You +must not remain longer in the town." + +Chris looked at him. + +"Yes?" he said. + +"And the chapels will be down immediately. Oh! dear God!" + +Dom Anthony made room for the old man to sit down in the window-seat; +and himself stood behind the two with Nicholas; and so again they +watched. + +The light was fading fast now, and in the windows below lights were +beginning to shine. The square western tower that dominated the whole +priory had lost its splendour, and stood up strong and pale against the +meadows. There was a red flare of light somewhere over the wall of the +court, and the inner side of the gate-turret was illuminated by it. + +A tense excitement lay on the watchers; and no sound came from them but +that of quick breathing as they waited for what they knew was imminent. + +Outside the evening was wonderfully still; they could hear two men +talking somewhere in the street below; but from the priory came no +sound. The chink of the picks was still, and the cries of the workmen. +Far away beyond the castle on their left came an insistent barking of a +dog; and once, when a horseman rode by below Chris bit his lip with +vexation, for it seemed to him like the disturbing of a death bed. A +star or two looked out, vanished, and peeped again from the luminous +sky, to the south, and the downs beneath were grey and hazy. + +All the watchers now had their eyes on the eastern end of the church +that lay in dim shadow; they could see the roof of the vault behind +where the high altar lay beneath; the flying buttress of a chapel below; +and, nearer, the low roof of the Lady-chapel. + +Chris kept his eyes strained on the upper vault, for there, he knew the +first movement would show itself. + +The time seemed interminable. He moistened his dry lips from time to +time, shifted his position a little, and moved his elbow from the sharp +moulding of the window-frame. + +Then he caught his breath. + +From where he sat, in the direct line of his eyes, the top of a patch of +evergreen copse was visible just beyond the roof of the vault; and as +he looked he saw that a patch of paler green had appeared below it. All +in a moment he saw too the flying buttress crook itself like an elbow +and disappear. Then the vault was gone and the roof beyond; the walls +sank with incredible slowness and vanished. + +A cloud of white dust puffed up like smoke. + +Then through the open window came the roar of the tumbling masonry; and +shrill above it the clamour of a great crowd. + + + + +BOOK III + +THE KING'S GRATITUDE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +A SCHEME + + +The period that followed the destruction of Lewes Priory held very +strange months for Chris. He had slipped out of the stream into a +back-water, from which he could watch the swift movements of the time, +while himself undisturbed by them; for no further notice was taken of +his refusal to sign the surrender or of his resistance to the +Commissioners. The hands of the authorities were so full of business +that apparently it was not worth their while to trouble about an +inoffensive monk of no particular notoriety, who after all had done +little except in a negative way, and who appeared now to acquiesce in +silence and seclusion. + +The household at Overfield was of a very mixed nature. Dom Anthony after +a month or two had left for the Continent to take up his vocation in a +Benedictine house; and Sir James and his wife, Chris, Margaret, and Mr. +Carleton remained together. For the present Chris and Margaret were +determined to wait, for a hundred things might intervene--Henry's death, +a changing of his mind, a foreign invasion on the part of the Catholic +powers, an internal revolt in England, and such things--and set the +clock back again, and, unlike Dom Anthony, they had a home where they +could follow their Rules in tolerable comfort. + +The country was indeed very deeply stirred by the events that were +taking place; but for the present, partly from terror and partly from +the great forces that were brought to bear upon English convictions, it +gave no expression to its emotion. The methods that Cromwell had +employed with such skill in the past were still active. On the worldly +side there was held out to the people the hope of relieved taxation, of +the distribution of monastic wealth and lands; on the spiritual side the +bishops under Cranmer were zealous in controverting the old principles +and throwing doubt upon the authority of the Pope. It was impossible for +the unlearned to know what to believe; new manifestoes were issued +continually by the King and clergy, full of learned arguments and +persuasive appeals; and the professors of the old religion were +continually discredited by accusations of fraud, avarice, immorality, +hypocrisy and the like. They were silenced, too; while active and +eloquent preachers like Latimer raged from pulpit to pulpit, denouncing, +expounding, convincing. + +Meanwhile the work went on rapidly. The summer and autumn of '38 saw +again destruction after destruction of Religious Houses and objects of +veneration; and the intimidation of the most influential personages on +the Catholic side. + +In February, for example, the rood of Boxley was brought up to London +with every indignity, and after being exhibited with shouts of laughter +at Whitehall, and preached against at Paul's Cross, it was tossed down +among the zealous citizens and smashed to pieces. In the summer, among +others, the shrine of St. Swithun at Winchester was defaced and robbed; +and in the autumn that followed the friaries which had stood out so long +began to fall right and left. In October the Holy Blood of Hayles, a +relic brought from the East in the thirteenth century and preserved +with great love and honour ever since, was taken from its resting place +and exposed to ridicule in London. Finally in the same month, after St. +Thomas of Canterbury had been solemnly declared a traitor to his prince, +his name, images and pictures ordered to be erased and destroyed out of +every book, window and wall, and he himself summoned with grotesque +solemnity to answer the charges brought against him, his relics were +seized and burned, and--which was more to the point in the King's view, +his shrine was stripped of its gold and jewels and vestments, which were +conveyed in a string of twenty-six carts to the King's treasury. The +following year events were yet more terrible. The few great houses that +survived were one by one brought within reach of the King's hand; and +those that did not voluntarily surrender fell under the heavier +penalties of attainder. Abbot Whiting of Glastonbury was sent up to +London in September, and two months later suffered on Tor hill within +sight of the monastery he had ruled so long and so justly; and on the +same day the Abbot of Reading suffered too outside his own gateway. Six +weeks afterwards Abbot Marshall, of Colchester, was also put to death. + + * * * * * + +It was a piteous life that devout persons led at this time; and few were +more unhappy than the household at Overfield. It was the more miserable +because Lady Torridon herself was so entirely out of sympathy with the +others. While she was not often the actual bearer of ill news--for she +had neither sufficient strenuousness nor opportunity for it--it was +impossible to doubt that she enjoyed its arrival. + +They were all together at supper one warm summer evening when a servant +came in to announce that a monk of St. Swithun's was asking hospitality. +Sir James glanced at his wife who sat with passive downcast face; and +then ordered the priest to be brought in. + +He was a timid, tactless man who failed to grasp the situation, and when +the wine and food had warmed his heart he began to talk a great deal too +freely, taking it for granted that all there were in sympathy with him. +He addressed himself chiefly to Chris, who answered courteously; and +described the sacking of the shrine at some length. + +"He had already set aside our cross called Hierusalem," cried the monk, +his weak face looking infinitely pathetic with its mingled sorrow and +anger, "and two of our gold chalices, to take them with him when he +went; and then with his knives and hammers, as the psalmist tells us, he +hacked off the silver plates from the shrine. There was a fellow I knew +very well--he had been to me to confession two days before--who held a +candle and laughed. And then when all was done; and that was not till +three o'clock in the morning, one of the smiths tested the metal and +cried out that there was not one piece of true gold in it all. And Mr. +Pollard raged at us for it, and told us that our gold was as counterfeit +as the rotten bones that we worshipped. But indeed there was plenty of +gold; and the man lied; for it was a very rich shrine. God's vengeance +will fall on them for their lies and their robbery. Is it not so, +mistress?" + +Lady Torridon lifted her eyes and looked at him. Her husband hastened to +interpose. + +"Have you finished your wine, father?" + +The monk seemed not to hear him; and his talk flowed on about the +destruction of the high altar and the spoiling of the reredos, which had +taken place on the following days; and as he talked he filled his +Venetian glass more than once and drank it off; and his lantern face +grew flushed and his eyes animated. Chris saw that his mother was +watching the monk shrewdly and narrowly, and feared what might come. But +it was unavoidable. + +"We poor monks," the priest cried presently, "shall soon be cast out to +beg our bread. The King's Grace--" + +"Is not poverty one of the monastic vows?" put in Lady Torridon +suddenly, still looking steadily at his half-drunk glass. + +"Why, yes, mistress; and the King's Grace is determined to make us keep +it, it seems." + +He lifted his glass and finished it; and put out his hand again to the +bottle. + +"But that is a good work, surely," smiled the other. "It will be surely +a safeguard against surfeiting and drunkenness." + +Sir James rose instantly. + +"Come, father," he said to the staring monk, "you will be tired out, and +will want your bed." + +A slow smile shone and faded on his wife's face as she rose and rustled +down the long hall. + + * * * * * + +Such incidents as this made life at Overfield very difficult for them +all; it was hard for these sore hearts to be continually on the watch +for dangerous subjects, and only to be able to comfort one another when +the mistress of the house was absent; but above all it was difficult for +Margaret. She was nearly as silent as her mother, but infinitely more +tender; and since the two were naturally together for the most part, +except when the nun was at her long prayers, there were often very +difficult and painful incidents. + +For the first eighteen months after her return her mother let her +alone; but as time went on and the girl's resolution persevered, she +began to be subjected to a distressing form of slight persecution. + +For example: Chris and his father came in one day in the autumn from a +walk through the priory garden that lay beyond the western moat. As they +passed in the level sunshine along the prim box-lined paths, and had +reached the centre where the dial stood, they heard voices in the +summer-house that stood on the right behind a yew hedge. + +Sir James hesitated a moment; and as he waited heard Margaret's voice +with a thrill of passion in it. + +"I cannot listen to that, mother. It is wicked to say such things." + +The two turned instantly, passed along the path and came round the +corner. + +Margaret was standing with one hand on the little table, half-turned to +go. Her eyes were alight with indignation, and her lips trembled. Her +mother sat on the other side, her silver-handled stick beside her, and +her hands folded serenely together. + +Sir James looked from one to the other; and there fell a silence. + +"Are you coming with us, Margaret?" he said. + +The girl still hesitated a moment, glancing at her mother, and then +stepped out of the summer-house. Chris saw that bitter smile writhe and +die on the elder woman's face, but she said nothing. + +Margaret burst out presently when they had crossed the moat and were +coming up to the long grey-towered house. + +"I cannot bear such talk, father," she said, with her eyes bright with +angry tears, "she was saying such things about Rusper, and how idle we +all were there, and how foolish." + +"You must not mind it, my darling. Your mother does not--does not +understand." + +"There was never any one like Mother Abbess," went on the girl. "I never +saw her idle or out of humour; and--and we were all so busy and happy." + +Her eyes overflowed a moment; her father put his arm tenderly round her +shoulders, and they went in together. + +It was a terrible thing for Margaret to be thrown like this out of the +one life that was a reality to her. As she looked back now it seemed as +if the convent shone glorified and beautiful in a haze of grace. The +discipline of the house had ordered and inspired the associations on +which memories afterwards depend, and had excluded the discordant notes +that spoil the harmonies of secular life. The chapel, with its delicate +windows, its oak rails, its scent of flowers and incense, its tiled +floor, its single row of carved woodwork and the crosier by the Abbess's +seat, was a place of silence instinct with a Divine Presence that +radiated from the hanging pyx; it was these particular things, and not +others like them, that had been the scene of her romance with God, her +aspirations, tendernesses, tears and joys. She had walked in the tiny +cloister with her Lover in her heart, and the glazed laurel-leaves that +rattled in the garth had been musical with His voice; it was in her +little white cell that she had learned to sleep in His arms and to wake +to the brightness of His Face. And now all this was dissipated. There +were other associations with her home, of childish sorrows and passions +before she had known God, of hunting-parties and genial ruddy men who +smelt of fur and blood, of her mother's chilly steady presence-- +associations that jarred with the inner life; whereas in the convent +there had been nothing that was not redolent with efforts and rewards of +the soul. Even without her mother life would have been hard enough now +at Overfield; with her it was nearly intolerable. + +Chris, however, was able to do a good deal for the girl; for he had +suffered in the same way; and had the advantage of a man's strength. She +could talk to him as to no one else of the knowledge of the interior +vocation in both of them that persevered in spite of their ejection from +the cloister; and he was able to remind her that the essence of the +enclosure, under these circumstances, lay in the spirit and not in +material stones. + +It was an advantage for Chris too to have her under his protection. The +fact that he had to teach her and remind her of facts that they both +knew, made them more real to himself; and to him as to her there came +gradually a kind of sorrow-shot contentment that deepened month by month +in spite of their strange and distracting surroundings. + +But he was not wholly happy about her; she was silent and lonely +sometimes; he began to see what an immense advantage it would be to her +in the peculiarly difficult circumstances of the time, to have some one +of her own sex and sympathies at hand. But he did not see how it could +be arranged. For the present it was impossible for her to enter the +Religious Life, except by going abroad; and so long as there was the +faintest hope of the convents being restored in England, both she and +her father and brother shrank from the step. And the hope was increased +by the issue of the Six Articles in the following May, by which +Transubstantiation was declared to be a revealed dogma, to be held on +penalty of death by burning; and communion in one kind, the celibacy of +the clergy, the perpetuity of the vow of chastity, private masses, and +auricular confession were alike ratified as parts of the Faith held by +the Church of which Henry had made himself head. + +Yet as time went on, and there were no signs of the restoration of the +Religious Houses, Chris began to wonder again as to what was best for +Margaret. Perhaps until matters developed it would be well for her to +have some friend in whom she could confide, even if only to relax the +strain for a few weeks. He went to his father one day in the autumn and +laid his views before him. + +Sir James nodded and seemed to understand. + +"Do you think Mary would be of any service?" + +Chris hesitated. + +"Yes, sir, I think so--but--" + +His father looked at him. + +"It is a stranger I think that would help her more. Perhaps another +nun--?" + +"My dear lad, I dare not ask another nun. Your mother--" + +"I know," said Chris. + +"Well, I will think of it," said the other. + +A couple of days later Sir James took him aside after supper into his +own private room. + +"Chris," he said, "I have been thinking of what you said. And Mary shall +certainly come here for Christmas, with Nick; but--but there is someone +else too I would like to ask." + +He looked at his son with an odd expression. + +Chris could not imagine what this meant. + +"It is Mistress Atherton," went on the other. "You see you know her a +little--at least you have seen her; and there is Ralph. And from all +that I have heard of her--her friendship with Master More and the rest, +I think she might be the very friend for poor Meg. Do you think she +would come, Chris?" + +Chris was silent. He could not yet fully dissociate the thought of +Beatrice from the memory of the time when she had taken Ralph's part. +Besides, was it possible to ask her under the circumstances? + +"Then there was one more thing that I never told you;" went on his +father, "there was no use in it. But I went to see Mistress Atherton +when she was betrothed to Ralph. I saw her in London; and I think I may +say we made friends. And she has very few now; she keeps herself aloof. +Folks are afraid of her too. I think it would be a kindness to her. I +could not understand how she could marry Ralph; and now that is +explained." + +Chris was startled by this news. His father had not breathed a word of +it before. + +"She made me promise," went on Sir James, "to tell her if Ralph did +anything unworthy. It was after the first news had reached her of what +the Visitors were doing. And I told her, of course, about Rusper. I +think we owe her something. And I think too from what I saw of her that +she might make her way with your mother." + +"It might succeed," said Chris doubtfully, "but it is surely difficult +for her to come--" + +"I know--yes--with Ralph and her betrothal. But if we can ask her, +surely she can come. I can tell her how much we need her. I would send +Meg to Great Keynes, if I dared, but I dare not. It is not so safe there +as here; she had best keep quiet." + +They talked about it a few minutes more, and Chris became more inclined +to it. From what he remembered of Beatrice and the impression that she +had made on him in those few fierce minutes in Ralph's house he began to +see that she would probably be able to hold her own; and if only +Margaret would take to her, the elder girl might be of great service in +establishing the younger. It was an odd and rather piquant idea, and +gradually took hold of his imagination. It was a very extreme step to +take, considering that she had broken off her betrothal to the eldest +son of the house; but against that was set the fact that she would not +meet him there; and that her presence would be really valued by at least +four-fifths of the household. + +It was decided that Lady Torridon should be told immediately; and a day +or two later Sir James came to Chris in the garden to tell him that she +had consented. + +"I do not understand it at all," said the old man, "but your mother +seemed very willing. I wonder--" + +And then he stopped abruptly. + +The letter was sent. Chris saw it and the strong appeal it contained +that Beatrice should come to the aid of a nun who was pining for want of +companionship. A day or two later brought down the answer that Mistress +Atherton would have great pleasure in coming a week before Christmas. + + * * * * * + +Margaret had a fit of shyness when the day came for her arrival. It was +a clear frosty afternoon, with a keen turquoise sky overhead, and she +wandered out in her habit down the slope to the moat, crossed the +bridge, glancing at the thin ice and the sedge that pierced it, and came +up into the private garden. She knew she could hear the sounds of wheels +from there, and had an instinctive shrinking from being at the house +when the stranger arrived. + +The grass walks were crisp to the foot; the plants in the deep beds +rested in a rigid stillness with a black blossom or two drooping here +and there; and the hollies beyond the yew hedge lifted masses of green +lit by scarlet against the pale sky. Her breath went up like smoke as +she walked softly up and down. + +There was no sound to disturb her. Once she heard the clink of the +blacksmith's forge half a mile away in the village; once a blackbird +dashed chattering from a hedge, scudded in a long dip, and rose again +over it; a robin followed her in brisk hops, with a kind of pathetic +impertinence in his round eye, as he wondered whether this human +creature's footsteps would not break the iron armour of the ground and +give him a chance to live. + +She wondered a thousand things as she went; what kind of a woman this +was that was coming, how she would look, why she had not married Ralph, +and above all, whether she understood--whether she understood! + +A kind of frost had fallen on her own soul; she could find no sustenance +there; it was all there, she knew, all the mysterious life that had +rioted within her like spring, in the convent, breathing its fragrances, +bewildering in its wealth of shape and colour. But an icy breath had +petrified it all; it had sunk down out of sight; it needed a soul like +her own, feminine and sympathetic, a soul that had experienced the same +things as her own, that knew the tenderness and love of the Saviour, to +melt that frigid covering and draw out the essences and sweetness again, +that lay there paralysed by this icy environment.... + +There were wheels at last. + +She gathered up her black skirt, and ran to the edge of the low yews +that bounded the garden on the north; and as she caught a glimpse of the +nodding heads of the postilions, the plumes of their mounts, and the +great carriage-roof swaying in the iron ruts, she shrank back again, in +an agony of shyness, terrified of being seen. + +The sky had deepened to flaming orange in the west, barred by the tall +pines, before she unlatched the garden-gate to go back to the house. + +The windows shone out bright and inviting from the parlour on the +ground-floor and from beneath the high gable of the hall as she came up +the slope. Mistress Atherton, she knew, would be in one of these rooms +if she had not already gone up stairs; and with an instinct of shyness +still strong within her the girl slipped round to the back, and passed +in through the chapel. + +The court was lighted by a link that flared beside one of the doorways +on the left, and a couple of great trunks lay below it. A servant came +out as she stood there hesitating, and she called to him softly to know +where was Mistress Atherton. + +"She is in the parlour, Mistress Margaret," said the man. + +The girl went slowly across to the corner doorway, glancing at the +parlour windows as she passed; but the curtains were drawn on this side, +and she could catch no glimpse of the party within. + +The little entrance passage was dark; but she could hear a murmur of +voices as she stood there, still hesitating. Then she opened the door +suddenly, and went into the room. + +Her mother was speaking; and the girl heard those icy detached tones as +she looked round the group. + +"It must be very difficult for you, Mistress Atherton, in these days." + +Margaret saw her father standing at the window-seat, and Chris beside +him; and in a moment saw that the faces of both were troubled and +uneasy. + +A tall girl was in the chair opposite, her hands lying easily on the +arms and her head thrown back almost negligently. She was well dressed, +with furs about her throat; her buckled feet were crossed before the +blaze, and her fingers shone with jewels. Her face was pale; her +scarlet lips were smiling, and there was a certain keen and genial +amusement in her black eyes. + +She looked magnificent, thought Margaret, still standing with her hand +on the door--too magnificent. + +Her father made a movement, it seemed of relief, as his daughter came +in; but Lady Torridon, very upright in her chair on this side, went on +immediately. + +--"With your opinions, Mistress Atherton, I mean. I suppose all that you +consider sacred is being insulted, in your eyes." + +The tall girl glanced at Margaret with the amusement still in her face, +and then answered with a deliberate incisiveness that equalled Lady +Torridon's own. + +"Not so difficult," she said, "as for those who have no opinions." + +There was a momentary pause; and then she added, as she stood up and Sir +James came forward. + +"I am very sorry for them, Mistress Torridon." + +Before Lady Torridon could answer, Sir James had broken in. + +"This is my daughter Margaret, Mistress Atherton." + +The two ladies saluted one another. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A DUEL + + +Margaret watched Beatrice with growing excitement that evening, in which +was mingled something of awe and something of attraction. She had never +seen anyone so serenely self-possessed. + +It became evident during supper, beyond the possibility of mistake, that +Lady Torridon had planned war against the guest, who was a +representative in her eyes of all that was narrow-minded and +contemptible. Here was a girl, she seemed to tell herself, who had had +every opportunity of emancipation, who had been singularly favoured in +being noticed by Ralph, and who had audaciously thrown him over for the +sake of some ridiculous scruples worthy only of idiots and nuns. Indeed +to Chris it was fairly plain that his mother had consented so willingly +to Beatrice's visit with the express purpose of punishing her. + +But Beatrice held her own triumphantly. + + * * * * * + +They had not sat down three minutes before Lady Torridon opened the +assault, with grave downcast face and in her silkiest manner. She went +abruptly back to the point where the conversation had been interrupted +in the parlour by Margaret's entrance. + +"Mistress Atherton," she observed, playing delicately with her spoon, "I +think you said that to your mind the times were difficult for those who +had no opinions." + +Beatrice looked at her pleasantly. + +"Yes, Mistress Torridon; at least more difficult for those, than for the +others who know their own mind." + +The other waited a moment, expecting the girl to justify herself, but +she was forced to go on. + +"Abbot Marshall knew his mind, but it was not easy for him." + +(The news had just arrived of the Abbot's execution). + +"Do you think not, mistress? I fear I still hold my opinion." + +"And what do you mean by that?" + +"I mean that unless we have something to hold to, in these troublesome +times, we shall drift. That is all." + +"Ah! and drift whither?" + +Beatrice smiled so genially as she answered, that the other had no +excuse for taking offence. + +"Well, it might be better not to answer that." + +Lady Torridon looked at her with an impassive face. + +"To hell, then?" she said. + +"Well, yes: to hell," said Beatrice. + +There was a profound silence; broken by the stifled merriment of a +servant behind the chairs, who transformed it hastily into a cough. Sir +James glanced across in great distress at his son; but Chris' eyes +twinkled at him. + +Lady Torridon was silent a moment, completely taken aback by the +suddenness with which the battle had broken, and amazed by the girl's +audacity. She herself was accustomed to use brutality, but not to meet +it. She laid her spoon carefully down. + +"Ah!" she said, "and you believe that? And for those who hold wrong +opinions, I suppose you would believe the same?" + +"If they were wrong enough," said Beatrice, "and through their fault. +Surely we are taught to believe that, Mistress Torridon?" + +The elder woman said nothing at all, and went on with her soup. Her +silence was almost more formidable than her speech, and she knew that, +and contrived to make it offensive. Beatrice paid no sort of attention +to it, however; and without looking at her again began to talk +cheerfully to Sir James about her journey from town. Margaret watched +her, fascinated; her sedate beautiful face, her lace and jewels, her +white fingers, long and straight, that seemed to endorse the impression +of strength that her carriage and manner of speaking suggested; as one +might watch a swordsman between the rounds of a duel and calculate his +chances. She knew very well that her mother would not take her first +repulse easily; and waited in anxiety for the next clash of swords. + +Beatrice seemed perfectly fearless, and was talking about the King with +complete freedom, and yet with a certain discretion too. + +"He will have his way," she said. "Who can doubt that?" + +Lady Torridon saw an opening for a wound, and leapt at it. + +"As he had with Master More," she put in. + +Beatrice turned her head a little, but made no answer; and there was not +the shadow of wincing on her steady face. + +"As he had with Master More," said Lady Torridon a little louder. + +"We must remember that he has my Lord Cromwell to help him," observed +Beatrice tranquilly. + +Lady Torridon looked at her again. Even now she could scarcely believe +that this stranger could treat her with such a supreme indifference. And +there was a further sting, too, in the girl's answer, for all there +understood the reference to Ralph; and yet again it was impossible to +take offence. + +Margaret looked at her father, half-frightened, and saw again a look of +anxiety in his eyes; he was crumbling his bread nervously as he answered +Beatrice. + +"My Lord Cromwell--" he began. + +"My Lord Cromwell has my son Ralph under him," interrupted his wife. +"Perhaps you did not know that, Mistress Atherton." + +Margaret again looked quickly up; but there was still no sign of wincing +on those scarlet lips, or beneath the black eyebrows. + +"Why, of course, I knew it," said Beatrice, looking straight at her with +large, innocent eyes, "that was why--" + +She stopped; and Lady Torridon really roused now, made a false step. + +"Yes?" she said. "You did not end your sentence?" + +Beatrice cast an ironically despairing look behind her at the servants. + +"Well," she said, "if you will have it: that was why I would not marry +him. Did you not know that, Mistress?" + +It was so daring that Margaret caught her breath suddenly; and looked +hopelessly round. Her father and brother had their eyes steadily bent on +the table; and the priest was looking oddly at the quiet angry woman +opposite him. + +Then Sir James slid deftly in, after a sufficient pause to let the +lesson sink home; and began to talk of indifferent things; and Beatrice +answered him with the same ease. + +Lady Torridon made one more attempt just before the end of supper, when +the servants had left the room. + +"You are living on--" she corrected herself ostentatiously--"you are +living with any other family now, Mistress Atherton? I remember my son +Ralph telling me you were almost one of Master More's household." + +Beatrice met her eyes with a delightful smile. + +"I am living on--with your family at this time, Mistress Torridon." + +There was no more to be said just then. The girl had not only turned her +hostess' point, but had pricked her shrewdly in riposte, three times; +and the last was the sharpest of all. + +Lady Torridon led the way to the oak parlour in silence. + + * * * * * + +She made no more assaults that night; but sat in dignified aloofness, +her hands on her lap, with an air of being unconscious of the presence +of the others. Beatrice sat with Margaret on the long oak settle; and +talked genially to the company at large. + +When compline had been said, Sir James drew Chris aside into the +star-lit court as the others went on in front. + +"Dear lad," he said, "what are we to do? This cannot go on. Your +mother--" + +Chris smiled at him, and took his arm a moment. + +"Why, father," he said, "what more do we want? Mistress Atherton can +hold her own." + +"But your mother will insult her." + +"She will not be able," said Chris. "Mistress Atherton will not have it. +Did you not see how she enjoyed it?" + +"Enjoyed it?" + +"Why, yes; her eyes shone." + +"Well, I must speak to her," said Sir James, still perplexed. "Come with +me, Chris." + +Mr. Carleton was just leaving the parlour as they came up to its +outside door. Sir James drew him into the yard. There were no secrets +between these two. + +"Father," he said, "did you notice? Do you think Mistress Atherton will +be able to stay here?" + +He saw to his astonishment that the priest's melancholy face, as the +starlight fell on it, was smiling. + +"Why, yes, Sir James. She is happy enough." + +"But my wife--" + +"Sir James, I think Mistress Atherton may do her good. She--" he +hesitated. + +"Well?" said the old man. + +"She--Lady Torridon has met her match," said the chaplain, still +smiling. + +Sir James made a little gesture of bewilderment. + +"Well, come in, Chris. I do not understand; but if you both think so--" + +He broke off and opened the door. + +Lady Torridon was gone to her room; and the two girls were alone. +Beatrice was standing before the hearth with her hands behind her +back--a gallant upright figure; as they came in, she turned a cheerful +face to them. + +"Your daughter has been apologising, Sir James," she said; and there was +a ripple of amusement in her voice. "She thinks I have been hardly +treated." + +She glanced at the bewildered Margaret, who was staring at her under her +delicate eyebrows with wide eyes of amazement and admiration. + +Sir James looked confused. + +"The truth is, Mistress Atherton, that I too--and my son--" + +"Well, not your son," said Chris smiling. + +"You too!" cried Beatrice. "And how have I been hardly treated?" + +"Well, I thought perhaps, that what was said at supper--" began the old +man, beginning to smile too. + +"Lady Torridon, and every one, has been all that is hospitable," said +Beatrice. "It is like old days at Chelsea. I love word-fencing; and +there are so few who practise it." + +Sir James was still a little perplexed. + +"You assure me, Mistress, that you are not distressed by--by anything +that has passed?" + +"Distressed!" she cried. "Why, it is a real happiness!" + +But he was not yet satisfied. + +"You will engage to tell me then, if you think you are improperly +treated by--by anyone--?" + +"Why, yes," said the girl, smiling into his eyes. "But there is no need +to promise that. I am really happy; and I am sure your daughter and I +will be good friends." + +She turned a little towards Margaret; and Chris saw a curious emotion of +awe and astonishment and affection in his sister's eyes. + +"Come, my dear," said Beatrice. "You said you would take me to my room." + +Sir James hastened to push open the further door that led to the stairs; +and the two girls passed out together. + +Then he shut the door, and turned to his son. Chris had begun to laugh. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A PEACE-MAKER + + +It was a very strange household that Christmas at Overfield. Mary and +her husband came over with their child, and the entire party, with the +exception of the duellists themselves, settled down to watch the +conflict between Lady Torridon and Beatrice Atherton. Its prolongation +was possible because for days together the hostess retired into a +fortress of silence, whence she looked out cynically, shrugged her +shoulders, smiled almost imperceptibly, and only sallied when she found +she could not provoke an attack. Beatrice never made an assault; was +always ready for the least hint of peace; but guarded deftly and struck +hard when she was directly threatened. Neither would she ever take an +insult; the bitterest dart fell innocuous on her bright shield before +she struck back smiling; but there were some sharp moments of anxiety +now and again as she hesitated how to guard. + +A silence would fall suddenly in the midst of the talk and clatter at +table; there would be a momentary kindling of glances, as from the tall +chair opposite the chaplain a psychological atmosphere of peril made +itself felt; then the blow would be delivered; the weapons clashed; and +once more the talk rose high and genial over the battlefield. + + * * * * * + +The moment when Beatrice's position in the house came nearest to being +untenable, was one morning in January, when the whole party were +assembled on the steps to see the sportsmen off for the day. + +Sir James was down with the foresters and hounds at the further end of +the terrace, arranging the details of the day; Margaret had not yet come +out of chapel, and Lady Torridon, who had had a long fit of silence, was +standing with Mary and Nicholas at the head of the central stairs that +led down from the terrace to the gravel. + +Christopher and Beatrice came out of the house behind, talking +cheerfully; for the two had become great friends since they had learnt +to understand one another, and Beatrice had confessed to him frankly +that she had been wrong and he right in the matter of Ralph. She had +told him this a couple of days after her arrival; but there had been a +certain constraint in her manner that forbade his saying much in answer. +Here they came then, now, in the frosty sunshine; he in his habit and +she in her morning house-dress of silk and lace, talking briskly. + +"I was sure you would understand, father," she said, as they came up +behind the group. + +Then Lady Torridon turned and delivered her point, suddenly and +brutally. + +"Of course he will," she said. "I suppose then you are not going out, +Mistress Atherton." And she glanced with an offensive contempt at the +girl and the monk. Beatrice's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and +opened again. + +"Why, no, Lady Torridon." + +"I thought not," said the other; and again she glanced at the two--"for +I see the priest is not." + +There was a moment's silence. Nick was looking at his wife with a face +of dismay. Then Beatrice answered smiling. + +"Neither are you, dear Lady Torridon. Is not that enough to keep me?" + +A short yelp of laughter broke from Nicholas; and he stooped to examine +his boot. + +Lady Torridon opened her lips, closed them again, and turned her back on +the girl. + +"But you are cruel," said Beatrice's voice from behind, "and--" + +The woman turned once more venomously. + +"You do not want me," she said. "You have taken one son of mine, and now +you would take the other. Is not my daughter enough?" + +Beatrice instantly stepped up, and put her hand on the other's arm. + +"Dear Mistress," she said; and her voice broke into tenderness; "she is +not enough--" + +Lady Torridon jerked her arm away. + +"Come, Mary," she said. + + * * * * * + +Matters were a little better after that. Sir James was not told of the +incident; because his son knew very well that he would not allow +Beatrice to stay another day after the insult; but Chris felt himself +bound to consult those who had heard what had passed as to whether +indeed it was possible for her to remain. Nicholas grew crimson with +indignation and vowed it was impossible. Mary hesitated; and Chris +himself was doubtful. He went at last to Beatrice that same evening; and +found her alone in the oak parlour, before supper. The sportsmen had not +yet come back; and the other ladies were upstairs. + +Beatrice affected to treat it as nothing; and it was not till Chris +threatened to tell his father, that she told him all she thought. + +"I must seem a vain fool to say so;" she said, leaning back in her +chair, and looking up at him, "and perhaps insolent too; yet I must say +it. It is this: I believe that Lady Torridon--Ah! how can I say it?" + +"Tell me," said Chris steadily, looking away from her. + +Beatrice shifted a little in her seat; and then stood up. + +"Well, it is this. I do not believe your mother is so--so--is what she +sometimes seems. I think she is very sore and angry; there are a hundred +reasons. I think no one has--has faced her before. She has been obeyed +too much. And--and I think that if I stay I may be able--I may be some +good," she ended lamely. + +Chris nodded. + +"I understand," he said softly. + +"Give me another week or two," said Beatrice, "I will do my best." + +"You have worked a miracle with Meg," said Chris. "I believe you can +work another. I will not tell my father; and the others shall not +either." + + * * * * * + +A wonderful change had indeed come to Margaret during the last month. +Her whole soul, so cramped now by circumstances, had gone out in +adoration towards this stranger. Chris found it almost piteous to watch +her--her shy looks, the shiver that went over her, when the brilliant +figure rustled into the room, or the brisk sentences were delivered from +those smiling lips. He would see too how their hands met as they sat +together; how Margaret would sit distracted and hungering for attention, +eyeing the ceiling, the carpet, her embroidery; and how her eyes would +leap to meet a glance, and her face flush up, as Beatrice throw her a +soft word or look. + +And it was the right love, too, to the monk's eyes; not a rival flame, +but fuel for divine ardour. Margaret spent longer, not shorter, time at +her prayers; was more, not less, devout at mass and communion; and her +whole sore soul became sensitive and alive again. The winter had passed +for her; the time of the singing-birds was come. + + * * * * * + +She was fascinated by the other's gallant brilliance. Religion for the +nun had up to the present appeared a delicate thing that grew in the +shadow or in the warm shelter of the cloister; now it blossomed out in +Beatrice as a hardy bright plant that tossed its leaves in the wind and +exulted in sun and cold. Yet it had its evening tendernesses too, its +subtle fragrance when the breeze fell, its sweet colours and +outlines--Beatrice too could pray; and Margaret's spiritual instinct, as +she knelt by her at the altar-rail or glanced at the other's face as she +came down fresh with absolution from the chair in the sanctuary where +the chaplain sat, detected a glow of faith at least as warm as her own. + +She was astonished too at her friend's gaiety; for she had expected, so +far as her knowledge of human souls led to expect anything, a quiet +convalescent spirit, recovering but slowly from the tragedy through +which Margaret knew she had passed. It seemed to her at first as if +Beatrice must be almost heartless, so little did she flinch when Lady +Torridon darted Ralph's name at her, or Master More's, or flicked her +suddenly where the wound ought to be; and it was not until the guest had +been a month in the house that the nun understood. + +They were together one evening in Margaret's own white little room above +the oak parlour. Beatrice was sitting before the fire with her arms +clasped behind her head, waiting till the other had finished her office, +and looking round pleased in her heart, at the walls that told their +tale so plainly. It was almost exactly like a cell. A low oak bed, +red-blanketted, stood under the sloping roof, a prie-dieu beside it, and +a cheap little French image of St. Scholastica over it. There was a +table, with a sheet of white paper, a little ink-horn and two quills +primly side by side upon it; and at the back stood a couple of small +bound volumes in which the nun was accumulating little by little private +devotions that appealed to her. A pair of beads hung on a nail by the +window over which was drawn an old red curtain; two brass candlesticks +with a cross between them stood over the hearth, giving it a faint +resemblance to an altar. The boards were bare except for a strip of +matting by the bed; and the whole room, walls, floor, ceiling and +furniture were speckless and precise. + +Margaret made the sign of the cross, closed her book, and smiled at +Beatrice. + +"You dear child!" she answered. + +Margaret's face shone with pleasure; and she put out her hand softly to +the other's knee, and laid it there. + +"Talk to me," said the nun. + +"Well?" said Beatrice. + +"Tell me about your life in London. You never have yet, you know." + +An odd look passed over the other's face, and she dropped her eyes and +laid her hands together in her lap. + +"Oh, Meg," she said, "I should love to tell you if I could. What would +you like to hear?" + +The nun looked at her wondering. + +"Why--everything," she said. + +"Shall I tell you of Chelsea and Master More?" + +Margaret nodded, still looking at her; and Beatrice began. + +It was an extraordinary experience for the nun to sit there and hear +that wonderful tale poured out. Beatrice for the first time threw open +her defences--those protections of the sensitive inner life that she had +raised by sheer will--and showed her heart. She told her first of her +life in the country before she had known anything of the world; of her +father's friendship with More when she was still a child, and of his +death when she was about sixteen. She had had money of her own, and had +come up to live with Mrs. More's sisters; and so had gradually slipped +into intimacy at Chelsea. Then she described the life there--the ordered +beauty of it all--and the marvellous soul that was its centre and sun. +She told her of More's humour, his unfailing gaiety, his sweet cynicism +that shot through his talk, his tender affections, and above all--for +she knew this would most interest the nun--his deep and resolute +devotion to God. She described how he had at one time lived at the +Charterhouse, and had seemed to regret, before the end of his life, that +he had not become a Carthusian; she told her of the precious parcel that +had been sent from the Tower to Chelsea the day before his death, and +how she had helped Margaret Roper to unfasten it and disclose the +hair-shirt that he had worn secretly for years, and which now he had +sent back for fear that it should be seen by unfriendly eyes or praised +by flattering tongues. + +Her face grew inexpressibly soft and loving as she talked; more than +once her black eyes filled with tears, and her voice faltered; and the +nun sat almost terrified at the emotion she had called up. It was hardly +possible that this tender feminine creature who talked so softly of +divine and human things and of the strange ardent lawyer in whom both +were so manifest, could be the same stately lady of downstairs who +fenced so gallantly, who never winced at a wound and trod so bravely +over sharp perilous ground. + +"They killed him," said Beatrice. "King Henry killed him; for that he +could not bear an honest, kindly, holy soul so near his own. And we are +left to weep for him, of whom--of whom the world was not worthy." + +Margaret felt her hand caught and caressed; and the two sat in silence a +moment. + +"But--but--" began the nun softly, bewildered by this revelation. + +"Yes, my dear; you did not know--how should you?--what a wound I carry +here--what a wound we all carry who knew him." + +Again there was a short silence. Margaret was searching for some word of +comfort. + +"But you did what you could for him, did you not? And--and even Ralph, I +think I heard--" + +Beatrice turned and looked at her steadily. Margaret read in her face +something she could not understand. + +"Yes--Ralph?" said Beatrice questioningly. + +"You told father so, did you not? He did what he could for Master More?" + +Beatrice laid her other hand too over Margaret's. + +"My dear; I do not know. I cannot speak of that." + +"But you said--" + +"Margaret, my pet; you would not hurt me, would you? I do not think I +can bear to speak of that." + +The nun gripped the other's two hands passionately, and laid her cheek +against them. + +"Beatrice, I did not know--I forgot." + +Beatrice stooped and kissed her gently. + + * * * * * + +The nun loved her tenfold more after that. It had been before a kind of +passionate admiration, such as a subject might feel for a splendid +queen; but the queen had taken this timid soul in through the +palace-gates now, into a little inner chamber intimate and apart, and +had sat with her there and shown her everything, her broken toys, her +failures; and more than all her own broken heart. And as, after that +evening, Margaret watched Beatrice again in public, heard her retorts +and marked her bearing, she knew that she knew something that the others +did not; she had the joy of sharing a secret of pain. But there was one +wound that Beatrice did not show her; that secret was reserved for one +who had more claim to it, and could understand. The nun could not have +interpreted it rightly. + + * * * * * + +Mary and Nicholas went back to Great Keynes at the end of January; and +Beatrice was out on the terrace with the others to see them go. Jim, the +little seven-year-old boy, had fallen in love with her, ever since he +had found that she treated him like a man, with deference and courtesy, +and did not talk about him in his presence and over his head. He was +walking with her now, a little apart, as the horses came round, and +explaining to her how it was that he only rode a pony at present, and +not a horse. + +"My legs would not reach, Mistress Atherton," he said, protruding a +small leather boot. "It is not because I am afraid, or father either. I +rode Jess, the other day, but not astride." + +"I quite understand," said Beatrice respectfully, without the shadow of +laughter in her face. + +"You see--" began the boy. + +Then his mother came up. + +"Run, Jim, and hold my horse. Mistress Beatrice, may I have a word with +you?" + +The two turned and walked down to the end of the terrace again. + +"It is this," said Mary, looking at the other from under her plumed hat, +with her skirt gathered up with her whip in her gloved hand. "I wished +to tell you about my mother. I have not dared till now. I have never +seen her so stirred in my life, as she is now. I--I think she will do +anything you wish in time. It is useless to feign that we do not +understand one another--anything you wish--come back to her Faith +perhaps; treat my father better. She--she loves you, I think; and yet +dare not--" + +"On Ralph's account," put in Beatrice serenely. + +"Yes; how did you know? It is on Ralph's account. She cannot forgive +that. Can you say anything to her, do you think? Anything to explain? +You understand--" + +"I understand." + +"I do not know how I dare say all this," went on Mary blushing +furiously, "but I must thank you too for what you have done for my +sister. It is wonderful. I could have done nothing." + +"My dear," said Beatrice. "I love your sister. There is no need for +thanks." + +A loud voice hailed them. + +"Sweetheart," shouted Sir Nicholas, standing with his legs apart at the +mounting steps. "The horses are fretted to death." + +"You will remember," said Mary hurriedly, as they turned. "And--God +bless you, Beatrice!" + +Lady Torridon was indeed very quiet now. It was strange for the others +to see the difference. It seemed as if she had been conquered by the one +weapon that she could wield, which was brutality. As Mr. Carleton had +said, she had never been faced before; she had been accustomed to regard +devoutness as incompatible with strong character; she had never been +resisted. Both her husband and children had thought to conquer by +yielding; it was easier to do so, and appeared more Christian; and she +herself, like Ralph, was only provoked further by passivity. And now she +had met one of the old school, who was as ready in the use of worldly +weapons as herself; she had been ignored and pricked alternately, and +with astonishing grace too, by one who was certainly of that tone of +mind that she had gradually learnt to despise and hate. + +Chris saw this before his father; but he saw too that the conquest was +not yet complete. His mother had been cowed with respect, as a dog that +is broken in; she had not yet been melted with love. He had spoken to +Mary the day before the Maxwells' departure, and tried to put this into +words; and Mary had seen where the opening for love lay, through which +the work could be done; and the result had been the interview with +Beatrice, and the mention of Ralph's name. But Mary had not a notion how +Beatrice could act; she only saw that Ralph was the one chink in her +mother's armour, and she left it to this girl who had been so adroit up +to the present, to find how to pierce it. + +Sir James had given up trying to understand the situation. He had for so +long regarded his wife as an irreconcilable that he hoped for nothing +better than to be able to keep her pacified; anything in the nature of a +conversion seemed an idle dream. But he had noticed the change in her +manner, and wondered what it meant; he hoped that the pendulum had not +swung too far, and that it was not she who was being bullied now by +this imperious girl from town. + +He said a word to Mr. Carleton one day about it, as they walked in the +garden. + +"Father," he said, "I am puzzled. What has come to my wife? Have you not +noticed how she has not spoken for three days. Do you think she dislikes +Mistress Atherton. If I thought that--" + +"No, sir," said the priest. "I do not think it is that. I think it is +the other way about. She did dislike her--but not now." + +"You do not think, Mistress Atherton is--is a little--discourteous and +sharp sometimes. I have wondered whether that was so. Chris thinks not, +however." + +"Neither do I, sir. I think--I think it is all very well as it is. I +hope Mistress Atherton is to stay yet a while." + +"She speaks of going in a week or two," said the old man. "She has been +here six weeks now." + +"I hope not," said the priest, "since you have asked my opinion, sir." + +Sir James sighed, looked at the other, and then left him, to search for +his wife and see if she wanted him. He was feeling a little sorry for +her. + + * * * * * + +A week later the truth began to come out, and Beatrice had the +opportunity for which she was waiting. + +They were all gathered before the hall-fire expecting supper; the +painted windows had died with the daylight, and the deep tones of the +woodwork in gallery and floor and walls had crept out from the gloom +into the dancing flare of the fire and the steady glow of the sconces. +The weather had broken a day or two before; all the afternoon sheets of +rain had swept across the fields and gardens, and heavy cheerless +clouds marched over the sky. The wind was shrilling now against the +north side of the hall, and one window dripped a little inside on to the +matting below it. The supper-table shone with silver and crockery, and +the napkins by each place; and the door from the kitchen was set wide +for the passage of the servants, one of whom waited discreetly in the +opening for the coming of the lady of the house. They were all there but +she; and the minutes went by and she did not come. + +Sir James turned enquiringly as the door from the court opened, but it +was only a wet shivering dog who had nosed it open, and now crept +deprecatingly towards the blaze. + +"You poor beast," said Beatrice, drawing her skirts aside. "Take my +place," and she stepped away to allow him to come. He looked gratefully +up, wagged his rat-tail, and lay down comfortably at the edge of the +tiles. + +"My wife is very late," said Sir James. "Chris--" + +He stopped as footsteps sounded in the flagged passage leading from the +living rooms; and the next moment the door was flung open, and a woman +ran forward with outstretched hands. + +"O! mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" she cried. "My lady is ill. Come, sir, come!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE ELDER SON + + +Ralph had prospered exceedingly since his return from the Sussex +Visitation. He had been sent on mission after mission by Cromwell, who +had learnt at last how wholly he could be trusted; and with each success +his reputation increased. It seemed to Cromwell that his man was more +whole-hearted than he had been at first; and when he was told abruptly +by Ralph that his relations with Mistress Atherton had come to an end, +the politician was not slow to connect cause and effect. He had always +regretted the friendship; it seemed to him that his servant's character +was sure to be weakened by his alliance with a friend of Master More; +and though he had said nothing--for Ralph's manner did not encourage +questions--he had secretly congratulated both himself and his agent for +so happy a termination to an unfortunate incident. + +For the meantime Ralph's fortunes rose with his master's; Lord Cromwell +now reigned in England next after the King in both Church and State. He +held a number of offices, each of which would have been sufficient for +an ordinary man, but all of which did not overtax his amazing energy. He +stood absolutely alone, with all the power in his hands; President of +the Star Chamber, Foreign Minister, Home-Minister, and the Vicar-General +of the Church; feared by Churchmen, distrusted by statesmen and nobles; +and hated by all except his own few personal friends--an unique figure +that had grown to gigantic stature through sheer effort and adroitness. + +And beneath his formidable shadow Ralph was waxing great. He had failed +to get Lewes for himself, for Cromwell designed it for Gregory his son; +but he was offered his choice among several other great houses. For the +present he hesitated to choose; uncertain of his future. If his father +died there would be Overfield waiting for him, so he did not wish to tie +himself to one of the far-away Yorkshire houses; if his father lived, he +did not wish to be too near him. There was no hurry, said Cromwell; +there would be houses and to spare for the King's faithful servants; and +meantime it would be better for Mr. Torridon to remain in Westminster, +and lay his foundations of prosperity deeper and wider yet before +building. The title too that Cromwell dangled before him sometimes--that +too could wait until he had chosen his place of abode. + +Ralph felt that he was being magnificently treated by his master; and +his gratitude and admiration grew side by side with his rising fortune. +There was no niggardliness, now that Cromwell had learnt to trust in +him; he could draw as much money as he wished for the payment of his +under-agents, or for any other purpose; and no questions were asked. + +The little house at Westminster grew rich in treasures; his bed-coverlet +was the very cope he had taken from Rusper; his table was heavy with +chalices beaten into secular shape; his fire-screen was a Spanish +chasuble taken in the North. His servants were no longer three or four +sleeping in the house; there was a brigade of them, some that attended +for orders morning by morning, some that skirmished for him in the +country and returned rich in documents and hearsay; and a dozen waited +on his personal wants. + +He dealt too with great folks. Half a dozen abbots had been to see him +in the last year or two, stately prelates that treated him as an equal +and pleaded for his intercession; the great nobles, enemies of his +master and himself, eyed him with respectful suspicion as he walked with +Cromwell in Westminster Hall. The King had pulled his ears and praised +him; Ralph had stayed at Greenwich a week at a time when the execution +of the Benedictine abbots was under discussion; he had ridden down +Cheapside with Henry on his right and Cromwell beyond, between the +shouting crowds and beneath the wild tossing of gold-cloth and tapestry +and the windy pealing of a hundred brazen bells. He had gone up with +Norfolk to Doncaster, a mouth through which the King might promise and +threaten, and had strode up the steps beside the Duke to make an end of +the insurgent-leaders of the northern rebellion. + +He did not lack a goad, beside that of his own ambition, to drive him +through this desperate stir; he found a sufficient one in his memory. He +did not think much of his own family, except with sharp contempt. He did +not even trouble to make any special report about Chris or Margaret; but +it was impossible to remember Beatrice with contempt. When she had left +him kneeling at his table, she had left something besides--the sting of +her words, and the bitter coldness of her eyes. + +As he looked back he did not know whether he loathed her or loved her; +he only knew that she affected him profoundly. Again and again as he +dealt brutally with some timid culprit, or stood with his hand on his +hip to direct the destruction of a shrine, the memory whipped him on his +raw soul. He would show her whether he were a man or no; whether he +depended on her or no; whether her woman's tongue could turn him or no. + + * * * * * + +He was exercised now with very different matters. Religious affairs for +the present had fallen into a secondary place, and home and foreign +politics absorbed most of Cromwell's energies and time. Forces were +gathering once more against England, and the Catholic powers were coming +to an understanding with one another against the country that had thrown +off allegiance to the Pope and the Empire. There was an opportunity, +however, for Henry's propensity to marriage once more to play a part in +politics; he had been three years without a wife; and Cromwell had +hastened for the third time to avail himself of the King's passions as +an instrument in politics. He had understood that a union between +England and the Lutheran princes would cause a formidable obstacle to +Catholic machinations; and with this in view had excited Henry by a +description and a picture of the Lady Anne, daughter of the Duke of +Cleves and sister-in-law of the Elector of Saxony. He had been perfectly +successful in the first stages; the stout duchess had landed at Deal at +the end of December; and the marriage had been solemnised a few days +later. But unpleasant rumour had been busy ever since; it was whispered +far and wide that the King loathed his wife, and complained that he had +been deceived as to her charms; and Ralph, who was more behind the +scenes than most men, knew that the rumour was only too true. He had +been present at an abominable incident the day after the marriage had +taken place, when the King had stormed and raved about the council-room, +crying out that he had been deceived, and adding many gross details for +the benefit of his friends. + +Cromwell had been strangely moody ever since. Ralph had watched his +heavy face day after day staring vacantly across the room, and his hand +that held the pen dig and prick at the paper beneath it. + +Even that was not all. The Anglo-German alliance had provoked opposition +on the continent instead of quelling it; and Ralph saw more than one +threatening piece of news from abroad that hinted at a probable invasion +of England should Cromwell's schemes take effect. These too, however, +had proved deceptive, and the Lutheran princes whom he had desired to +conciliate were even already beginning to draw back from the +consequences of their action. + +Ralph was in Cromwell's room one day towards the end of January, when a +courier arrived with despatches from an agent who had been following the +Spanish Emperor's pacific progress through France, undertaken as a kind +of demonstration against England. + +Cromwell tore open the papers, and glanced at them, running his quick +attentive eye over this page and that; and Ralph saw his face grow stern +and white. He tossed the papers on to the table, and nodded to the +courier to leave the room. + +Then he took up a pen, examined it; dashed it point down against the +table; gnawed his nails a moment, and then caught Ralph's eye. + +"We are failing," he said abruptly. "Mr. Torridon, if you are a rat you +had better run." + +"I shall not run, sir," said Ralph. + +"God's Body!" said his master, "we shall all run together, I think;--but +not yet." + +Then he took up the papers again, and began to read. + +It was a few days later that Ralph received the news of his mother's +illness. + +She had written to him occasionally, telling him of his father's +tiresome ways, his brother's arrogance, his sister's feeble piety, and +finally she had told him of Beatrice's arrival. + +"I consented very gladly," she had written, "for I thought to teach my +lady a lesson or two; but I find her very pert and obstinate. I do not +understand, my dear son, how you could have wished to make her your +wife; and yet I will grant that she has a taking way with her; she seems +to fear nothing but her own superstitions and folly, but I am very happy +to think that all is over between you. She never loved you, my Ralph; +for she cares nothing when I speak your name, as I have done two or +three times; nor yet Master More either. I think she has no heart." + +Ralph had wondered a little as he read this, at his mother's curious +interest in the girl; and he wondered too at the report of Beatrice's +callousness. It was her damned pride, he assured himself. + +Then, one evening as he arrived home from Hackney where he had slept the +previous night; he found a messenger waiting for him. The letter had not +been sent on to him, as he had not left word where he was going. + +It contained a single line from his father. + +"Your mother is ill. Come at once. She wishes for you." + + * * * * * + +It was in the stormy blackness of a February midnight that he rode up +through the lighted gatehouse to his home. Above the terrace as he came +up the road the tall hall-window glimmered faintly like a gigantic +luminous door hung in space; and the lower window of his father's room +shone and faded as the fire leapt within. + +A figure rose up suddenly from before the hall-fire as he came in, +bringing with him a fierce gust of wet wind through the opened door; and +when he had slipped off his dripping cloak into his servant's hands, he +saw that his father was there two yards away, very stern and white, with +outstretched hands. + +"My son," said the old man, "you are too late. She died two hours ago." + +It was a fierce shock, and for a moment he stood dazed, blinking at the +light, holding his father's warm slender hands in his own, and trying to +assimilate the news. He had been driven inwards, and his obstinacy +weakened, during that long ride from town through the stormy sunset into +the black, howling night; memories had reasserted themselves on the +strength of his anxiety; and the past year or two slipped from him, and +left him again the eldest son of the house and of his two parents. + +Then as he looked into the pale bearded face before him, and the eyes +which had looked into his own a few months ago with such passionate +anger, he remembered all that was between them, dropped the hands and +went forward to the fire. + +His father followed him and stood by him there as he spread his fingers +to the blaze, and told him the details, in short detached sentences. + +She had been seized with pain and vomiting on the previous night at +supper time; the doctor had been sent for, and had declared the illness +to be an internal inflammation. She had grown steadily worse on the +following day, with periods of unconsciousness; she had asked for Ralph +an hour after she had been taken ill; the pain had seemed to become +fiercer as the hours went on; she had died at ten o'clock that night. + +Ralph stood there and listened, his head pressed against the high +mantelpiece, and his fingers stretching and closing mechanically to +supple the stiffened joints. + +"Mistress Atherton was with her all the while," said his father; "she +asked for her." + +Ralph shot a glance sideways, and down again. + +"And--" he began. + +"Yes; she was shriven and anointed, thank God; she could not receive +Viaticum." + +Ralph did not know whether he was glad or sorry at that news. It was a +proper proceeding at any rate; as proper as the candles and the shroud +and the funeral rites. As regards grief, he did not feel it yet; but he +was aware of a profound sensation in his soul, as of a bruise. + +There was silence for a moment or two; then the wind bellowed suddenly +in the chimney, the tall window gave a crack of sound, and the smoke +eddied out into the room. Ralph turned round. + +"They are with her still," said Sir James; "we can go up presently." + +The other shook his head abruptly. + +"No," he said, "I will wait until to-morrow. Which is my room?" + +"Your old room," said his father. "I have had a truckle-bed set there +for your man. Will you find your way? I must stay here for Mistress +Atherton." + +Ralph nodded sharply, and went out, down the hill. + + * * * * * + +It was half an hour more before Beatrice appeared; and then Sir James +looked up from his chair at the sound of a footstep and saw her coming +up the matted floor. Her face was steady and resolute, but there were +dark patches under her eyes, for she had not slept for two nights. + +Sir James stood up, and held out his hands. + +"Ralph has come," he said. "He is gone to his room. Where are the +others?" + +"The priests are at prayers and Meg too," she said, "It is all ready, +sir. You may go up when you please." + +"I must say a word first," said Sir James. "Sit down, Mistress +Atherton." + +He drew forward his chair for her; and himself stood up on the hearth, +leaning his head on his hand and looking down into the fire. + +"It is this," he said: "May our Lord reward you for what you have done +for us." + +Beatrice was silent. + +"You know she asked my pardon," he said, "when we were left alone +together. You do not know what that means. And she gave me her +forgiveness for all my folly--" + +Beatrice drew a sharp breath in spite of herself. + +"We have both sinned," he went on; "we did not understand one another; +and I feared we should part so. That we have not, we have to thank +you--" + +His old voice broke suddenly; and Beatrice heard him draw a long sobbing +breath. She knew she ought to speak, but her brain was bewildered with +the want of sleep and the long struggle; she could not think of a word +to say; she felt herself on the verge of hysteria. + +"You have done it all," he said again presently. "She took all that Mr. +Carleton said patiently enough, he told me. It is all your work. +Mistress Atherton--" + +She looked up questioningly with her bright tired eyes. + +"Mistress Atherton; may I know what you said to her?" + +Beatrice made a great effort and recovered her self-control. + +"I answered her questions," she said. + +"Questions? Did she ask you of the Faith? Did she speak of me? Am I +asking too much?" + +Beatrice shook her head. For a moment again she could not speak. + +"I am asking what I should not," said the old man. + +"No, no," cried the girl, "you have a right to know. Wait, I will tell +you--" + +Again she broke off, and felt her own breath begin to sob in her throat. +She buried her face in her hands a moment. + +"God forgive me," said the other. "I--" + +"It was about your son Ralph," said Beatrice bravely, though her lips +shook. + +"She--she asked whether I had ever loved him at all--and--" + +"Mistress Beatrice, Mistress Beatrice, I entreat you not to say more." + +"And I told her--yes; and, yes--still." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MUMMERS + + +It was a strange meeting for Beatrice and Ralph the next morning. She +saw him first from the gallery in chapel at mass, kneeling by his +father, motionless and upright, and watched him go down the aisle when +it was over. She waited a few minutes longer, quieting herself, +marshalling her forces, running her attention over each movement or word +that might prove unruly in his presence; and then she got up from her +knees and went down. + +It had been an intolerable pain to tell the dying woman that she loved +her son; it tore open the wound again, for she had never yet spoken that +secret aloud to any living soul, not even to her own. When the question +came, as she knew it would, she had not hesitated an instant as to the +answer, and yet the answer had materialised what had been impalpable +before. + +As she had looked down from the gallery this morning she knew that she +hated, in theory, every detail of his outlook on life; he was brutal, +insincere; he had lied to her; he was living on the fruits of sacrilege; +he had outraged every human tie he possessed; and yet she loved every +hair of his dark head, every movement of his strong hands. It was that +that had broken down the mother's reserve; she had been beaten by the +girl's insolence, as a dog is beaten into respect; she had only one +thing that she had not been able to forgive, and that was that this +girl had tossed aside her son's love; then the question had been asked +and answered; and the work had been done. The dying woman had +surrendered wholly to the superior personality; and had obeyed like a +child. + + * * * * * + +She had a sense of terrible guilt as she went downstairs into the +passage that opened on the court; the fact that she had put into words +what had lain in her heart, made her fancy that the secret was written +on her face. Then again she drove the imagination down by sheer will; +she knew that she had won back her self-control, and could trust her own +discretion. + +Their greeting was that of two acquaintances. There was not the tremor +of an eyelid of either, or a note in either voice, that betrayed that +their relations had once been different. Ralph thanked her courteously +for her attention to his mother; and she made a proper reply. Then they +all sat down to breakfast. + +Then Margaret had to be attended to, for she was half-wild with remorse; +she declared to Beatrice when they went upstairs together that she had +been a wicked daughter, that she had resented her mother's words again +and again, had behaved insolently, and so forth. Beatrice took her in +her arms. + +"My dear," she said, "indeed you must leave all that now. Come and see +her; she is at peace, and you must be." + +The bedroom where Lady Torridon had died was arranged as a _chapelle +ardente;_ the great bed had been moved out into the centre of the room. +Six tall candlesticks with escutcheons and yellow tapers formed a +slender mystical wall of fire and light about it; the windows were +draped; a couple of kneeling desks were set at the foot of the bed. +Chris was kneeling at one beside his father as they went in, and Mary +Maxwell, who had arrived a few hours before death had taken place, was +by herself in a corner. + +Beatrice drew Margaret to the second desk, pushed the book to her, and +knelt by her. There lay the body of the strange, fierce, lonely woman, +with her beautiful hands crossed, pale as wax, with a crucifix between +them; and those great black eyebrows beyond, below which lay the double +reverse curve of the lashes. It seemed as if she was watching them both, +as her manner had been in life, with a tranquil cynicism. + +And was she at peace, thought Beatrice, as she had told her daughter +just now? Was it possible to believe that that stormy, vicious spirit +had been quieted so suddenly? And yet that would be no greater miracle +than that which death had wrought to the body. If the one was so still, +why not the other? At least she had asked pardon of her husband for +those years of alienation; she had demanded the sacraments of the +Church! + +Beatrice bowed her head, and prayed for the departed soul. + + * * * * * + +She was disturbed by the soft opening of a door, and lifted her eyes to +see Ralph stand a moment by the head of the bed, before he sank on his +knees. She could watch every detail of his face in the candlelight; his +thin tight lips, his heavy eyebrows so like his mother's, his curved +nostrils, the clean sharp line of his jaw. + +She found herself analysing his processes of thought. His mother had +been the one member of his family with whom he had had sympathy; they +understood one another, these two bitter souls, as no one else did, +except perhaps Beatrice herself. How aloof they had stood from all +ordinary affections; how keen must have been their dual loneliness! And +what did this snapped thread mean to him now? To what, in his opinion, +did the broken end lead that had passed out from the visible world to +the invisible? Did he think that all was over, and that the one soul +that had understood his own had passed like a candle flame into the +dark? And she too--was she crying for her son, a thin soundless sobbing +in the world beyond sight? Above all, did he understand how alone he was +now--how utterly, eternally alone, unless he turned his course? + +A great well of pity broke up and surged in her heart, flooding her eyes +with tears, as she looked at the living son and the dead mother; and she +dropped her head on her hands again, and prayed for his soul as well as +for hers. + + * * * * * + +It was a very strange atmosphere in the house during the day or two that +passed before the funeral. The household met at meals and in the parlour +and chapel, but seldom at other times. Ralph was almost invisible; and +silent when he appeared. There were no explanations on either side; he +behaved with a kind of distant courtesy to the others, answered their +questions, volunteered a word or two sometimes; made himself useful in +small ways as regarded giving orders to the servants, inspecting the +funeral standard and scutcheons, and making one or two arrangements +which fell to him naturally; and went out by himself on horseback or on +foot during the afternoon. His contempt seemed to have fallen from him; +he was as courteous to Chris as to the others; but no word was spoken on +either side as regarded either the past and the great gulf that +separated him from the others, or the future relations between him and +his home. + +The funeral took place three days after death, on the Saturday morning; +a requiem was sung in the presence of the body in the parish church; and +Beatrice sat with the mourners in the Torridon chapel behind the black +hearse set with lights, before the open vault in the centre of the +pavement. Ralph sat two places beyond her, with Sir James between; and +she was again vividly conscious of his presence, of his movements as he +knelt and sat; and again she wondered what all the solemn ceremonies +meant to him, the yellow candles, the black vestments, the mysterious +hallowing of the body with incense and water--counteracting, as it were, +with fragrance and brightness, the corruption and darkness of the grave. + +She walked back with Margaret, who clung to her now, almost desperately, +finding in her sane serenity an antidote to her own remorse; and as she +walked through the garden and across the moat, with Nicholas and Mary +coming behind, she watched the three men going in front, Sir James in +the middle, the monk on his left, and the slow-stepping Ralph on his +right, and marvelled at the grim acting. + +There they went, the father and his two sons, side by side in courteous +silence--she noticed Ralph step forward to lift the latch of the +garden-gate for the others to pass through--and between them lay an +impassable gulf; she found herself wondering whether the other gulf that +they had looked into half an hour before were so deep or wide. + +She was out again with Sir James alone in the evening before supper, and +learnt from him then that Ralph was to stay till Monday. + +"He has not spoken to me of returning again," said the old man, "Of +course it is impossible. Do you not think so, Mistress Atherton." + +"It is impossible," she said. "What good would be served?" + +"What good?" repeated the other. + +The evening was falling swiftly, layer on layer of twilight, as they +turned to come back to the house. The steeple of the church rose up on +their left, slender and ghostly against the yellow sky, out of the black +yews and cypresses that lay banked below it. They stopped and looked at +it a moment, as it aspired to heaven from the bones that lay about its +base, like an eternal resurrection wrought in stone. There all about it +were the mortal and the dead; the stones and iron slabs leaned, as they +knew, in hundreds about the grass; and round them again stood the roofs, +beginning now to kindle under the eaves, where the living slept and ate. +There was a rumbling of heavy carts somewhere beyond the village, a +crack or two of a whip, the barking of a dog. + +Then they turned again and went up to the house. + + * * * * * + +It was the chaplain who was late this evening for supper. The others +waited a few minutes by the fire, but there was no sign of him. A +servant was sent up to his room and came back to report that he had +changed his cassock and gone out; a boy had come from the parish-priest, +said the man, ten minutes before, and Mr. Carleton had probably been +sent for. + +They waited yet five minutes, but the priest did not appear, and they +sat down. Supper was nearly over before before he came. He came in by +the side-door from the court, splashed with mud, and looking pale and +concerned. He went straight up to Sir James. + +"May I speak with you, sir?" he said. + +The old man got up at once, and went down the hall with him. + +The rest waited, expecting them to return, but there was no sign of +them; and Ralph at last rose and led the way to the oak-parlour. As they +passed the door of Sir James's room they heard the sound of voices +within. + +Conversation was a very difficult matter that evening. Ralph had behaved +with considerable grace and tact, but Nicholas had not responded. Ever +since his arrival on the day before the funeral he had eyed Ralph like a +strange dog intruded into a house; Mary had hovered round her husband, +watchful and anxious, stepping hastily into gaps in the conversation, +sliding in a sentence or two as Nicholas licked his lips in preparation +for a snarl; once even putting her hand swiftly on his and drowning a +growl with a word of her own. Ralph had been wonderfully +self-controlled; only once had Beatrice seen him show his teeth for a +moment as his brother-in-law had scowled more plainly than usual. + +The atmosphere was charged to-night, now that the master of the house +was away; and as Ralph took his seat in his father's chair, Beatrice had +caught her breath for a moment as she saw the look on Nicholas's face. +It seemed as if the funeral had lifted a stone that had hitherto held +the two angry spirits down; Nicholas, after all, was but a son-in-law, +and Ralph, to his view at least, a bad son. She feared that both might +think that a quarrel did not outrage decency; but she feared for +Nicholas more than for Ralph. + +Ralph appeared not to notice the other's scowl, and leaned easily back, +his head against the carved heraldry, and rapped his fingers softly and +rhythmically on the bosses of the arms. + +Then she heard Nicholas draw a slow venomous breath; and the talk died +on Mary's lips. Beatrice stood up abruptly, in desperation; she did not +know what to say; but the movement checked Nicholas, and he glanced at +her a moment. Then Mary recovered herself, put her hand sharply on her +husband's, and slid out an indifferent sentence. Beatrice saw Ralph's +eyes move swiftly and sideways and down again, and a tiny wrinkle of a +smile show itself at the corners of his mouth. But that danger was +passed; and a minute later they heard the door of Sir James's room +opposite open, and the footsteps of the two men come out. + +Ralph stood up at once as his father came in, followed by the priest, +and stepped back to the window-seat; there was the faintest hint in the +slight motion of his hands to the effect that he had held his post as +the eldest son until the rightful owner came. But the consciousness of +it in Beatrice's mind was swept away as she looked at the old man, +standing with a white stern face and his hands clenched at his sides. +She could see that something impended, and stood up quickly. + +"Mr. Carleton has brought shocking news," he said abruptly; and his eyes +wandered to his eldest son standing in the shadow of the curtain. "A +company of mummers has arrived in the village--they--they are to give +their piece to-morrow." + +There was a dead silence for a moment, for all knew what this meant. + +Nicholas sprang to his feet. + +"By God, they shall not!" he said. + +Sir James lifted his hand sharply. + +"We cannot hinder it," he said. "The priests have done what they can. +The fellow tells them--" he paused, and again his eyes wandered to +Ralph--"the fellow tells them he is under the protection of my Lord +Cromwell." + +There was a swift rustle in the room. Nicholas faced sharply round to +the window-seat, his hands clenched and his face quivering. Ralph did +not move. + +"Tell them, father," said Sir James. + +The chaplain gave his account. He had been sent for by the parish priest +just before supper, and had gone with him to the barn that had been +hired for the performance. The carts had arrived that evening from +Maidstone; and were being unpacked. He had seen the properties; they +were of the usual kind--all the paraphernalia for the parody of the Mass +that was usually given by such actors. He had seen the vestments, the +friar's habit, the red-nosed mask, the woman's costume and wig--all the +regular articles. The manager had tried to protest against the priests' +entrance; had denied at first that any insult was intended to the +Catholic Religion; and had finally taken refuge in defiance; he had +flung out the properties before their eyes; had declared that no one +could hinder him from doing as he pleased, since the Archbishop had not +protested; and Lord Cromwell had given him his express sanction. + +"We did all we were able," said the priest. "Master Rector said he would +put all the parishioners who came, under the ban of the Church; the +fellow snapped his fingers in his face. I told them of Sir James's +wishes; the death of my Lady--it was of no avail. We can do nothing." + +The priest's sallow face was flushed with fury as he spoke; and his lips +trembled piteously with horror and pain. It was the first time that the +mummers had been near Overfield; they had heard tales of them from other +parts of the country, but had hoped that their own village would escape +the corruption. And now it had come. + +He stood shaking, as he ended his account. + +"Mr. Carleton says it would be of no avail for me to go down myself. I +wished to. We can do nothing." + +Again he glanced at Ralph, who had sat down silently in the shadow while +the priest talked. + +Nicholas could be restrained no longer. He shook off his wife's hand and +took a step across the room. + +"And you--you sit there, you devil!" he shouted. + +Sir James was with him in a moment, so swiftly that Beatrice did not see +him move. Margaret was clinging to her now, whispering and sobbing. + +"Nick," snapped out the old man, "hold your tongue, sir. Sit down." + +"God's Blood!" bellowed the squire. "You bid me sit down." + +Sir James gripped him so fiercely that he stepped back. + +"I bid you sit down," he said. "Ralph, will you help us?" + +Ralph stood up instantly. He had not stirred a muscle as Nick shouted at +him. + +"I waited for that, sir," he said. "What is it you would have me do?" + +Beatrice saw that his face was quite quiet as he spoke; his eyelids +drooped a little; and his mouth was tight and firm. He seemed not to be +aware of Nicholas's presence. + +"To hinder the play-acting," said his father. + +There fell a dead silence again. + +"I will do it, sir," said his son. "It--it is but decent." + +And in the moment of profound astonishment that fell, he came straight +across the room, passed by them all without turning his head, and went +out. + +Beatrice felt a fierce emotion grip her throat as she looked after him, +and saw the door close. Then Margaret seized her again, and she turned +to quiet her. + +She was aware that Sir James had gone out after his son, after a moment +of silence, and she heard his footsteps pass along the flags outside. + +"Oh! God bless him!" sobbed Margaret. + +Sir James came back immediately, shook his head, went across the room, +and sat down in the seat that Ralph had left. A dreadful stillness fell. +Margaret was quiet now. Mary was sitting with her husband on the other +side of the hearth. Chris rose presently and sat down by his father, but +no one spoke a word. + +Then Nicholas got up uneasily, came across the room, and stood with his +back to the hearth warming himself. Beatrice saw him glance now and +again to the shadowed window-seat where the two men sat; he hummed a +note or two to himself softly; then turned round and stared at the fire +with outstretched hands. + +The bell rang for prayers, and still without a word being spoken they +all got up and went out. + +In the same silence they came back. Ralph's servant was standing by the +door as they entered. + +"If you please, sir, Mr. Ralph is come in. He bade me tell you that all +is arranged." + +The old man looked at him, swallowed once in his throat; and at last +spoke. + +"It is arranged, you say? It will not take place?" + +"It will not take place, sir." + +"Where is Mr. Ralph?" + +"He is gone to his room, sir. He bade me tell you he would be leaving +early for London." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A CATASTROPHE + + +Ralph rode away early next morning, yet not so early as to escape an +interview with his father. They met in the hall, Sir James in his loose +morning gown and Ralph booted and spurred with his short cloak and tight +cap. The old man took him by the sleeve, drawing him to the fire that +burned day and night in winter. + +"Ralph--Ralph, my son," he said, "I must thank you for last night." + +"You have to thank yourself only, sir, and my mother. I could do no +otherwise." + +"It is you--" began his father. + +"It is certainly not Nick, sir. The hot fool nearly provoked me." + +"But you hate such mummery yourself, my son?" + +Ralph hesitated. + +"It is not seemly--" began his father again. + +"It is certainly not seemly; but neither are the common folk seemly." + +"Did you have much business with them, my son?" Ralph smiled in the +firelight. + +"Why, no, sir. I told them who I was. I charged myself with the burden." + +"And you will not be in trouble with my Lord?" + +"My Lord has other matters to think of than a parcel of mummers." + +Then they separated; and Ralph rode down the drive with his servants +behind him. Neither father nor son had said a word of any return. +Neither had Ralph had one private word with Beatrice during his three +days' stay. Once he had come into the parlour to find her going out at +the other door; and he had wondered whether she had heard his step and +gone out on purpose. But he knew very well that under the superficial +courtesy between him and her there lay something deeper--some passionate +emotion vibrated like a beam between them; but he did not know, even on +his side and still less on hers, whether that emotion were one of love +or loathing. It was partly from the discomfort of the charged +atmosphere, partly from a shrinking from thanks and explanations that he +had determined to go up to London a day earlier than he had intended; he +had a hatred of personal elaborateness. + + * * * * * + +He found Cromwell, on his arrival in London, a little less moody than he +had been in the previous week; for he was busy with preparations for the +Parliament that was to meet in April; and to the occupation that this +gave him there was added a good deal of business connected with Henry's +negotiations with the Emperor. The dispute, that at present centred +round the treatment of Englishmen in Spain, and other similar matters, +in reality ran its roots far deeper; and there were a hundred details +which occupied the minister. But there was still a hint of storm in the +air; Cromwell spoke brusquely once or twice without cause, and Ralph +refrained from saying anything about the affair at Overfield, but took +up his own work again quietly. + +A fortnight later, however, he heard of it once more. + +He was sitting at a second table in Cromwell's own room in the Rolls +House, when one of the secretaries came up with a bundle of reports, and +laid them as usual before Ralph. + +Ralph finished the letter he was engaged on--one to Dr. Barnes who had +preached a Protestant sermon at Paul's Cross, and who now challenged +Bishop Gardiner to a public disputation. Ralph was telling him to keep +his pugnacity to himself; and when he had done took up the reports and +ran his eyes over them. + +They were of the usual nature--complaints, informations, protests, +appeals from men of every rank of life; agents, farm-labourers, priests, +ex-Religious, fanatics--and he read them quickly through, docketing +their contents at the head of each that his master might be saved +trouble. + +At one, however, he stopped, glanced momentarily at Cromwell, and then +read on. + +It was an illiterate letter, ill-spelt and smudged, and consisted of a +complaint from a man who signed himself Robert Benham, against "Mr. +Ralph Torridon, as he named himself," for hindering the performance of a +piece entitled "The Jolly Friar" in the parish of Overfield, on Sunday, +February the first. Mr. Torridon, the writer stated, had used my Lord +Cromwell's name and authority in stopping the play; expenses had been +incurred in connection with it, for a barn had been hired, and the +transport of the properties had cost money; and Mr. Benham desired to +know whether these expenses would be made good to him, and if Mr. +Torridon had acted in accordance with my Lord's wishes. + +Ralph bit his pen in some perplexity, when he had finished making out +the document. He wondered whether he had better show it to Cromwell; it +might irritate him or not, according to his mood. If it was destroyed +surely no harm would be done; and yet Ralph had a disinclination to +destroy it. He sat a moment or two longer considering; once he took the +paper by the corners to tear it; then laid it down again; glanced once +more at the heavy intent face a couple of yards away, and then by a +sudden impulse took up his pen and wrote a line on the corner explaining +the purport of the paper, initialled it, and laid it with the rest. + +Cromwell was so busy during the rest of the day that there was no +opportunity to explain the circumstances to him; indeed he was hardly in +the room again, so great was the crowd that waited on him continually +for interviews, and Ralph went away, leaving the reports for his chief +to examine at his leisure. + + * * * * * + +The next morning there was a storm. + +Cromwell burst out on him as soon as he came in. + +"Shut the door, Mr. Torridon," he snapped. "I must have a word with +you." + +Ralph closed the door and came across to Cromwell's table and stood +there, apparently imperturbable, but with a certain quickening of his +pulse. + +"What is this, sir?" snarled the other, taking up the letter that was +laid at his hand. "Is it true?" + +Ralph looked at him coolly. + +"What is it, my Lord? Mr. Robert Benham?" + +"Yes, Mr. Robert Benham. Is it true? I wish an answer." + +"Certainly, my Lord. It is true." + +"You hindered this piece being played? And you used my name?" + +"I told them who I was--yes." + +Cromwell slapped the paper down. + +"Well, that is to use my name, is it not, Mr. Torridon?" + +"I suppose it is." + +"You suppose it is! And tell me, if you please, why you hindered it." + +"I hindered it because it was not decent. My mother had been buried +that day. My father asked me to do so." + +"Not decent! When the mummers have my authority! + +"If your Lordship does not understand the indecency, I cannot explain +it." + +Ralph was growing angry now. It was not often that Cromwell treated him +like a naughty boy; and he was beginning to resent it. + +The other stared at him under black brows. + +"You are insolent, sir." + +Ralph bowed. + +"See here," said Cromwell, "my men must have no master but me. They must +leave houses and brethren and sisters for my sake. You should understand +that by now; and that I repay them a hundredfold. You have been long +enough in my service to know it. I have said enough. You can sit down, +Mr. Torridon." + +Ralph went to his seat in a storm of fury. He felt he was supremely in +the right--in the right in stopping the play, and still more so for not +destroying the complaint when it was in his hands. He had been scolded +like a school-child, insulted and shouted down. His hand shook as he +took up his pen, and he kept his back resolutely turned to his master. +Once he was obliged to ask him a question, and he did so with an icy +aloofness. Cromwell answered him curtly, but not unkindly, and he went +to his seat again still angry. + +When dinner-time came near, he rose, bowed slightly to Cromwell and went +towards the door. As his fingers touched the handle he heard his name +called; and turned round to see the other looking at him oddly. + +"Mr. Torridon--you will dine with me?" + +"I regret I cannot, my Lord," said Ralph; and went out of the room. + + * * * * * + +There were no explanations or apologies on either side when they met +again; but in a few days their behaviour to one another was as usual. +Yet underneath the smooth surface Ralph's heart rankled and pricked with +resentment. + + * * * * * + +At the meeting of Parliament in April, the business in Cromwell's hands +grew more and more heavy and distracting. + +Ralph went with him to Westminster, and heard him deliver his eloquent +little speech on the discord that prevailed in England, and the King's +determination to restore peace and concord. + +"On the Word of God," cried the statesman, speaking with extraordinary +fervour, his eyes kindling as he looked round the silent crowded +benches, and his left hand playing with his chain, "On the Word of God +His Highness' princely mind is fixed; on this Word he depends for his +sole support; and with all his might his Majesty will labour that error +shall be taken away, and true doctrines be taught to his people, +modelled by the rule of the Gospel." + +Three days later when Ralph came into his master's room, Cromwell looked +up at him with a strange animation in his dark eyes. + +"Good-day, sir," he said; "I have news that I hope will please you. His +Grace intends to confer on me one more mark of his favour. I am to be +Earl of Essex." + +It was startling news. Ralph had supposed that the minister was not +standing so high with the King as formerly, since the unfortunate +incident of the Cleves marriage. He congratulated him warmly. + +"It is a happy omen," said the other. "Let us pray that it be a +constellation and not a single star. There are others of my friends, Mr. +Torridon, who have claim to His Highness' gratitude." + +He looked at him smiling; and Ralph felt his heart quicken once more, as +it always did, at the hint of an honour for himself. + +The business of Parliament went on; and several important bills became +law. A land-act was followed by one that withdrew from most of the towns +of England the protection of a sanctuary in the case of certain +specified crimes; the navy was dealt with; and then in spite of the +promises of the previous years a heavy money-bill was passed. Finally +five more Catholics, four priests and a woman, were attainted for high +treason on various charges. + + * * * * * + +Ralph was not altogether happy as May drew on. There began to be signs +that his master's policy with regard to the Cleves alliance was losing +ground in the councils of the State; but Cromwell himself seemed to +acquiesce, so it appeared as if his own mind was beginning to change. +There was a letter to Pate, the ambassador to the Emperor, that Ralph +had to copy one day, and he gathered from it that conciliation was to be +used towards Charles in place of the old defiance. + +But he did not see much of Parliament affairs this month. + +Cromwell had told him to sort a large quantity of private papers that +had gradually accumulated in Ralph's own house at Westminster; for that +he desired the removal of most of them to his own keeping. + +They were an enormous mass of documents, dealing with every sort and +kind of the huge affairs that had passed through Cromwell's hands for +the last five years. They concerned hundreds of persons, living and +dead--statesmen, nobles, the foreign Courts, priests, Religious, +farmers, tradesmen--there was scarcely a class that was not represented +there. + +Ralph sat hour after hour in his chair with locked doors, sorting, +docketting, and destroying; and amazed by this startling object-lesson +of the vast work in which he had had a hand. There were secrets there +that would burst like a bomb if they were made public--intrigues, +bribes, threats, revelations; and little by little a bundle of the most +important documents accumulated on the table before him. The rest lay in +heaps on the floor. + +Those that he had set aside beneath his own eye were a miscellaneous set +as regarded their contents; the only unity between them lay in the fact +that they were especially perilous to Cromwell. Ralph felt as if he were +handling gunpowder as he took them up one by one or added to the heap. + +The new coronet that my Lord of Essex had lately put upon his head would +not be there another day, if these were made public. There would not be +left even a head to put it upon. Ralph knew that a great minister like +his master was bound to have a finger in very curious affairs; but he +had not recognised how exceptional these were, nor how many, until he +had the bundle of papers before him. There were cases in which persons +accused and even convicted of high treason had been set at liberty on +Cromwell's sole authority without reference to the King; there were +commissions issued in his name under similar conditions; there were +papers containing drafts, in Cromwell's own hand of statements of +doctrine declared heretical by the Six Articles, and of which copies had +been distributed through the country at his express order; there were +copies of letters to country-sheriffs ordering the release of convicted +heretics and the imprisonment of their accusers; there were evidences of +enormous bribes received by him for the perversion of justice. + +Ralph finished his task one June evening, and sat dazed with work and +excitement, his fingers soiled with ink, his tired eyes staring at the +neat bundle before him. + +The Privy Council, he knew, was sitting that afternoon. Even at this +moment, probably, my Lord of Essex was laying down the law, speaking in +the King's name, silencing his opponents by sheer force of will, but +with the Royal power behind him. And here lay the papers. + +He imagined to himself with a fanciful recklessness what would happen if +he made his way into the Council-room, and laid them on the table. It +would be just the end of all things for his master. There would be no +more bullying and denouncing then on that side; it would be a matter of +a fight for life. + +The memory of his own grudge, only five months old, rose before his +mind; and his tired brain grew hot and cloudy with resentment. He took +up the bundle in his hand and wielded it a moment, as a man might test a +sword. Here was a headsman's axe, ground and sharp. + +Then he was ashamed; set the bundle down again, leaned back in his chair +and stretched his arms, yawning. + +What a glorious evening it was! He must go out and take the air for a +little by the river; he would walk down towards Chelsea. + +He rose up from his chair and went to the window, threw it open and +leaned out. His house stood back a little from the street; and there was +a space of cobbled ground between his front-door and the uneven stones +of the thoroughfare. Opposite rose up one of the tall Westminster +houses, pushing forward in its upper stories, with a hundred diamond +panes bright in the slanting sunshine that poured down the street from +the west. Overhead rose up the fantastic stately chimneys, against the +brilliant evening sky, and to right and left the street passed out of +sight in a haze of sunlight. + +It was a very quiet evening; the men had not yet begun to stream +homewards from their occupations; and the women were busy within. A +chorus of birds sounded somewhere overhead; but there was not a living +creature to be seen except a dog asleep in the sunshine at the corner of +the gravel. + +It was delicious to lean out here, away from the fire that burned hot +and red in the grate under its black mass of papers that had been +destroyed,--out in the light and air. Ralph determined that he would let +the fire die now; it would not be needed again. + +He must go out, he told himself, and not linger here. He could lock up +the papers for the present in readiness for their transport next day; +and he wondered vaguely whether his hat and cane were in the +entrance-hall below. + +He straightened himself, and turned away from the window, noticing as he +did so the dog at the corner of the street sit up with cocked ears. He +hesitated and turned back. + +There was a sound of furious running coming up the street. He would just +see who the madman was who ran like this on a hot evening, and then go +out himself. + +As he leaned again the pulsating steps came nearer; they were coming +from the left, the direction of the Palace. + +A moment later a figure burst into sight, crimson-faced and hatless, +with arms gathered to the sides and head thrown back; it appeared to be +a gentleman by the dress--but why should he run like that? He dashed +across the opening and disappeared. + +Ralph was interested. He waited a minute longer; but the footsteps had +ceased; and he was just turning once more from the window, when another +sound made him stand and listen again. + +It came from the same direction as before; and at first he could not +make out what it was. There was a murmur and a pattering. + +It came nearer and louder; and he could distinguish once more running +footsteps. Were they after a thief? he wondered. The murmur and clatter +grew louder yet; and a second or two later two men burst into sight; +one, an apprentice with his leather apron flapping as he ran, the other +a stoutish man like a merchant. They talked and gesticulated as they +went. + +The murmur behind swelled up. There were the voices of many people, men +and women, talking, screaming, questioning. The dog was on his feet by +now, looking intently down the street. + +Then the first group appeared; half a dozen men walking fast or +trotting, talking eagerly. Ralph could not hear what they said. + +Then a number surged into sight all at once, jostling round a centre, +and a clamour went up to heaven. The dog trotted up suspiciously as if +to enquire. + +Ralph grew excited; he scarcely knew why. He had seen hundreds of such +crowds; it might mean anything, from a rise in butter to a declaration +of war. But there was something fiercely earnest about this mob. Was the +King ill? + +He leaned further from the window and shouted; but no one paid him the +slightest attention. The crowd shifted up the street, the din growing +as they went; there was a sound of slammed doors; windows opened +opposite and heads craned out. Something was shouted up and the heads +disappeared. + +Ralph sprang back from the window, as more and more surged into sight; +he went to his door, glancing at his papers as he ran across; unlocked +the door; listened a moment; went on to the landing and shouted for a +servant. + +There was a sound of footsteps and voices below; the men were already +alert, but no answer came to his call. He shouted again. + +"Who is there? Find out what the disturbance means." + +There was an answer from one of his men; and the street door opened and +closed. Again he ran to the window, and saw his man run out without his +doublet across the court, and seize a woman by the arm. + +He waited in passionate expectancy; saw him drop the woman's arm and +turn to another; and then run swiftly back to the house. + +There was something sinister in the man's very movements across that +little space; he ran desperately, with his head craning forward; once he +stumbled; once he glanced up at his master; and Ralph caught a sight of +his face. + +Ralph was on the landing as the steps thundered upstairs, and met him at +the head of the flight. + +"Speak man; what is it?" + +The servant lifted a face stamped with terror, a couple of feet below +Ralph's. + +"They--they say--" + +"What is it?" + +"They say that the King's archers are about my Lord Essex's house." + +Ralph drew a swift breath. + +"Well?" + +"And that my Lord was arrested at the Council to-day." + +Ralph turned, and in three steps was in his room again. The key clacked +in the lock. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A QUESTION OF LOYALTY + + +He did not know how long he stood there, with the bundle of papers +gripped in his two hands; and the thoughts racing through his brain. + +The noises in the street outside waned and waxed again, as the news +swept down the lanes, and recoiled with a wave of excited crowds +following it. Then again they died to a steady far-off murmur as the mob +surged and clamoured round the Palace and Abbey a couple of hundred +yards away. + +At last Ralph sat down; still holding the papers. He must clear his +brain; and how was that possible with the images flashing through it in +endless and vivid succession? For a while he could not steady himself; +the shock was bewildering; he could think of nothing but the appalling +drama. Essex was fallen! + +Then little by little the muddy current of thought began to run clear. +He began to understand what lay before him; and the question that still +awaited decision. + +His first instinct had been to dash the papers on to the fire and grind +them into the red heart of the wood; but something had checked him. Very +slowly he began to analyse that instinct. + +First, was it not useless? He knew he did not possess one hundredth part +of the incriminating evidence that was in existence. Of what service +would it be to his master to destroy that one small bundle? + +Next, what would be the result to himself if he did? It was known that +he was a trusted agent of the minister's; his house would be searched; +papers would be found; it would be certainly known that he had made away +with evidence. There would be records of what he had, in the other +houses. And what then? + +On the other hand if he willingly gave up all that was in his +possession, it would go far to free him from complicity. + +Lastly, like a venomous snake lifting its head, his own private +resentment looked him in the eyes, and there was a new sting added to it +now. He had lost all, he knew well enough; wealth, honour and position +had in a moment shrunk to cinders with Cromwell's fall, and for these +cinders he had lost Beatrice too. He had sacrificed her to his master; +and his master had failed him. A kind of fury succeeded to his dismay. + +Oh, would it not be sweet to add even one more stone to the mass that +was tottering over the head of that mighty bully, that had promised and +not performed? + +He blinked his eyes, shocked by the horror of the thought, and gripped +the bundle yet more firmly. The memories of a thousand kindnesses +received from his master cried at the door of his heart. The sweat +dropped from his forehead; he lifted a stiff hand to wipe it away, and +dropped it again into its grip on the papers. + +Then he slowly recapitulated to himself the reasons for not destroying +them. They were overwhelming, convincing! What was there to set against +them? One slender instinct only, that cried shrill and thin that in +honour he must burn that damning evidence--burn it--burn it--whether or +no it would help or hinder, it must be burnt! + +Then again he recurred to the other side; told himself that his +instinct was no more than a ludicrous sentimentality; he must be guided +by reason, not impulse. Then he glanced at the impulse again. Then the +two sides rushed together, locked in conflict. He moaned a little, and +lay back in his chair. + + * * * * * + +The bright sunlight outside had faded to a mellow evening atmosphere +before he moved again; and the fire had died to one dull core of +incandescence. + +As he stirred, he became aware that bells were pealing outside; a +melodious roar filled the air. Somewhere behind the house five brazen +voices, shouting all together, bellowed the exultation of the city over +the great minister's fall. + +He was weary and stiff as he stood up; but the fever had left his brain; +and the decision had been made. He relaxed his fingers and laid the +bundle softly down on the table from which he had snatched it a couple +of hours before. + +They would be here soon, he knew; he wondered they had not come already. + +Leaving his papers there, he went out, taking the key with him, and +locking the door after him. He called up one of his men, telling him he +would be ready for supper immediately in the parlour downstairs, and +that any visitors who came for him were to be admitted at once. + +Then he passed into his bedroom to wash and change his clothes. + + * * * * * + +Half an hour later he came upstairs again. + +He had supped alone, listening and watching the window as he ate; but no +sign had come of any arrival. He had dressed with particular care, +intending to be found at his ease when the searchers did arrive; there +must be no sign of panic or anxiety. He had told his man as he rose +from table, to say to any that came for him that they were expected, and +to bring them immediately upstairs. + +He unlocked the door of his private room, and went in. All was as he had +left it; the floor between the window and table was white with ordered +heaps of papers; the bundle on the table itself glimmered where he had +laid it. + +The fire had sunk to a spark. He tenderly lifted off the masses of black +sheets that crackled as he touched them; it had not occurred to him +before that these evidences of even a harmless destruction had better be +removed; and he slid them carefully on to a broad sheet of paper, folded +it, shaking the ashes together as he did so, and stood a moment, +wondering where he should hide it. + +The room was growing dark now; he put the package down; went to the fire +and blew it up a little, added some wood, and presently the flames were +dancing on the broad hearth. + +As he stood up again he heard the knocker rap on his street-door. For a +moment he had an instinct to run to the window and see who was there; +but he put it aside; there was scarcely time to hide the ashes; and it +was best too to give no hint of anxiety. He lifted the package of burnt +papers once more, and stood hesitating; a press would be worse than +useless as a hiding-place; all such would of course be searched. Then a +thought struck him; he stood up noiselessly on his chair. The Holbein +portrait of Cromwell in his furred gown and chain leaned forward from +the tapestry over the mantelpiece. Ralph set one hand against the wall +at the side; and then tenderly let the package fall behind the portrait. +As he did so the painted and living eyes were on a level; it seemed +strange to him that the faces were so near together at that moment; and +it struck him with a grim irony that the master should be so protecting +the servant under these circumstances. + +Then he dropped lightly to the ground, and sat quickly in the chair, +snatching up the bundle of papers from the table as he did so. + +The steps were on the landing now; he heard the crack of the balustrade; +but it seemed they were coming very quietly. + +There was a moment's silence; the muscles of his throat contracted +sharply, then there came the servant's tap; the handle was turned. + +Ralph stood up quickly, still holding the papers, as the door opened, +and Beatrice stepped forward into the room. The door shut noiselessly +behind her. + + * * * * * + +She stood there, with the firelight playing on her dark loose-sleeved +mantle, the hood that surrounded her head, her pale face a little +flushed, and her black steady eyes. Her breath came quickly between her +parted lips. + +Ralph stared at her, dazed by the shock, still gripping the bundle of +papers. She moved forward a step; and the spell snapped. + +"Mistress Beatrice," he said. + +"I have come," she said; "what is it? You want me?" + +She came round the table, with an air of eager expectancy. + +"I--I did not know," said Ralph. + +"But you wanted me. What is the matter? I heard you call." + +Ralph stared again, bewildered. + +"Call?" he said. + +"Yes, I heard you. I was in my room at my aunt's house--ah! a couple of +hours ago. You called me twice. 'Beatrice! Beatrice!' Then--then they +told me what had happened about my Lord Essex." + +"I called you?" repeated Ralph. + +"Yes--you called me. Your voice was quite close to me, at my ear; I +thought you were in the room. Tell me what it is." + +She loosened her hold of her mantle as she stood there by the table; and +it dropped open, showing a sparkle of jewels at her throat. She threw +back her hood, and it dropped on to her shoulders, leaving visible the +coiled masses of her black hair set with knots of ribbon. + +"I did not call," said Ralph dully. "I do not know what you mean, +Mistress Atherton." + +She made a little impatient gesture. + +"Ah! yes," she said, "it is something. Tell me quickly. I suppose it has +to do with my Lord. What is it?" + +"It is nothing," said Ralph again. + +They stood looking at one another in silence. Beatrice's eyes ran a +moment up and down his rich dress, the papers in his hands, then +wandered to the heaped floor, the table, and returned to the papers in +his hands. + +"You must tell me," she said. "What is that you are holding?" + +An angry terror seized Ralph. + +"That is my affair, Mistress Atherton. What is your business with me?" + +She came a step nearer, and leant her left hand on his table. He could +see those steady eyes on his face; she looked terribly strong and +controlled. + +"Indeed you must tell me, Mr. Torridon. I am come here to do something. +I do not know what. What are those papers?" + +He turned and dropped them on to the chair behind him. + +"I tell you again, I do not know what you mean." + +"It is useless," she said. "Have they been to you yet? What do you mean +to do about my Lord? You know he is in the Tower?" + +"I suppose so," said Ralph, "but my counsel is my own." + +"Mr. Torridon, let us have an end of this. I know well that you must +have many secrets against my lord--" + +"I tell you that what I know is nothing. I have not a hundredth part of +his papers." + +He felt himself desperate and bewildered, like a man being pushed to the +edge of a precipice, step by step. But those black eyes held and +compelled him on. He scarcely knew what he was saying. + +"And are these papers all his? What have you been doing with them?" + +"My Lord told me to sort them." + +The words were drawn out against his own will. + +"And those in your hand--on the chair. What are they?" + +Ralph made one more violent effort to regain the mastery. + +"If you were not a woman, Mistress Atherton, I should tell you you were +insolent." + +Not a ripple troubled those strong eyes. + +"Tell me, Mr. Torridon, what are they?" + +He stood silent and furious. + +"I will tell you what they are," she said; "they are my Lord's secrets. +Is it not so? And you were about to burn them. Oh! Ralph, is it not so?" + +Her voice had a tone of entreaty in it. He dropped his eyes, overcome by +the passion that streamed from her. + +"Is it not so?" she cried again. + +"Do you wish me to do so?" he said amazed. His voice seemed not his own; +it was as if another spoke for him. He had the same sensation of +powerlessness as once before when she had lashed him with her tongue in +the room downstairs. + +"Wish you?" she cried. "Why, yes; what else?" + +He lifted his eyes to hers; the room seemed to have grown darker yet in +those few minutes. He could only see now a shadowed face looking at him; +but her bright passionate eyes shone out from it and dominated him. + +Again he spoke, in spite of himself. + +"I shall not burn them," he said. + +"Shall not? shall not?" + +"I shall not," he said again. + +There was silence. Ralph's soul was struggling desperately within him. +He put out his hand mechanically and took up the papers once more, as if +to guard them from this fierce, imperious woman. Beatrice's eyes +followed the movement; and then rested once more on his face. Then she +spoke again, with a tense deliberateness that drove every word home, +piercing and sharp to the very centre of his spirit. + +"Listen," she said, "for this is what I came to say. I know what you are +thinking--I know every thought as if it were my own. You tell yourself +that it is useless to burn those secrets; that there are ten thousand +more--enough to cast my lord. I make no answer to that." + +"You tell yourself that you can only save yourself by giving them up to +his enemies. I make no answer to that." + +"You tell yourself that it will be known if you destroy them--that you +will be counted as one of His Highness's enemies. I make no answer to +that. And I tell you to burn them." + +She came a step nearer. There was not a yard between them now; and the +fire of her words caught and scorched him with their bitterness. + +"You have been false to every high and noble thing. You have been false +to your own conscience--to your father--your brother--your sister--your +Church--your King and your God. You have been false to love and honour. +You have been false to yourself. And now Almighty God of His courtesy +gives you one more opportunity--an opportunity to be true to your +master. I say nothing of him. God is his judge. You know what that +verdict will be. And yet I bid you be true to him. He has a thousand +claims on you. You have served him, though it be but Satan's service; +yet it is the highest that you know--God help you! He is called +friendless now. Shall that be wholly true of him? You will be called a +traitor presently--shall that be wholly true of you? Or shall there be +one tiny point in which you are not false and treacherous as you have +been in all other points?" + +She stopped again, looking him fiercely in the eyes. + + * * * * * + +From the street outside there came the sound of footsteps; the ring of +steel on stone. Ralph heard it, and his eyes rolled round to the window; +but he did not move. + +Beatrice was almost touching him now. He felt the fragrance that hung +about her envelop him for a moment. Then he felt a touch on the papers; +and his fingers closed more tightly. + +The steps outside grew louder and ceased; and the house suddenly +reverberated with a thunder of knocking. + +Beatrice sprang back. + +"Nay, you shall give me them," she said; and stood waiting with +outstretched hand. + +Ralph lifted the papers slowly, stared at them, and at her. + +Then he held them out. + + * * * * * + +In a moment she had snatched them; and was on her knees by the hearth. +Ralph watched her, and listened to the steps coming up the stairs. The +papers were alight now. The girl dashed her fingers among them, +grinding, tearing, separating the heavy pages. + +They were almost gone by now; the thick smoke poured up the chimney; and +still Beatrice tore and dashed the ashes about. + +There was a knocking at the door; and the handle turned. The girl rose +from her knees and smiled at Ralph as the door opened, and the +pursuivants stood there in the opening. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +TO CHARING + + +Chris had something very like remorse after Ralph had left Overfield, +and no words of explanation or regret had been spoken on either side. He +recognised that he had not been blameless at the beginning of their +estrangement--if, indeed, there ever had been a beginning--for their +inflamed relations had existed to some extent back into boyhood as far +as he could remember; but he had been responsible for at least a share +in the fierce words in Ralph's house after the death of the Carthusians. +He had been hot-headed, insolent, theatrical; and he had not written to +acknowledge it. He had missed another opportunity at Lewes--at least +one--when pride had held him back from speaking, for fear that he should +be thought to be currying favour. And now this last opportunity, the +best of all--when Ralph had been accessible and courteous, affected, +Chris imagined, by the death of his mother--this too had been missed; +and he had allowed his brother to ride away without a word of regret or +more than formal affection. + +He was troubled at mass, an hour after Ralph had gone; the distraction +came between him and the sweet solemnity upon which he was engaged. His +soul was dry and moody. He showed it in his voice. As a younger brother +in past years; as a monk and a priest now, he knew that the duty of the +first step to a reconciliation had lain with him; and that he had not +taken it. + +It had been a troubled household altogether when Ralph had gone. There +was first the shock of Lady Torridon's death, and the hundred regrets +that it had left behind. Then Beatrice too, who had helped them all so +much, had told them that she must go back to town--her aunt was alone in +the little house at Charing, for the friend who had spent Christmas +there was gone back to the country; and Margaret, consequently, had been +almost in despair. Lastly Sir James himself had been troubled; wondering +whether he might not have been warmer with Ralph, more outspoken in his +gratitude for the affair of the mummers, more ready to welcome an +explanation from his son. The shadow of Ralph then rested on the +household, and there was something of pathos in it. He was so much +detached now, so lonely, and it seemed that he was content it should be +so. + + * * * * * + +There were pressing matters too to be arranged; and, weightiest of all, +those relating to Margaret's future. She would now be the only woman +besides the servants, in the house; and it was growing less and less +likely that she would be ever able to take up the Religious Life again +in England. There seemed little reason for her remaining in the country, +unless indeed she threw aside the Religious habit altogether, and went +to live at Great Keynes as Mary preferred. Beatrice made an offer to +receive her in London for a while, but in this case again she would have +to wear secular dress. + +The evening before Beatrice left, the two sat and talked for a couple of +hours. Margaret was miserable; she cried a little, clung to Beatrice, +and then was ashamed of herself. + +"My dear child," said the other. "It is in your hands. You can do as you +please." + +"But I cannot," sobbed the nun. "I cannot; I do not know. Let me come +with you, Beatrice." + +Beatrice then settled down and talked to her. She told her of her duty +to her father for the present; she must remember that he was lonely now. +In any case she must not think of leaving home for another six months. +In the meantime she had to consider two points. First, did she consider +herself in conscience bound to Religion? What did the priest tell her? +If she did so consider herself, then there was no question; she must go +to Bruges and join the others. Secondly, if not, did she think herself +justified in leaving her father in the summer? If so, she might either +go to Great Keynes, or come up for at least a long visit to Charing. + +"And what do you think?" asked the girl piteously. + +"Do you wish me to tell you!" said Beatrice. + +Margaret nodded. + +"Then I think you should go to Bruges in July or August." + +Margaret stared at her; the tears were very near her eyes again. + +"My darling; I should love to have you in London," went on the other +caressing her. "Of course I should. But I cannot see that King Henry his +notions make any difference to your vows. They surely stand. Is it not +so, my dear?" + +And so after a little more talk Margaret consented. Her mind had told +her that all along; it was her heart only that protested against this +final separation from her friend. + +Chris too agreed when she spoke to him a day or two later when Beatrice +had gone back. He said he had been considering his own case too; and +that unless something very marked intervened he proposed to follow Dom +Anthony abroad. They could travel together, he said. Finally, when the +matter was laid before their father he also consented. + +"I shall do very well," he said. "Mary spoke to me of it; and Nicholas +has asked me to make my home at Great Keynes; so if you go, my son, with +Meg in the summer, I shall finish matters here, lease out the estate, +and Mr. Carleton and I shall betake ourselves there. Unless"--he +said--"unless Ralph should come to another mind." + + * * * * * + +As the spring and early summer drew on, the news, as has been seen, was +not reassuring. + +In spite of the Six Articles of the previous year by which all vows of +chastity were declared binding before God, there was no hint of making +it possible for the thousands of Religious in England still compelled by +them to return to the Life in which such vows were tolerable. The +Religious were indeed dispensed from obedience and poverty by the civil +authority; it was possible for them to buy, inherit, and occupy +property; but a recognition of their corporate life was as far as ever +away. It was becoming plainer every day that those who wished to pursue +their vocation must do so in voluntary exile; and letters were already +being exchanged between the brother and sister at home and the +representatives of their respective communities on the Continent. + +Then suddenly on the eleventh of June there arrived the news of +Cromwell's fall and of all that it involved to Ralph. + +They were at dinner when it came. + +There was a door suddenly thrust open at the lower end of the hall; and +a courier, white with dust and stiff with riding, limped up the matting +and delivered Beatrice's letter. It was very short. + +"Come," she had written. "My Lord of Essex is arrested. He is in the +Tower. Mr. Ralph, too, is there for refusing to inform against him. He +has behaved gallantly." + +There followed a line from Mistress Jane Atherton, her aunt, offering +rooms in her own house. + + * * * * * + +A wild confusion fell upon the household. Men ran to and fro, women +whispered and sobbed in corners under shadow of the King's displeasure +that lay on the house, the road between the terrace and the stable +buzzed with messengers, ordering and counter-ordering, for it was not +certain at first that Margaret would not go. A mounted groom dashed up +for instructions and was met by Sir James in his riding-cloak on the +terrace who bade him ride to Great Keynes with the news, and entreat Sir +Nicholas Maxwell to come up to London and his wife to Overfield; there +was not time to write. Sir James's own room was in confusion; his +clothes lay tumbled on the ground and a distraught servant tossed them +this way and that; Chris was changing his habit upstairs, for it would +mean disaster to go to town as a monk. Margaret was on her knees in +chapel, silent and self-controlled, but staring piteously at the +compassionate figure of the great Mother who looked down on her with Her +Son in Her arms. The huge dog under the chapel-cloister lifted his head +and bayed in answer, as frantic figures fled across the court before +him. And over all lay the hot June sky, and round about the deep +peaceful woods. + +A start was made at three o'clock. + +Sir James was already in his saddle, as Chris ran out; an unfamiliar +figure in his plain priest's cloak and cap and great riding boots +beneath. A couple of grooms waited behind, and another held the monk's +horse. Margaret was on the steps, white and steadied by prayer; and the +chaplain stood behind with a strong look in his eyes as they met those +of his patron. + +"Take care of her, father; take care of her. Her sister will be here +to-night, please God. Oh! God bless you, my dear! Pray for us all. Jesu +keep us all! Chris, are you mounted?" + +Then they were off; and the white dust rose in clouds about them. + + * * * * * + +It was between eight and nine as they rode up the north bank of the +river from London Bridge to Charing. + +It had been a terrible ride, with but few words between the two, and +long silences that were the worst of all; as, blotting out the rich +country and the deep woods and the meadows and heathery hills on either +side of the road through Surrey, visions moved and burned before them, +such as the King's vengeance had made possible to the imagination. From +far away across the Southwark fields Chris had seen the huddled +buildings of the City, the princely spire that marked them, and had +heard the sweet jangling of the thousand bells that told the Angelus; +but he had thought of little but of that high gateway under which they +must soon pass, where the pikes against the sky made palpable the +horrors of his thought. He had given one swift glance up as he went +beneath; and then his heart sickened as they went on, past the houses +and St. Thomas's chapel with gleams of the river seen beneath. Then as +he looked his breath came sharp; far down there eastwards, seen for a +moment, rose up the sombre towers where Ralph lay, and the saints had +suffered. + +The old Religious Houses, stretching in a splendid line upwards, from +the Augustinian priory near the river-bank, along the stream that flowed +down from Ludgate, caught the last rays of sunlight high against the +rich sky as the riders went along towards Charing between the +sedge-brinked tide and the slope of grass on their right; and the monk's +sorrowful heart was overlaid again with sorrow as he looked at them, +empty now and desolate where once the praises of God had sounded day and +night. + +They stopped beneath the swinging sign of an inn, with Westminister +towers blue and magical before them, to ask for Mistress Atherton's +house, and were directed a little further along and nearer to the +water's edge. + +It was a little old house when they came to it, built on a tiny private +embankment that jutted out over the flats of the river-bank; of plaster +and timber with overhanging storeys and windows beneath the roof. It +stood by itself, east of the village, and almost before the jangle of +the bell had died away, Beatrice herself was at the door, in her +house-dress, bare-headed; with a face at once radiant and constrained. + +She took them upstairs immediately, after directing the men to take the +horses, when they had unloaded the luggage, back to the inn where they +had enquired the way: for there was no stable, she said, attached to the +house. + +Chris came behind his father as if in a dream through the dark little +hall and up the two flights on to the first landing. Beatrice stopped at +a door. + +"You can say what you will," she said, "before my aunt. She is of our +mind in these matters." + +Then they were in the room; a couple of candles burned on a table before +the curtained window; and an old lady with a wrinkled kindly face +hobbled over from her chair and greeted the two travellers. + +"I welcome you, gentlemen," she said, "if a sore heart may say so to +sore hearts." + +There was no news of Nicholas, they were told; he had not been heard of. + + * * * * * + +They heard the story so far as Beatrice knew it; but it was softened for +their ears. She had found Ralph, she said, hesitating what to do. He had +been plainly bewildered by the sudden news; they had talked a while; and +then he had handed her the papers to burn. The magistrate sent by the +Council had arrived to find the ashes still smoking. He had questioned +Ralph sharply, for he had come with authority behind him; and Ralph had +refused to speak beyond telling him that the bundles lying on the floor +were all the papers of my Lord Essex that were in his possession. They +had laid hands on these, and then searched the room. A quantity of +ashes, Beatrice said, had fallen from behind a portrait over the hearth +when they had shifted it. Then the magistrate had questioned her too, +enquired where she lived, and let her go. She had waited at the corner +of the street, and watched the men come out. Ralph walked in the centre +as a prisoner. She had followed them to the river; had mixed with the +crowd that gathered there; and had heard the order given to the +wherryman to pull to the Tower. That was all that she knew. + +"Thank God for your son, sir. He bore himself gallantly." + +There was a silence as she ended. The old man looked at her wondering +and dazed. It was so sad, that the news scarcely yet conveyed its +message. + +"And my Lord Essex?" he said. + +"My Lord is in the Tower too. He was arrested at the Council by the Duke +of Norfolk." + +The old lady intervened then, and insisted on their going down to +supper. It would be ready by now, she said, in the parlour downstairs. + +They supped, themselves silent, with Beatrice leaning her arms on the +table, and talking to them in a low voice, telling them all that was +said. She did not attempt to prophesy smoothly. The feeling against +Cromwell, she said, passed all belief. The streets had been filled with +a roaring crowd last night. She had heard them bellowing till long after +dark. The bells were pealed in the City churches hour after hour, in +triumph over the minister's fall. + +"The dogs!" she said fiercely. "I never thought to say it, but my heart +goes out to him." + +Her spirit was infections. Chris felt a kind of half-joyful recklessness +tingle in his veins, as he listened to her talk, and watched her black +eyes hot with indignation and firm with purpose. What if Ralph were +cast? At least it was for faithfulness--of a kind. Even the father's +face grew steadier; that piteous trembling of the lower lip ceased, and +the horror left his eyes. It was hard to remain in panic with that girl +beside them. + +They had scarcely done supper when the bell of the outer door rang +again, and a moment later Nicholas was with them, flushed with hard +riding. He strode into the room, blinking at the lights, and tossed his +riding whip on to the table. + +"I have been to the Lieutenant of the Tower," he said; "I know him of +old. He promises nothing. He tells me that Ralph is well-lodged. Mary is +gone to Overfield. God damn the King!" + +He had no more news to give. He had sent off his wife at once on +receiving the tidings, and had started half an hour later for London. He +had been ahead of them all the way, it seemed; but had spent a couple of +hours first in trying to get admittance to the Tower, and then in +interviewing the Lieutenant; but there was no satisfaction to be gained +there. The utmost he had wrung from him was a promise that he would see +him again, and hear what he had to say. + +Then Nicholas had to sup and hear the whole story from the beginning; +and Chris left his father to tell it, and went up with Beatrice to +arrange about rooms. + +Matters were soon settled with the old lady; Nicholas and Chris were to +sleep in one room, and Sir James in an another. Two servants only could +be accommodated in the house; the rest were to put up at the inn. +Beatrice went off to give the necessary orders. + +Mistress Jane Atherton and Chris had a few moments together before the +others came up. + +"A sore heart," said the old lady again, "but a glad one too. Beatrice +has told me everything." + +"I am thankful too," said Chris softly. "I wonder if my father +understands." + +"He will, father, he will. But even if he does not--well, God knows +all." + +It was evident when Sir James came upstairs presently that he did not +understand anything yet, except that Beatrice thought that Ralph had +behaved well. + +"But it is to my Lord Essex--who has been the worker of all the +mischief--that my son is faithful. Is that a good thing then?" + +"Why, yes," said Chris. "You would not have him faithless there too?" + +"But would he not be on God's side at last, if he were against +Cromwell?" + +The old man was still too much bewildered to understand explanations, +and his son was silent. + + * * * * * + +Chris could not sleep that night, and long after Nicholas lay deep in +his pillow, with open mouth and tight eyes, the priest was at the window +looking out over the river where the moon hung like a silver shield +above Southwark. The meadows beyond the stream were dim and colourless; +here and there a roof rose among trees; and straight across the broad +water to his feet ran a path of heaving glory, where the strong ripple +tossed the silver surface that streamed down upon it from the moon. + +London lay round him as quiet as Overfield, and Chris remembered with a +stir at his heart his moonlight bathe all those years ago in the lake at +home, when he had come back hot from hunting and had slipped down with +the chaplain after supper. Then the water had seemed like a cool restful +gulf in the world of sensation; the moon had not been risen at first; +only the stars pricked above and below in air and water. Then the moon +had come up, and a path of splendour had smitten the surface into sight. +He had swum up it, he remembered, the silver ripple washing over his +shoulders as he went. + +And now those years of monastic peace and storm had come and gone, +sifting and penetrating his soul, washing out from it little by little +the heats and passions with which he had plunged. As he looked back on +himself he was astonished at his old complacent smallness. His figure +appeared down that avenue of years, a tiny passionate thing, +gesticulating, feverish, self-conscious. He remembered his serene +certainty that he was right and Ralph wrong in every touch of friction +between them, his own furious and theatrical outburst at the death of +the Carthusians, his absurd dignity on later occasions. Even in those +first beginnings of peace when the inner life had begun to well up and +envelop him he had been narrow and self-centred; he had despised the +common human life, not understanding that God's Will was as energetic in +the bewildering rush of the current as in the quiet sheltered +back-waters to which he himself had been called. He had been awakened +from that dream by the fall of the Priory, and that to which he opened +his eyes had been forced into his consciousness by the months at home, +when he had had that astringent mingling of the world and the spirit, of +the interpenetration of the inner by the outer. And now for the first +time he stood as a balanced soul between the two, alight with a tranquil +grace within, and not afraid to look at the darkness without. He was +ready now for either life, to go back to the cloister and labour there +for the world at the springs of energy, or to take his place in the new +England and struggle at the tossing surface. + +He stood here now by the hurrying turbulent stream, a wider and more +perilous gulf than that that had lain before him as he looked at the +moonlit lake at Overfield and yet over it brooded the same quiet shield +of heaven, gilding the black swift flowing forces with the promise of a +Presence greater than them all. + +He stood there long, staring and thinking. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A RELIEF-PARTY + + +The days that followed were very anxious and troubled ones for Ralph's +friends at Charing. They were dreadful too from their very +uneventfulness. + +On the morning following their arrival Chris went off to the Temple to +consult a lawyer that the Lieutenant had recommended to Nicholas, and +brought him back with him an hour later. The first need to be supplied +was their lack of knowledge as to procedure; and the four men sat +together until dinner, in the parlour on the first floor looking over +the sunlit river; and discussed the entire situation. + +The lawyer, Mr. Herries, a shrewd-faced Northerner, sat with his back to +the window, fingering a quill horizontally in his lean brown fingers and +talking in short sentences, glancing up between them, with patient +silences as the others talked. He seemed the very incarnation of the +slow inaction that was so infinitely trying to these anxious souls. + +The three laymen did not even know the crime with which Ralph was +charged, but they soon learnt that the technical phrase for it was +misprision of treason. + +"Mr. Torridon was arrested, I understand," said the lawyer, "by order of +Council. He would have been arrested in any case. He was known to be +privy to my Lord Essex's schemes. You inform me that he destroyed +evidence. That will go against him if they can prove it." + +He drew the quill softly through his lips, and then fell to fingering it +again, as the others stared at him. + +"However," went on Mr. Herries, "that is not our affair now. There will +be time for that. Our question is, when will he be charged, and how? My +Lord Essex may be tried by a court, or attainted in Parliament. I should +suppose the latter. Mr. Torridon will be treated in the same way. If it +be the former, we can do nothing but wait and prepare our case. If it be +the latter, we must do our utmost to keep his name out of the bill." + +He went on to explain his reasons for thinking that a bill of attainder +would be brought against Cromwell. It was the customary method, he said, +for dealing with eminent culprits, and its range had been greatly +extended by Cromwell himself. At this moment three Catholics lay in the +Tower, attainted through the statesman's own efforts, for their supposed +share in a conspiracy to deliver up Calais to the invaders who had +threatened England in the previous year. Feeling, too, ran very high +against Cromwell; the public would be impatient of a long trial; and a +bill of attainder would give a readier outlet to the fury against him. + +This then was the danger; but they could do nothing, said the lawyer, to +avert it, until they could get information. He would charge himself with +that business, and communicate with them as soon as he knew. + +"And then?" asked Chris, looking at him desperately, for the cold +deliberate air of Mr. Herries gave him a terrible sense of the +passionless process of the law. + +"I was about to speak of that," said the lawyer. "If it goes as I think +it will, and Mr. Torridon's name is suggested for the bill, we must +approach the most powerful friends we can lay hold on, to use their +influence against his inclusion. Have you any such, sir?" he added, +looking at Sir James sharply over the quill. + +The old man shook his head. + +"I know no one," he said. + +The lawyer pursed his lips. + +"Then we must do the best we can. We can set aside at once all of my +Lord Essex's enemies--and--and he has many now. Two names come to my +mind. Master Ralph Sadler--the comptroller; and my Lord of Canterbury." + +"Ah!" cried Chris, dropping his hand, "my Lord of Canterbury! My brother +has had dealings with him." + +Sir James straightened himself in his chair. + +"I will ask no favour of that fellow," he said sternly. + +The lawyer looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. + +"Well, sir," he said, "if you will not you will not. But I cannot +suggest a better. He is in high favour with his Grace; they say he has +already said a word for my Lord Essex--not much--much would be too much, +I think; but still 'twas something. And what of Master Sadler?" + +"I know nothing of him," faltered the old man. + +There was silence a moment. + +"Well, sir," said Mr. Herries, "you can think the matter over. I am for +my Lord of Canterbury; for the reasons I have named to you. But we can +wait a few days. We can do nothing until the method of procedure is +known." + +Then he went; promising to let them know as soon as he had information. + + * * * * * + +Rumours began to run swiftly through the City. It was said, though +untruly at that time, that Cromwell had addressed a letter to the King +at Henry's own request, explaining his conduct, utterly denying that he +had said certain rash words attributed to him, and that His Majesty was +greatly affected by it. There was immense excitement everywhere; a crowd +assembled daily outside Westminster Hall; groups at every corner of the +streets discussed the fallen minister's chances; and shouts were raised +for those who were known to be his enemies, the Duke of Norfolk, Rich, +and others--as they rode through to the Palace. + +Meanwhile Ralph's friends could do little. Nicholas rode down once or +twice to see the Lieutenant of The Tower, and managed to extract a +promise that Ralph should hear of their presence in London; but he could +not get to see him, or hear any news except that he was in good health +and spirits, and was lodged in a private cell. + +Then suddenly one afternoon a small piece of news arrived from Mr. +Herries to the effect that Cromwell was to be attainted; and anxiety +became intense as to whether Ralph would be included. Sir James could +eat nothing at supper, but sat crumbling his bread, while Beatrice +talked almost feverishly in an attempt to distract him. Finally he rose +and went out, and the others sat on, eyeing one another, anxious and +miserable. + +In desperation Nicholas began to talk of his visit to the Tower, of the +Lieutenant's timidity, and his own insistence; and they noticed nothing, +till the door was flung open, and the old man stood there, his eyes +bright and his lips trembling with hope. He held a scrap of paper in his +hand. + +"Listen," he cried as the others sprang to their feet. + +"A fellow has just come from Mr. Herries with this"--he lifted the paper +and read,--"Mr. Torridon's name is not in the bill. I will be with you +to-morrow." + +"Thank God!" said Chris. + + * * * * * + +There was another long discussion the following morning. Mr. Herries +arrived about ten o'clock to certify his news; and the four sat till +dinner once again, talking and planning. There was not the same +desperate hurry now; the first danger was passed. + +There was only one thing that the lawyer could do, and that was to +repeat his advice to seek the intercession of the Archbishop. He +observed again that while Cranmer had the friendship of the fallen +minister, he had not in any sense been involved in his fall; he was +still powerful with the King, and of considerable weight with the +Council in consequence. He was likely therefore to be both able and +willing to speak on behalf of Cromwell's agent. + +"But I would advise nothing to be done until the bill of attainder has +come before Parliament. We do not know yet how far Mr. Torridon's action +has affected the evidence. From what you say, gentlemen, and from what I +have heard elsewhere, I should think that the papers Mr. Torridon +destroyed are not essential to a conviction. My Lord's papers at his own +house are sufficient." + +But they had some difficulty in persuading Sir James to consent to ask a +favour of the Archbishop. In his eyes, Cranmer was beyond the pale of +decency; he had lived with two women, said the old man, whom he called +his wives, although as a priest he was incapable of marriage; he had +violated his consecration oath; he had blessed and annulled the frequent +marriages of the King with equal readiness; he was a heretic confessed +and open on numberless points of the Catholic Faith. + +Mr. Herries pointed out with laborious minuteness that this was beside +the question altogether. He did not propose that Sir James Torridon +should go to the Archbishop as to a spiritual superior, but as to one +who chanced to have great influence;--if he were a murderer it would +make no difference to his advice. + +Chris broke in with troubled eyes. + +"Indeed, sir," he said to his father, "you know how I am with you in +all that you say; and yet I am with Mr. Herries too. I do not +understand--" + +"God help us," cried the old man. "I do not know what to do." + +"Will you talk with Mistress Beatrice?" asked Chris. + +Sir James nodded. + +"I will do that," he said. + + * * * * * + +The next day the bill was passed; and the party in the house at Charing +sat sick at heart within doors, hearing the crowds roaring down the +street, singing and shouting in triumph. Every cry tore their hearts; +for was it not against Ralph's master and friend that they rejoiced? As +they sat at supper a great battering broke out at the door that looked +on to the lane; and they sprang up to hear a drunken voice bellowing at +them to come out and shout for liberty. Nicholas went crimson with +anger; and he made a movement towards the hall, his hand on his hilt. + +"Ah! sit down, Nick," said the monk. "The drunken fool is away again." + +And they heard the steps reel on towards Westminster. + + * * * * * + +It was not until a fortnight later that they went at last to Lambeth. + +Sir James had been hard to persuade; but Beatrice had succeeded at last. +Nicholas had professed himself ready to ask a favour of the devil +himself under the circumstances; and Chris himself continued to support +the lawyer's opinion. He repeated his arguments again and again. + +Then it was necessary to make an appointment with the Archbishop; and a +day was fixed at last. My Lord would see them, wrote a secretary, at +two o'clock on the afternoon of July the third. + +Beatrice sat through that long hot afternoon in the window-seat of the +upstairs parlour, looking out over the wide river below, conscious +perhaps for the first time of the vast weight of responsibility that +rested on her. + +She had seen them go off in a wherry, the father and son with Nicholas +in the stern, and the lawyer facing them on the cross-bench; they had +been terribly silent as they walked down to the stairs; had stood +waiting there without a word being spoken but by herself, as the wherry +made ready; and she had talked hopelessly, desperately, to relieve the +tension. Then they had gone off. Sir James had looked back at her over +his shoulder as the boat put out; and she had seen his lips move. She +had watched them grow smaller and smaller as they went, and then when a +barge had come between her and them, she had gone home alone to wait for +their return, and the tidings that they would bring. + +And she, in a sense was responsible for it all. If it had not been for +her visit to Ralph, he would have handed the papers over to the +authorities; he would be at liberty now, no doubt, as were Cromwell's +other agents; and, as she thought of it, her tortured heart asked again +and again whether after all she had done right. + +She went over the whole question, as she sat there, looking out over the +river towards Lambeth, fingering the shutter, glancing now and again at +the bent old figure of her aunt in her tall chair, and listening to the +rip of the needle through the silk. Could she have done otherwise? Was +her interference and advice after all but a piece of mad chivalry, +unnecessary and unpractical? + +And yet she knew that she would do it again, if the same circumstances +arose. It would be impossible to do otherwise. Reason was against it; +Mr. Herries had hinted as much with a quick lifting of his bushy +eyebrows as she had told him the story. It would have made no difference +to Cromwell--ah! but she had not done it for that; it was for the sake +of Ralph himself; that he might not lose the one opportunity that came +to him of making a movement back towards the honour he had forfeited. + +But it was no less torture to think of it all, as she sat here. She had +faced the question before; but now the misery she had watched during +these last three weeks had driven it home. Day by day she had seen the +old father's face grow lined and haggard as the suspense gnawed at his +heart; she had watched him at meals--had seen him sit in bewildered +grief, striving for self-control and hope--had seen him, as the light +faded in the parlour upstairs, sink deeper into himself; his eyes hidden +by his hand, and his grey pointed beard twitching at the trembling of +his mouth. Once or twice she had met his eyes fixed on hers, in a +questioning stare, and had known what was in his heart--a simple, +unreproachful wonder at the strange events that had made her so +intimately responsible for his son's happiness. + +She thought of Margaret too, as she sat there; of the poor girl who had +so rested on her, believed in her, loved her. There she was now at +Overfield, living in a nightmare of suspense, watching so eagerly for +the scanty letters, disappointed every time of the good news for which +she hoped.... + + * * * * * + +The burden was an intolerable one. Beatrice was scarcely conscious of +where she sat or for what she waited. She was living over again every +detail of her relations with Ralph. She remembered how she had seen him +at first at Chelsea; how he had come out with Master More from the door +of the New Building and across the grass. She had been twisting a +grass-ring then as she listened to the talk, and had tossed it on to the +dog's back. Then, day by day she had met him; he had come at all hours; +and she had watched him, for she thought she had found a man. She +remembered how her interest had deepened; how suddenly her heart had +leapt that evening when she came into the hall and found him sitting in +the dark. Then, step by step, the friendship had grown till it had +revealed its radiant face at the bitterness of Chris's words in the +house at Westminster. Then her life had become magical; all the world +cried "Ralph" to her; the trumpets she heard sounded to his praise; the +sunsets had shone for him and her. Then came the news of the Visitors' +work; and her heart had begun to question her insistently; the questions +had become affirmation; and in one passionate hour she had gone to him, +scourged him with her tongue, and left him. She had seen him again once +or twice in the years that followed; had watched him from a window hung +with tapestries in Cheapside, as he rode down beside the King; and had +not dared to ask herself what her heart so longed to tell her. Then had +come the mother's question; and the falling of the veils. + +Then he had called her; she never doubted that; as she sat alone in her +room one evening. It had come, thin and piteous;--"Beatrice, Beatrice." +He needed her, and she had gone, and meddled with his life once more. + +And he lay in the Tower.... + + * * * * * + +"Beatrice, my child." + +She turned from the window, her eyes blind with tears; and in a moment +was kneeling at her aunt's side, her face buried in her lap, and felt +those kindly old hands passing over her hair. She heard a murmur over +her head, but scarcely caught a word. There was but one thing she +needed, and that-- + +Then she knelt suddenly upright listening, and the caressing hand was +still. + +"Beatrice, my dear, Beatrice." + + * * * * * + +There were footsteps on the stairs outside, eager and urgent. The girl +rose to her feet, and stood there, swaying a little with a restrained +expectation. + +Then the door was open, and Chris was there, flushed and radiant, with +the level evening light full on his face. + +"It is all well," he cried, "my Lord will take us to the King." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +PLACENTIA + + +The river-front of Greenwich House was a magnificent sight as the four +men came up to it one morning nearly three weeks later. The long +two-storied row of brick buildings which Henry had named Placentia, with +their lines of windows broken by the two clusters of slender towers, and +porticos beneath, were fronted by broad platforms and a strip of turf +with steps leading down to the water, and at each of these entrances +there continually moved brilliant figures, sentries with the sunlight +flashing on their steel caps and pike-points, servants in the royal +livery, watermen in their blue and badges. + +Here and there at the foot of the steps rocked gaudy barges, a mass of +gilding and colour, with broad low canopies at the stern, and flags +drooping at the prow; wherries moved to and fro, like water-beetles, +shooting across from bank to bank with passengers, above and below the +palace, or pausing with uplifted oars as the stream swept them down, for +the visitors to stare and marvel at the great buildings. Behind rose up +the green masses of trees against the sloping park. And over all lay the +July sky, solemn flakes of cloud drifting across a field of intense +blue. + +There had been a delay in the fulfilment of the Archbishop's promise; at +one time he himself was away in the country on affairs, at another time +the King was too much pressed, Cranmer reported, to have such a matter +brought before him; and then suddenly a messenger had come across from +Lambeth with a letter, bidding them present themselves at Greenwich on +the following morning; for the day following that had been fixed for +Cromwell's execution, and the Archbishop hoped that the King would be +ready to hear a word on behalf of the agent whose loyalty had failed to +save his master. + + * * * * * + +The boatman suddenly backed water with his left-hand oar, took a stroke +or two with his right, glancing over his shoulder; and the boat slid up +to the foot of the steps. + +A couple of watermen were already waiting there, in the Archbishop's +livery, and steadied the boat for the four gentlemen to step out; and a +moment later the four were standing on the platform, looking about them. + +They were at one of the smaller entrances to the palace, up-stream. A +hundred yards further down was the royal entrance, canopied and +carpeted, with the King's barge rocking at the foot, a number of +servants coming and going on the platform, and the great state windows +overlooking all; but here they were in comparative quiet. A small +doorway with its buff and steel-clad sentry before it opened on their +right into the interior of the palace. + +One of the watermen saluted the party. + +"Master Torridon?" he said. + +Chris assented. + +"My Lord bade me take you through to him, sir, as soon as you arrived." + +He went before them to the door, said a word to the guard, and then the +party passed on through the little entrance-hall into the interior. The +corridor was plainly and severely furnished with matting under-foot, +chairs here and there set along the wainscot, pieces of stuff with +crossed pikes between hanging on the walls; through the bow windows +they caught a glimpse now and again of a little court or two, a +shrubbery and a piece of lawn, and once a vista of the park where Henry +in his younger days used to hold his May-revels, a gallant and princely +figure all in green from cap to shoes, breakfasting beneath the trees. + +Continually, as they went, first in the corridor and then through the +waiting rooms at the end, they passed others going to and fro, servants +hurrying on messages, leisurely and magnificent persons with their hats +on, pages standing outside closed doors; and twice they were asked their +business. + +"For my Lord of Canterbury," answered the waterman each time. + +It seemed to Chris that they must have gone an immense distance before +the waterman at last stopped, motioning them to go on, and a page in +purple livery stepped forward from a door. + +"For my Lord of Canterbury," said the waterman for the last time. + +The page bowed, turned, and threw open the door. + +They found themselves in a square parlour, carpeted and hung with +tapestries from floor to ceiling. A second door opened beyond, in the +window side, into another room. A round table stood in the centre, with +brocaded chairs about it, and a long couch by the fireplace. Opposite +rose up the tall windows through which shone the bright river with the +trees and buildings on the north bank beyond. + +They had hardly spoken a word to one another since they had left +Charing, for all that was possible had been said during the weeks of +waiting for the Archbishop's summons. + +Cranmer had received them kindly, though he had not committed himself +beyond promising to introduce them to the King, and had expressed no +opinion on the case. + +He had listened to them courteously, had nodded quietly as Chris +explained what it was that Ralph had done, and then almost without +comment had given his promise. It seemed as if the Archbishop could not +even form an opinion, and still less express one, until he had heard +what his Highness had to say. + + * * * * * + +Chris walked to the window and the lawyer followed him. + +"Placentia!" said Mr. Herries, "I do not wonder at it. It is even more +pleasing from within." + +He stood, a prim, black figure, looking out at the glorious view, the +shining waterway studded with spots of colour, the long bank of the +river opposite, and the spires of London city lying in a blue heat-haze +far away to the left. + +Chris stared at it too, but with unseeing eyes. It seemed as if all +power of sensation had left him. The suspense of the last weeks had +corroded the surfaces of his soul, and the intensity to which it was now +rising seemed to have paralysed what was left. He found himself +picturing the little house at Charing where Beatrice was waiting, and, +he knew, praying; and he reminded himself that the next time he saw her +he would know all, whether death or life was to be Ralph's sentence. The +solemn quiet and the air of rich and comfortable tranquillity which the +palace wore, and which had impressed itself on his mind even in the +hundred yards he had walked in it, gave him an added sense of what it +was that lay over his brother, the huge passionless forces with which he +had become entangled. + +Then he turned round. His father was sitting at the table, his head on +his hand; and Nicholas was staring round the grave room with the +solemnity of a child, looking strangely rustic and out of place in these +surroundings. + +It was very quiet as Chris leaned against the window-shutter, in his +secular habit, with his hands clasped behind his back, and looked. Once +a footstep passed in the corridor outside, and the floor vibrated +slightly to the tread; once a horn blew somewhere far away; and from the +river now and again came the cry of a waterman, or the throb of oars in +rowlocks. + +Sir James looked up once, opened his lips as if to speak; and then +dropped his head on to his hand again. + +The waiting seemed interminable. + +Chris turned round to the window once more, slipped his breviary out of +his pocket, and opened it. He made the sign of the cross and began-- + +_"In nomine Patris et Filii...."_ + +Then the second door opened; he turned back abruptly; there was a rustle +of silk, and the Archbishop came through in his habit and gown. + +Chris bowed slightly as the prelate went past him briskly towards the +table where Sir James was now standing up, and searched his features +eagerly for an omen. There was nothing to be read there; his smooth +large-eyed face was smiling quietly as its manner was, and his wide lips +were slightly parted. + +"Good-day, Master Torridon; you are in good time. I am just come from +His Highness, and will take you to him directly." + +Chris saw his father's face blanch a little as he bowed in return. +Nicholas merely stared. + +"But we have a few minutes," went on the Archbishop. "Sir Thomas +Wriothesly is with him. Tell me again sir, what you wish me to say." + +Sir James looked hesitatingly to the lawyer. + +"Mr. Herries," he said. + +Cranmer turned round, and again made that little half-deprecating bow to +the priest and the lawyer. Mr. Herries stepped forward as Cranmer sat +down, clasping his hands so that the great amethyst showed on his +slender finger. + +"It is this, my Lord," he said, "it is as we told your Lordship at +Lambeth. This gentleman desires the King's clemency towards Mr. Ralph +Torridon, now in the Tower. Mr. Torridon has served--er--Mr. Cromwell +very faithfully. We wish to make no secret of that. He destroyed certain +private papers--though that cannot be proved against him, and you will +remember that we were doubtful whether his Highness should be informed +of that--" + +Sir James broke in suddenly. + +"I have been thinking of that, my Lord. I would sooner that the King's +Grace knew everything. I have no wish that that should be kept from +him." + +The Archbishop who had been looking with smiling attention from one to +the other, now himself broke in. + +"I am glad you think that, sir. I think so myself. Though it cannot be +proved as you say, it is far best that His Grace should know all. Indeed +I think I should have told him in any case." + +"Then, my Lord, if you think well," went on Mr. Herries, "you might lay +before his Grace that this is a free and open confession. Mr. Torridon +did burn papers, and important ones; but they would not have served +anything. Master Cromwell was cast without them." + +"But Mr. Torridon did not know that?" questioned the Archbishop blandly. + +"Yes, my Lord," cried Sir James, "he must have known--that my Lord +Cromwell--" + +The Archbishop lifted his hand delicately. + +"Master Cromwell," he corrected. + +"Master Cromwell," went on the old man, "he must have known that Mr. +Cromwell had others, more important, that would be certainly found and +used against him." + +"Then why did he burn them? You understand, sir, that I only wish to +know what I have to say to his Grace." + +"He burned them, my Lord, because he could not bear that his hand should +be lifted against his master. Surely that is but loyal and good!" + +The Archbishop nodded quietly three or four times. + +"And you desire that his Grace will take order to have Mr. Torridon +released?" + +"That is it, my Lord," said the lawyer. + +"Yes, I understand. And can you give any pledge for Mr. Torridon's good +behaviour?" + +"He has served Mr. Cromwell," answered the lawyer, "very well for many +years. He has been with him in the matter of the Religious Houses; he +was one of the King's Visitors, and assisted in the--the destruction of +Lewes priory; and that, my Lord, is a sufficient--" + +Sir James gave a sudden sob. + +"Mr. Herries, Mr. Herries--" + +Cranmer turned to him smiling. + +"I know what you feel, sir," he said. "But if this is true--" + +"Why, it is true! God help him," cried the old man. + +"Then that is what we need, sir; as you said just now. Yes, Mr. +Herries?" + +The lawyer glanced at the old man again. + +"That is sufficient guarantee, my Lord, that Mr. Ralph Torridon is no +enemy of his Grace's projects." + +"I cannot bear that!" cried Sir James. + +Nicholas, who had been looking awed and open-mouthed from one to the +other, took him by the arm. + +"You must, father," he said. "It--it is devilish; but it is true. Chris, +have you nothing?" + +The monk came forward a step. + +"It is true, my Lord," he said. "I was a monk of Lewes myself." + +"And you have conformed," put in the Archbishop swiftly. + +"I am living at home peaceably," said Chris; "it is true that my brother +did all this, but--but my father wishes that it should not be used in +his cause." + +"If it is true," said the Archbishop, "it is best to say it. We want +nothing but the bare truth." + +"But I cannot bear it," cried the old man again. + +Chris came round behind the Archbishop to his father. + +"Will you leave it, father, to my Lord Archbishop? My Lord understands +what we think." + +Sir James looked at him, dazed and bewildered. + +"God help us! Do you think so, Chris." + +"I think so, father. My Lord, you understand all?" + +The Archbishop bowed again slightly. + +"Then, my Lord, we will leave it all in your hands." + +There was a tap at the door. + +The Archbishop rose. + +"That is our signal," he said. "Come, gentlemen, his Grace will be ready +immediately." + +Mr. Herries sprang to the door and opened it, bowing as the Archbishop +went through, followed by Sir James and Nicholas. He and Chris followed +after. + + * * * * * + +There was a kind of dull recklessness in the monk's heart as he went +through. He knew that he was in more peril than any of the others, and +yet he did not fear it. The faculty of fear had been blunted, not +sharpened, by his experiences; and he passed on towards the King's +presence, almost without a tremor. + +The room was empty, except for a page by the further door, who opened it +as the party advanced; and beyond was a wide lobby, with doors all +round, and a staircase on the right as they came out. The Archbishop +made a little motion to the others as he went up, gathering his skirts +about him, and acknowledging with his disengaged hand the salute of the +sentry that stood in the lobby. + +At the top of the stairs was a broad landing; then a corridor through +which they passed, and on. They turned to the left, and as they went it +was apparent that they were near the royal apartments. There were thick +leather rugs lying here and there; along the walls stood magnificent +pieces of furniture, inlaid tables with tall dragon-jars upon them, +suits of Venetian armour elaborately worked in silver, and at the door +of every room that opened on the corridor there was standing a sentry or +a servant, who straightened themselves at the sight of the Archbishop. +He carefully acknowledged each salutation, and nodded kindly once or +twice. + +There was a heavy odour in the air, warm and fragrant, as of mingled +stuffs and musk, which even the wide windows set open towards the garden +on the right hand did not wholly obliterate. + +For the first time since leaving Charing, Chris's heart quickened. The +slow stages of approach to the formidable presence had begun to do their +work; if he had seen the King at once he would not have been moved; if +he had had an hour longer, he would have recovered from his emotion; but +this swift ordered approach, the suggestiveness of the thick carpets +and furniture, the sight of the silent figures waiting, the musky smell +in the air, all combined now to work upon him; he began to fancy that he +was drawing nearer the presence of some great carrion-beast that had +made its den here, that was guarded by these discreet servitors, and to +which this smooth prelate, in the rle of the principal keeper, was +guiding him. Any of these before him might mark the sanctuary of the +labyrinth, where the creature lurked; one might open, and a savage face +look out, dripping blood and slaver. + +A page threw back a door at last, and they passed through; but again +there was a check. It was but one more waiting room. The dozen persons, +folks of all sorts, a lawyer, a soldier, and others stood up and bowed +to the prelate. + +Then the party sat down near the further door in dead silence, and the +minutes began to pass. + +There were cries from the river once or twice as they waited; once a +footstep vibrated through the door, and twice a murmur of voices sounded +and died again. + +Then suddenly a hand was laid on the handle from the other side, and the +Archbishop rose, with Sir James beside him. + +There was still a pause. Then a voice sounded loud and near, and there +was a general movement in the room as all rose to their feet. The door +swung open and the Garter King-at-Arms came through, bland and smiling, +his puffed silk sleeves brushing against the doorpost as he passed. A +face like a mask, smooth and expressionless, followed him, and nodded to +the Archbishop. + +Cranmer turned slightly to his party, again made that little movement, +and went straight through. + +Chris followed with Mr. Herries. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE KING'S HIGHNESS + + +As Chris knelt with the others, and the door closed behind him, he was +aware of a great room with a tall window looking on to the river on his +left, tapestry-hung walls, a broad table heaped with papers in the +centre, a high beamed ceiling, and the thick carpet under his knees. + +For a moment he did not see the King. The page who had beckoned them in +had passed across the room, and Chris's eyes followed him out through an +inner door in the corner. + +Then, still on his knees, he turned his eyes to see the Archbishop going +towards the window, and up the step that led on to the dais that +occupied the floor of the oriel. + +Then he saw the King. + + * * * * * + +A great figure was seated opposite the side door at which they had +entered on the broad seat that ran round the three sides of the window. +The puffed sleeves made the shoulders look enormous; a gold chain lay +across them, with which the gross fingers were playing. Beneath, the +vast stomach swelled out into the slashed trunks, and the scarlet legs +were crossed one over the other. On the head lay a broad plumed velvet +cap, and beneath it was the wide square face, at once jovial and solemn, +with the narrow slits of eyes above, and the little pursed mouth fringed +by reddish hair below, that Chris remembered in the barge years before. +The smell of musk lay heavy in the air. + +Here was the monstrous carrion-beast then at last, sunning himself and +waiting. + + * * * * * + +So the party rested a moment or two, while the Archbishop went across to +the dais; he knelt again and then stood up and said a word or two +rapidly that Chris could not hear. + +Henry nodded, and turned his bright narrow eyes on to them; and then +made a motion with his hand. The Archbishop turned round and repeated +the gesture; and Chris rose in his place as did the others. + +"Master Torridon, your Grace," explained the Archbishop, with a +deferential stoop of his shoulders. "Your Grace will remember--" + +The King nodded abruptly, and thrust his hand out. + +Chris touched his father behind. + +"Go forward," he whispered; "kiss hands." + +The old man went forward a hesitating step or two. The Archbishop +motioned sharply, and Sir James advanced again up to the dais, sank +down, and lifted the hand to his lips, and fell back for the others. + +When Chris's turn came, and he lifted the heavy fingers, he noticed for +a moment a wonderful red stone on the thumb, and recognised it. It was +the Regal of France that he had seen years before at his visit to St. +Thomas's shrine at Canterbury. In a flash, too, he remembered Cromwell's +crest as he had seen it on the papers at Lewes--the demi-lion holding up +the red-gemmed ring. + +Then he too had fallen back, and the Archbishop was speaking. + +"Your Grace will remember that there is a Mr. Ralph Torridon in the +Tower--an agent of Mr. Cromwell's--" + +The King's face moved slightly, but he said nothing. + +--"Who is awaiting trial for destroying evidence. It is that, at least, +your Grace, that is asserted against him. But it has not been proved. +Master Torridon here tells me, your Highness, that it cannot be proved, +but that he wishes to acknowledge it freely on his son's behalf." + +Henry's eyes shot back again at the old man, ran over the others, and +settled again on Cranmer's face, who was standing beside him with his +back to the window. + +"He is here to plead for your Grace's clemency. He wishes to lay before +your Grace that his son erred through over-faithfulness to Mr. +Cromwell's cause; and above all that the evidence so destroyed has not +affected the course of justice--" + +"God's Body!" jarred in the harsh voice suddenly, "it has not. Nor shall +it." + +Cranmer waited a moment with downcast eyes; but the King was silent +again. + +"Master Torridon has persuaded me to come with him to your Grace to +speak for him. He is not accustomed--" + +"And who are these fellows?" + +Chris felt those keen eyes running over him. + +"This is Master Nicholas Maxwell," explained the Archbishop, indicating +him. "Master Torridon's son-in-law; and this, Mr. Herries--" + +"And the priest?" asked the King. + +"The priest is Sir Christopher Torridon, living with his father at +Overfield." + +"Ha! has he always lived there then?" + +"No, your Grace," said Cranmer smoothly, "he was a monk at Lewes until +the dissolution of the house." + +"I have heard somewhat of his name," mused Henry. "What is it, sir, that +I have beard of you?" + +"It was perhaps Mr. Ralph Torridon's name that your Grace--" began +Cranmer. + +"Nay, nay, it was not. What was it, sir?" + +Chris's heart was beating in his ears like a drum now. It had come, +then, that peril that had always been brooding on the horizon, and which +he had begun to despise. He had thought that there could be no danger in +his going to the King; it was so long since Lewes had fallen, and his +own part had been so small. But his Grace's memory was good, it seemed! +Danger was close to him, incarnate in that overwhelming presence. He +said nothing, but stood awaiting detection. + +"It is strange," said Henry. "I have forgot. Well, my Lord?" + +"I have told your Grace all," explained the Archbishop. "Mr. Ralph +Torridon has not yet been brought to trial, and his father hopes that +your Grace will take into consideration these two things: that it was a +mistake of over-faithfulness that his son committed; and that it has not +hindered the course of justice." + +"Well, well," said Henry, "and that sounds to be in reason. We have none +too much of either faithfulness or justice in these days. And there is +no other charge against the fellow?" + +"There is no other charge, your Grace." + +There fell a complete silence for a moment or two. + +Chris glanced up at his father, his own heart uplifted by hope, and saw +the old man's face trembling with it too. The wrinkled eyes were full of +tears, and his lips quivered; and Chris could feel the short cloak that +hung against him shaking at his hand. Nicholas's crimson face showed a +mingling of such emotion and solemnity that Chris was seized with an +internal hysterical spasm; but it suddenly died within him as he +brought his eyes round, and saw that the King was staring at him +moodily.... + +The Archbishop's voice broke in again. + +"Are we to understand, your Grace, that your Grace's clemency is +extended to Mr. Ralph Torridon?" + +"Eh! then," said the King peevishly, "hold your tongue, my Lord. I am +trying to remember. Where is Michael?" + +"Shall I call him, your Grace?" + +"Nay, then; let the lawyer ring the bell!" + +Mr. Herries sprang to the table at the King's gesture, and struck the +little hand-bell that stood there. The door where the page had +disappeared five minutes before opened silently, and the servant stood +there. + +"Michael," said the King, and the page vanished. + +There was an uncomfortable silence. Cranmer stood back a little with an +air of patient deference, and his quick eyes glanced up now and again at +the party before him. There was a certain uneasiness in his manner, as +Chris could see; but the monk presently dropped his eyes again, as he +saw that the King was once more looking at him keenly, with tight pursed +lips, and a puzzled look on his forehead. + +The thoughts began to race through Chris's brain. He found himself +praying with desperate speed that Michael, whoever he was, might not +know; and that the King might not remember; and meanwhile through +another part of his being ran the thought of the irony of his situation. +Here he was, come to plead for his brother's life, and on the brink of +having to plead for his own. The quiet room increased his sense of the +irony. It seemed so safe and strong and comfortable, up here in the rich +room, with the tall window looking on to the sunlit river, in a palace +girt about with guards; and yet the very security of it was his danger. +He had penetrated into the stronghold of the great beast that ruled +England: he was within striking distance of those red-stained claws and +teeth. + +Then suddenly the creature stirred and snarled. + +"I know it now, sir. You were one of the knaves that would not sign the +surrender of Lewes." + +Chris lifted his eyes and dropped them again. + +"God's Body," said the King, "and you come here!" + +Again there was silence. + +Chris saw his father half turn towards him with a piteous face, and +perceived that the lawyer had drawn a little away. + +The King turned abruptly to Cranmer. + +"Did you know this, my Lord?" + +"Before God, I did not!"--but his voice shook as he answered. + +Chris was gripping his courage, and at last spoke. + +"We were told it was a free-will act, your Grace." + +Henry said nothing to this. His eyes were rolling up and down the monk's +figure, with tight, thoughtful lips. Cranmer looked desperately at Sir +James. + +"I did not know that, your Grace," he said again. "I only knew that this +priest's brother had been very active in your Grace's business." + +Henry turned sharply. + +"Eh?" he said. + +Sir James's hands rose and clasped themselves instinctively. Cranmer +again looked at him almost fiercely. + +"Mr. Ralph Torridon was one of the Visitors," explained the Archbishop +nervously. + +"And this fellow a monk!" cried the King. + +"They must have met at Lewes, your Grace." + +"Ah! my Lord," cried Sir James suddenly. "I entreated you--" + +Henry turned on him suddenly. + +"Tell us the tale, sir. What is all this?" + +Sir James took a faltering step forward, and then suddenly threw out his +hands. + +"Ah! your Grace, it is a bitter tale for a father to tell. It is true, +all of it. My son here was a monk at Lewes. He would not sign the +surrender. I--I approved him for it. I--I was there when my son Ralph +cast him out--" + +"God's blood!" cried the King with a beaming face. "The one brother cast +the other out!" + +Chris saw the Archbishop's face suddenly lighten as he watched the King +sideways. + +"But I cannot bear that he should be saved for that!" went on the old +man piteously. "He was a good servant to your Grace, but a bad one to +our Lord--" + +The Archbishop drew a swift breath of horror, and his hands jerked. But +Henry seemed not to hear; his little mouth had opened in a round hole of +amazed laughter, and he was staring at the old man without hearing him. + +"And you were there?" he said. "And your wife? And your aunts and +sisters?" + +"My wife is dead," cried the old man. "Your Grace--" + +"And on which side was she?" + +"She was--was on your Grace's side." + +Henry threw himself back in his chair. + + * * * * * + +For one moment Chris did not know whether it was wrath or laughter that +shook him. His face grew crimson, and his narrow eyes disappeared into +shining slits; his fat hands were on his knees, and his great body +shook. From his round open mouth came silent gusts of quick breath, and +he began to sway a little from side to side. + +Across the Archbishop's face came a deferential and sympathetic smile, +and he looked quickly and nervously from the King to the group and back +again. Sir James had fallen back a pace at the King's laughter, and +stood rigid and staring. Chris took a step close to him and gripped his +hand firmly. + +There was a footstep behind, and the King leaned forward again, wiping +the tears away with his sleeve. + +"Oh, Michael, Michael!" he sobbed, "here is a fine tale." + +A dark-dressed man stepped forward from behind, and stood expectant. + +"God! What a happy family!" said the King. "And this fellow here?" + +He motioned towards Nicholas, with a feeble gesture. He was still weak +with laughter. + +The young squire moved forward a step, rigid and indignant. + +"I am against your Grace," he said sharply. + +Henry grew suddenly grave. + +"Eh! that is no way to speak," he said. + +"It is the only way I can speak," said Nicholas, "if your Grace desires +the truth." + +The King looked at him a moment; but the humour still shone in his eyes. + +"Well, well. It is the truth I want. Michael, I sent for you to know +about the priest here; but I know now. And is it true that his brother +in the Tower--Ralph Torridon--was one of the Visitors?" + +The man pursed his lips a moment. He was standing close to Chris, a +little in front of him. + +"Yes, your Majesty." + +"Oh! well. We must let him out, I suppose--if there is nothing more +against him. You shall tell me presently, Michael." + +The Archbishop looked swiftly across at the party. + +"Then your Grace extends--" + +"Well, Michael, what is it?" interrupted the King. + +"It is a matter your Majesty might wish to hear in private," said the +stranger. + +"Oh, step aside, my Lord. And you, gentlemen." + +The King motioned down to the further end of the room, as Michael came +forward. + +The Archbishop stepped off the low platform, and led the way down the +floor; and the others followed. + + * * * * * + +Chris was in a whirl of bewilderment. He could see the King's great face +interested and attentive as the secretary said something in his ear, and +then suddenly light up with amusement again. + +"Not a word, not a word," whispered Henry harshly. "Very good, Michael." + +The secretary then whispered once more. Chris could hear the sharp +sibilants, but no word. The King nodded once more, and the man stepped +down off the dais. + +"Prepare the admission, then," said the King after him. + +The secretary bowed as he turned and went out of the room once more. + +Henry beckoned. + +"Come, gentlemen." + +He watched them with a solemn joviality as they came up, the Archbishop +in front, the father and son together, and the two others behind. + +"You are a sad crew," began the King, eyeing them pleasantly, and +sitting forward with a hand on either knee, "and I am astonished, my +Lord of Canterbury, at your companying with them. But we will have +mercy, and remember your son's services, Master Torridon, in the past. +That alone will excuse him. Remember that. That alone. He is the +stronger man, if he turned out the priest there. And I remember your son +very well, too; and will forgive him. But I shall not employ him again. +And his forgiveness shall cover yours, Master Priest; but you must be +off--you must be off, sir," he barked suddenly, "out of these realms in +a week. We will have no more treason from you." + +The fierce overpowering personality flared out as he spoke, and Chris +felt his heart beat sick at the force of it. + +"And you two gentlemen," went on the King, still smouldering, "you two +had best hold your tongues. We will not hear such talk in our presence +or out of it. But we will excuse it now. There, sir, have I said +enough?" + +Sir James dropped abruptly on his knees. + +"Oh! God bless your Grace!" he began, with the tears running down. + +Henry made an abrupt gesture. + +"You shall go to your son," he said, "and see how he fares, and tell him +this. And she shall have the order of release presently, from me or +another." + +Again the little mouth creased and twitched with amusement. + +"And I hope he will be happy with his mother. You may tell him that from +me." + +The Archbishop looked up. + +"Mistress Torridon is dead, your Grace," he said softly and +questioningly. + +"Oh, well," said the King; and thrust out his hand to be kissed. + + * * * * * + +Chris did not know how they got out of the room. They kissed hands +again; the old man muttered out his thanks; but he seemed bewildered by +the rush of events, and the supreme surprise. Chris, as he backed away +from the presence, saw for the last time those narrow royal eyes fixed +on him, still bright with amusement and expectancy, and the great +red-fringed cheeks creased about the tiny mouth with an effort to keep +back laughter. Why was the King laughing, he wondered? + +They waited a few minutes in the ante-room for the order that the +Archbishop had whispered to them should be sent out immediately. They +said nothing to one another--but the three sat close, looking into one +another's eyes now and again in astonishment and joy, while Mr. Herries +stood a little apart solemn and happy at the importance of the rle he +had played in the whole affair, and disdaining even to look at the rest +of the company who sat on chairs and watched the party. + +The secretary came to them in a few minutes, and handed them the order. + +"My Lord of Canterbury is detained," he said; "he bade me tell you +gentlemen that he could not see you again." + +Sir James was standing up and examining the order. + +"For four?" he said. + +"Why, yes," said the secretary, and glanced at the four men. + +Chris put his hand on his father's arm. + +"It is all well," he whispered, "say nothing more. It will do for +Beatrice." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE TIDINGS AT THE TOWER + + +They debated as they stood on the steps in the sunlight five minutes +later, as to whether they should go straight to the Tower, or back to +Charing and take Beatrice with them. They spoke softly to one another, +as men that have come out from darkness to light, bewildered by the +sense of freedom and freshness that lay round them. Instead of the +musk-scented rooms, the formidable dominating presence, the suspense and +the terror, the river laughed before them, the fresh summer breeze blew +up it, and above all Ralph was free, and that, not only of his prison, +but of his hateful work. It had all been done in those few sentences; +but as yet they could not realise it; and they regarded it, as they +regarded the ripples at their feet, the lapping wherry, and far-off +London city, as a kind of dazzling picture which would by and bye be +found to move and live. + +The lawyer congratulated them, and they smiled back and thanked him. + +"If you will put me to shore at London Bridge," said Mr. Herries--"I +have a little business I might do there--that is, if you will be going +so far." + +Chris looked at his father, whose arm he was holding. + +"We must take her with us," he said. "She has earned it." + +Sir James nodded, dreamily, and turned to the boat. + +"To the London Bridge Stairs first," he said. + + * * * * * + +There was a kind of piquant joy in their hearts as they crept up past +the Tower, and saw its mighty walls and guns across the water. He was +there, but it was not for long. They would see him that day, and +to-morrow--to-morrow at the latest, they would all leave it together. + +There were a hundred plans in the old man's mind, as he leaned gently +forward and back to the motion of the boat and stared at the bright +water. Ralph and he should live at Overfield again; his son would surely +be changed by all that had come to him, and above all by his own +response to the demands of loyalty. They should learn to understand one +another better now--better than ever before. The hateful life lay behind +them of distrust and contempt; Ralph would come back to his old self, +and be again as he had been ten years back before he had been dazzled +and drugged by the man who was to die next day. Then he thought of that +man, and half-pitied him even then; those strong walls held nothing but +terror for him--terror and despair; the scaffold was already going up on +Tower Hill--and as the old man thought of it he leaned forward and tried +to see over the wharf and under the trees where the rising ground lay; +but there was nothing to be seen--the foliage hid it. + +Chris, also silent beside him, was full of thoughts. He would go abroad +now, he knew, with Margaret, as they had intended. The King's order was +the last sign of God's intention for him. He would place Margaret with +her own sisters at Bruges, and then himself go on to Dom Anthony and +take up the life again. He knew he would meet some of his old brethren +in Religion--Dom Anthony had written to say that three or four had +already joined him at Cluny; the Prior--he knew--had turned his back for +ever on the monastic life, and had been put into a prebendal stall at +Lincoln. + +And meanwhile he would have the joy of knowing that Ralph was free of +his hateful business; the King would not employ him again; he would live +at home now, and rule Overfield well: he and his father together. Ah! +and what if Beatrice consented to rule it with him! Surely now--He +turned and looked at his father as he thought of it, and their eyes met. + +Chris leaned a little closer. + +"Beatrice!" he said. "What if she--?" + +The old man nodded tenderly, and his drawn eyes shone in his face. + +"Oh! Chris--I was thinking that--" + +Then Nicholas came out of his maze. + +Ever since his entrance into the palace, except when he had flared out +at the King, he had moved and stood and sat in a solemn bewilderment. +The effect of the changed atmosphere had been to paralyse his simple and +sturdy faculties; and his face had grown unintelligent during the +process. More than once Chris had been seized with internal laughter, in +spite of the tragedy; the rustic squire was so strangely incongruous +with the situation. But he awoke now. + +"God bless me!" he said wonderingly. "It is all over and done. God--" + +Chris gave a short yelp of laughter. + +"Dear Nick," he said, "yes. God bless you indeed! You spoke up well!" + +"Did I do right, sir," said the other to Sir James, "I could not help +it. I--" + +"Oh! Nick," said the old man, and leaned forward and put his hand on his +knee. + +Nicholas preened himself as he sat there; he would tell Mary how he had +bearded his Majesty, and what a diplomatist was her husband. + +"You did very well, sir," put in Mr. Herries ironically. "You terrified +his Grace, I think." + +Chris glanced at the lawyer; but Nicholas took it all with the greatest +complacency; tilted his hilt a little forward, smoothed his doublet, and +sat smiling and well-pleased. + +They reached the Stairs presently and put Mr. Herries ashore. + +"I will be at your house to-morrow, sir," he said, "when you go to take +Mr. Ralph out of prison. The order will be there by the morning, I make +no doubt." + +He bowed and smiled and moved off, a stiff figure deliberately picking +its way up the oozy steps to the crowded street overhead. + + * * * * * + +Beatrice's face was at the window as they came up the tide half-an-hour +later. Chris stood up in the wherry, when he saw it, and waved his cap +furiously, and the face disappeared. + +She was at the landing stage before they reached it, a slender brilliant +figure in her hood and mantle, with her aunt beside her. Chris stood up +again and cried between his hands across the narrowing space that all +was well; and her face was radiant as the boat slipped up to the side, +and balanced there with the boatman's hand on the stone edging. + +"It is all well," said Chris again as he stood by her a moment later. +"He is to go free, and we are to tell him." + +He dared not look at her; but he was aware that she stood very still and +rigid, and that her eyes were on his father's. + +"Oh! Mistress Beatrice--" + +Chris began to understand it all a little better, a few minutes later, +as the boat was once again on its way downstream. He and Nicholas had +moved to the bows of the wherry, and the girl and the old man sat alone +in the stern. + +They were all very silent at first; Chris leaned on his elbow and stared +out at the sliding banks, the trees on this side and that, the great +houses with their high roofs and towers behind, and their stone steps in +front, the brilliant glare on the water, the hundreds of boats--great +barges flashing jewels from their dozen blades, spidery wherries making +this way and that; and his mind was busy weaving pictures. He saw it all +now; there had been that in Beatrice's face during the moment he had +looked at her, that was more than sympathy. In the shock of that great +joy the veils had fallen, and her soul had looked out through her black +tearful eyes. + +There was little doubt now as to what would happen. It was not for their +sake alone, or for Ralph's, that she had looked like that; she had not +said one word, but he knew what was unspoken. + +As they passed under London Bridge he turned a little and looked across +the boatmen's shoulder at the two as they sat there in the stern, and +what he saw confirmed him. The old man had flung an arm along the back +of the seat, and was leaning a little forward, talking in a low voice, +his face showing indeed the lines and wrinkles that had deepened more +than ever during these last weeks, but irradiated with an extraordinary +joy. And the girl was beside him, smiling with downcast eyes, turning a +quick look now and again as she sat there. Chris could see her scarlet +lips trembling, and her hands clasped on her knee, shifting a little now +and again as she listened. It was a strange wooing; the father courting +for the son, and the woman answering the son through the father; and +Chris understood what was the answer that she was giving. + +Nicholas was watching it too; and presently the two in the stern looked +up suddenly; first Beatrice and then Sir James, and their eyes flashed +joy across and across as the four souls met. + + * * * * * + +Five minutes later again they were at the Tower Stairs. + +Mr. Morris, who had been sent on by Mistress Jane Atherton when she had +heard the news, was there holding his horse by the bridle; and behind +him had collected a little crowd of idlers. He gave the bridle to one of +them, and came down the steps to help them out of the boat. + +"You have heard?" said Chris as he stepped out last. + +"Yes, father," said the servant. + +Chris looked at him; and his mask-like face too seemed strangely lighted +up. There was still across his cheek the shadow of a mark as of an old +whip-cut. + +As they passed up the steps they became aware that the little crowd that +had waited at the top was only the detached fringe of a multitude that +had assembled further up the slope. It stretched under the trees as far +as they could see to right and left, from the outer wall of the Tower on +the one side, to where the rising ground on the left was hidden under +the thick foliage in the foreground. There was a murmur of talking and +laughter, the ringing of hand-bells, the cracking of whips and the cries +of children. The backs of the crowd were turned to the steps: there was +plainly something going on higher up the slope, and it seemed somewhat +away to the left. + +For a moment Chris did not understand, and he turned to Morris. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"The scaffold," said the servant tersely. + +At the same moment high above the murmur of the crowd came the sound of +heavy resounding blows, as of wood on wood. + +Then Chris remembered; and for one moment he sickened as he walked. His +father turned and looked over his shoulder as he went with Beatrice in +front, and his eyes were eloquent. + +"I had forgotten," said Chris softly. "God help him!" + + * * * * * + +They turned in towards the right almost immediately to the low outer +gate of the fortress; and those for the first time remembered that the +order they carried was for four only. + +Nicholas instantly offered to wait outside and let Morris go in. Morris +flatly refused. There was a short consultation, and then Nicholas went +up to the sentry on guard with the order in his hand. + +The man looked at it, glanced at the party, and then turned and knocked +with his halberd on the great door behind, and in a minute or two an +officer came out in his buff and feathers. He took the order and ran his +eyes over it. + +Nicholas explained. + +The officer looked at him a moment without answering. + +"And the lady too?" he said. + +"Why, yes," said Nicholas. + +"The lady wishes--" then he broke off. "You will have to see the +Lieutenant," he went on. "I can let you all through to his lodgings." + +They passed in with a yeoman to conduct them under the low heavy +vaulting and through to the open way beyond. On their right was the wall +between them and the river, and on their left the enormous towers and +battlements of the inner court. + +Chris walked with Morris behind, remembering the last time he was here +with the Prior all those years before. They had walked silently then, +too, but for another reason. + +They passed the low Traitor's Gate on their right; Chris glanced at the +green lapping water beneath it as he went--Ralph had landed there--and +turned up the steep slope to the left under the gateway of the inner +court; and in a minute or two more were at the door of the Lieutenant's +lodgings. + +There seemed a strange suggestiveness in the silence and order of the +wide ward that lay before them. The great White Tower dominated the +whole place on the further side, huge and menacing, pierced by its +narrow windows set at wide intervals; on the left, the row of towers +used as prisons diminished in perspective down to where the wall turned +at right angles and ran in behind the keep; and the great space enclosed +by the whole was almost empty. There were soldiers on guard here and +there at the doorways; a servant hurried across the wide sunlit ground, +and once, as they waited, a doctor in his short gown came out of one +door and disappeared into another. + +And here they waited for an answer to their summons, silent and happy in +their knowledge. The place held no terrors for them. + +The soldier knocked again impatiently, and again stood aside. + +Chris saw Nicholas sidle up to the man with something of the same awe on +his face that had been there an hour ago. + +"My Lord--Master Cromwell?" he heard him whisper, correcting himself. + +The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder. + +"There," he said. + +There were three soldiers, Chris noticed, standing at the foot of one of +the Towers a little distance off. It was there, then, that Thomas +Cromwell, wool-carder, waited for death, hearing, perhaps, from his +window the murmur of the crowd beyond the moat, and the blows of mallet +on wood as his scaffold went up. + +Then the door opened, and after a word or two the soldier motioned them +in. + + * * * * * + +Again they had to wait. + +The Lieutenant, they were told, had been called away. He was expected +back presently. + +They sat down, still in silence, in the little ground-floor parlour. It +was a pleasant little room, with a wide hearth, and two windows looking +on to the court. + +But the suspense was not like that of the morning. Now they knew how it +must end. There would be a few minutes more, long perhaps to Ralph, as +he sat in his cell somewhere not far from them, knowing nothing of the +pardon that was on its way; and then the door would open, where day by +day for the last six weeks the gaoler had come and gone; and the faces +he knew would be there, and it would be from their lips that he would +hear the message. + +The old man and the girl still sat together in the window-seat, silent +now like the others. They had had their explanations in the boat, and +each knew what was in the other's heart. Chris and Nicholas stood by the +hearth, Mr. Morris by the door; and there was not the tremor of a doubt +in any of them as to what the future held. + +Chris looked tranquilly round the room, at the little square table in +the centre, the four chairs drawn close to it, with their brocade +panels stained and well-worn showing at the back, the dark ceiling, the +piece of tapestry that hung over the side-table between the doors--it +was a martial scene, faded and discoloured, with ghostly bare-legged +knights on fat prancing horses all in inextricable conflict, a great +battleaxe stood out against the dusky foliage of an autumn tree; and a +stag with his fore feet in the air, ramped in the foreground, looking +over his shoulder. It was a ludicrously bad piece of work, picked up no +doubt by some former Lieutenant who knew more of military than artistic +matters, and had hung there--how long? Chris wondered. + +He found himself criticising it detail by detail, comparing it with his +own designs in the antiphonary; he had that antiphonary still at home; +he had carried it off from Lewes, when Ralph--Ralph!--had turned him +out. He had put it up into a parcel on the afternoon of the spoilers' +arrival. He would show it to Ralph again now--in a day or two at +Overfield; they would laugh over it together; and he would take it with +him abroad, and perhaps finish it there. God's work is not so easily +hindered after all. + +But all the while, the wandering stream of his thought was lighted and +penetrated by the radiant joy of his heart. It was all true, not a +dream! + +He glanced again at the two in the window-seat. + +His father was looking out of the lattice; but Beatrice raised her eyes +to his, and smiled at him. + +Sir James stood up. + +"The Lieutenant is coming," he said. + +A moment later there were steps in the flagged passage; and a murmur of +voices. The soldier who had brought them to the lodgings was waiting +there with the order of admission, and was no doubt explaining the +circumstances. + +Then the door opened suddenly; and a tall soldierly-looking man, +grey-haired and clean-shaven, in an officer's dress, stood there, with +the order in his hand, as the two in the window-seat rose to meet him. + +"Master Torridon," he said abruptly. + +Sir James stepped forward. + +"Yes, sir." + +"You have come to see Mr. Ralph Torridon whom we have here?" + +"Yes, sir--my son." + +Nicholas stepped forward, and the Lieutenant nodded at him. + +"Yes, sir," said the officer to him, "I could not admit you before--" he +stopped, as if embarrassed, and turned to Beatrice. + +"And this lady too?" + +"Yes, Master Lieutenant," said the old man. + +"But--but--I do not understand--" + +He looked at the radiant faces before him, and then dropped his eyes. + +"I suppose--you have not heard then?" + +Chris felt his heart leap, and then begin to throb furiously and +insistently. What had happened? Why did the man look like that? Why did +he not speak? + +The Lieutenant came a step forward and put his hand on the table. He was +looking strangely from face to face. + +Outside the court was very still. The footstep that had passed on the +flagstones a minute before had ceased; and there was no sound but the +chirp of a bird under the eaves. + +"You have not heard then?" said the Lieutenant again. + +"Oh! for God's sake--" cried the old man suddenly. + +"I have just come from your son," said the other steadily. "You are only +just in time. He is at the point of death." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE RELEASE + + +It was morning, and they still sat in Ralph's cell. + + * * * * * + +The attendant had brought in stools and a tall chair with a broken back, +and these were grouped round the low wooden bed; the old man in the +chair on one side, from where he could look down on his son's face, with +Beatrice beside him, Chris and Nicholas on the other side. Mr. Morris +was everywhere, sitting on a form by the door, in and out with food and +medicine, at his old master's bedside, lifting his pillow, turning him +in bed, holding his convulsive hands. + +He had been ill six days, the Lieutenant told them. The doctor who had +been called in from outside named the disease _phrenitis_. It was +certain that he would not recover; and a message to that effect had been +sent across on the morning before, with the usual reports to Greenwich. + +They had supped as they sat--silently--on what the gaoler brought; and +had slept by turns in the tall chair, wakening at a sound from the bed; +at the movement of the light across the floor as Morris slipped to and +fro noiselessly; at the chirp of the birds and the noises of the +stirring City as the daylight broadened on the wall, and the narrow +window grew bright and luminous. + +And now the morning was high, and they were waiting for the end. + + * * * * * + +A little table stood by the door, white-covered, with two candles, +guttering now in their sockets, and a tall crucifix, ivory and black, +lifting its arms in the midst. Before it stood two veiled vessels. + +"He will speak before he passes," the doctor had told them the evening +before; "I do not know whether he will be able to receive Viaticum." + + * * * * * + +Chris raised himself a little in his chair--he was stiff with leaning +elbows on knees; and he stretched out his feet softly; looking down +still at the bed. + +His brother lay with his back to him; the priest could see the black +hair, longer than Court fashion allowed now, the brown sinewy neck +beneath; and one arm outlined over his hip beneath the piled clothes. +The fingers were moving a little, contracting and loosening, contracting +and loosening; and he could hear the long slow breaths. + +Beyond sat Beatrice, upright and quiet, one hand in her lap, and the +other holding the father's. The old man was bowed with his head on his +other hand, as he had been for the last hour, his back bent forward with +the burden, and his feet crossed before him. + +From outside the noises grew louder as the morning advanced. There had +been the sound of continual coming and going since it was light. Wheels +had groaned and rattled up out of the distance and ceased abruptly; and +the noise of hoofs had been like an endless patter over the +stone-paving. And now, as the hours passed a murmur had been increasing, +a strange sound like the wind in dry trees, as the huge crowd gathered. + +Beatrice raised her eyes suddenly. + +The fortress itself which had been quiet till now seemed to awaken +abruptly. + +The sound seemed to come to them up the stairs, but they had learnt +during those hours that all sounds from within came that way. There was +a trumpet-note or two, short and brazen; a tramp of feet for a moment, +the throb of drums; then silence again; then the noise of moving +footsteps that came and went in an instant. And as the sound came, Ralph +stirred. + +He swayed slowly over on to his back; his breath came in little groans +that died to silence again as he subsided, and his arm drew out and lay +on the bedclothes. Chris could see his face now in sharp profile against +Beatrice's dark skirt, white and sharp; the skin was tightly stretched +over the nose and cheekbones, his long thin lips were slightly open, +there was a painful frown on his forehead, and his eyes squinted +terribly at the ceiling. + +A contraction seized the priest's throat as he watched; the face was at +once so august and so pitiable. + +The lips began to move again, as they had moved during the night; it +seemed as if the dying man were talking and listening. The eyelids +twitched a little; and once he made a movement as if to rise up. Chris +was down on his knees in a moment, holding him tenderly down; he felt +the thin hands come up and fumble with his own, and noticed lines deepen +between the flickering eyelids. Then the hands lay quiet. + +Chris lifted his eyes and saw his father's face and Beatrice's watching. +Something of the augustness of the dying man seemed to rest on the grey +bearded lips and solemn eyes that looked down. Beatrice's face was +steady and tender, and as the priest's eyes met hers, she nodded. + +"Yes, speak to him," she said. + +Chris threw a hand across the bed and rested it on the wooden frame, and +then lowered himself softly till his mouth was at the other's ear. + +"Ralph," he said, "Ralph, do you hear me?" + +Then he raised his face a little and watched. + +The eyelids were rising slowly; but they dropped again; and there came a +little faint babbling from the writhing lips; but no words were +intelligible. Then they were silent. + +"He hears," said Beatrice softly. + +The priest bent low again; and as he did so, from outside came a strange +sound, as of a long monstrous groan from a thousand throats. Again the +dying man stirred; his hand sought his brother's arm and gripped it with +a kind of feeble strength; then dropped again on to the coverlet. + +Chris hesitated a moment, and again glanced up; and as he did so, there +was a sound on the stairs. He threw himself back on his heels and looked +round, as the doctor came in with Morris behind him. + +He was a stout ruddy man, and moved heavily across the floor; but Ralph +seemed not to hear it. + +The doctor came to the end of the bed, and stood staring down at the +dying man's face, frowning and pursing his lips; Chris watched him +intently for some sign. Then he came round by Beatrice, leaned over the +bed, and took Ralph's wrist softly into his fingers. He suddenly seemed +to remember himself, and turned his face abruptly over his shoulder to +Sir James. + +"There is a man come from the palace," he whispered harshly. "I suppose +it is the pardon." And Chris saw him arch his eyebrows and purse his +lips again. Then he bent over Ralph once more. + +Then again the doctor jerked his head towards the window behind and +spoke across to Chris. + +"They have him out there," he said; "Master Cromwell, I mean." + +Then he rose abruptly. + +"He cannot receive Viaticum; and he will not be able to make his +confession. I should shrive him at once, sir, and anoint him." + +"At once?" whispered Chris. + +"The sooner the better," said the doctor; "there is no telling." + +Chris rose swiftly from his knees, and made a sharp sign to Morris. Then +he sank down once more, looking round, and lifted the purple stole from +the floor where he had laid it the evening before; and even as he did so +his soul revolted. + +He looked up at Beatrice. Would not she understand the unchivalry of the +act? But the will in her eyes compelled him.--Yes, yes! Who could set a +limit to mercy? + +He slipped the strip over his shoulders, and again bent down over his +brother, with one arm across the motionless body. Beatrice and Sir James +were on their knees by now. Nicholas was busy with Morris at the further +end of the room. The doctor was gone. + +There was a profound silence now outside as the priest bent lower and +lower till his lips almost touched the ear of the dying man; and every +word of the broken abrupt sentences was audible to all in the room. + +"Ralph--Ralph--dear brother. You are at the point of death. I must +shrive you. You have sinned very deeply against God and man. I shall +anoint you afterwards. Make an act of sorrow in your heart for all your +sins; it will stand for confession. Think of Jesu's love, and of His +death on the bitter cross--the wounds that He bore for us in love. Give +me a sign if you can that you repent." + +Chris spoke rapidly, and leaned back a moment. Now he was terrified of +waiting--he did not know how long it would be; but for an intent instant +he stared down on the shadowed face. + +Again the eyelids flickered; the lips formed words, and ceased again. + +The priest glanced up, scarcely knowing why; and then again lowered +himself that if it were possible Ralph might hear. + +Then he spoke, with a tense internal effort as if to drive the grace +home.... + +"_Ego te absolvo ab omnibus censuris et peccatis, in nomine Patris_--" +He raised himself a little and lifted his hand, moving it sideways +across and down as he ended--"_et Filii et Spiritus Sancti_." + + * * * * * + +The priest rose up once more, his duty driving his emotion down; he did +not dare to look across at the two figures beyond the bed, or even to +question himself again as to what he was doing. + +The two men at the further end of the room were waiting now; they had +lifted the candles and crucifix off the table, and set them on the bench +by the side. + +Chris went swiftly across the room, dropped on one knee, rose again, +lifted the veiled vessel that stood in the centre, with the little linen +cloth beneath, and set it all down on the bench. He knelt again, went a +step aside back to the table, lifted the other vessel, and signed with +his head. + +The two men grasped the ends of the table, and carried it across the +floor to the end of the bed. Chris followed and set down the sacred oils +upon it. + +"The cross and one candle," he whispered sharply. + +A minute later he was standing by the bed once more. + +"_Oremus_--" he began, reading rapidly off the book that Beatrice held +steadily beneath his eyes. + +"_Almighty Everlasting God, who through blessed James Thy Apostle, hast +spoken, saying, Is any sick among you, let him call the priests of the +Church_--" (The lips of the dying man were moving again at the sound of +the words; was it in protest or in faith?)--" ... _that is what is done +without through our ministry, may be wrought within spiritually by Thy +divine power, and invisibly by Thy healing; through our Lord Jesus +Christ. Amen._" + +The lips were moving faster than ever on the pillow; the head was +beginning to turn from side to side, and the mouth lay open. + +"_Usquequo, Domine_" ... began Beatrice. + +Chris dipped his thumb in the vessel, and sank swiftly on to his knees. + +"_Per istam sanctam Unctionem_"--"_through this holy unction_...." + +(The old man leaned suddenly forward on to his knees, and steadied that +rolling head in his two hands; and Chris signed firmly on the eyelids, +pressing them down and feeling the fluttering beneath his thumb as he +did so.) + +" ... _And His most loving mercy, may the Lord forgive thee whatsoever +thou hast sinned through sight._" + +Ah! that was done--dear God! those eyes that had drooped and sneered, +that had looked so greedily on treasure--their lids shone now with the +loving-kindness of God. + +Chris snatched a morsel of wool that Morris put forward from behind, +wiped the eyelids, and dropped the fragment into the earthen basin at +his side. + +"_Per istam sanctam Unctionem_...." + +And the ears were anointed--the ears that had listened to Layton's +filth, to Cromwell's plotting; and to the cries of the oppressed. + +The nostrils; the lips that had lied and stormed and accused against +God's people, compressed now in his father's fingers--they seemed to +sneer even now, and to writhe under the soft oil; the hands that had +been laid on God's portion, that had torn the vessels from the altar and +the cloth of gold from the treasury--those too were signed now, and lay +twitching on the coverlet. + +The bed clothes at the foot of the wooden framework were lifted and laid +back as Chris passed round to the end, and the long feet, icy cold, were +lying exposed side by side. + +_Per Istam sanctam Unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, indulgeat +tibi Domimus quidquid peccasti per incessum pedum. Amen._ + +Then they too were sealed with pardon, the feet that had been so swift +and unwearied in the war with God, that had trodden the sanctuary in His +despite, and trampled down the hearts of His saints--they too were +signed now with the mark of Redemption and lay again under the folded +coverlet at the end of their last journey. + +A convulsion tore at the priest's heart. + + * * * * * + +Then suddenly in the profound silence outside there broke out an +indescribable clamour, drowning in an instant the murmur of prayers +within. It seemed as if the whole world of men were there, and roaring. +The sound poured up through the window, across the moat; the boards of +the flooring vibrated with the sound. There was the throb of drums +pulsating through the long-drawn yell, the screams of women, the barking +of dogs; and a moment later, like some devilish benediction, the bells +of Barking Church pealed out, mellow and jangling, in an exultation of +blood. + +Ralph struggled in his bed; his hands rose clutching at his throat, +tearing open his shirt before Beatrice's fingers could reach them. The +breath came swift and hoarse through his open teeth, and his eyelids +flickered furiously. Then they opened, and his face grew quiet, as he +looked out across the room. + +"My--my Lord!" he said. + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The King's Achievement, by Robert Hugh Benson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KING'S ACHIEVEMENT *** + +***** This file should be named 16375-8.txt or 16375-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/3/7/16375/ + +Produced by Geoff Horton and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +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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