All's Well

by Emily Sarah Holt

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

  COUNTERPLOT.

  A man to be very much pitied was poor Mr Roberts. Not only had he topacify the priest, but Mistress Grena's line of defence, plausible as itsounded, had unhappily crossed and invalidated the excuse he hadintended to make for himself. His faint, hazy purpose up to that timehad been to deny any knowledge of the escape; but after it had been thusrepresented as a natural, every-day occurrence, how was he to keep upthe story? Yet he had no other ready.

  "No, Father--ay, it--I was a-bed," was his blundering reply.

  The priest's voice was sweet as a newly-tuned piano.

  "Was it not strange, my son, that you heard no sounds from beneath? Orwent you up, knowing what was passing?"

  What was the poor man to do? If he acknowledged that he knew of theescape of the fugitives, he laid himself open to the charge of "aidingand abetting"; if he denied it, he practically denied also the truth ofGrena's defence. At that moment he would have given every acre andshilling in his possession to be free from this horriblecross-questioning.

  The cat watched the poor mouse wriggle with grim satisfaction. Eitherway, it would come to its claws at last.

  Suddenly the scene of the morning was reproduced to the mind's eye ofthe tortured man. Roger Hall's voice seemed to say again--"Have youasked Him, Master?" Faintly, tremblingly in the unwontedness of theact, the request was made, and even that slight contact with theunchanging Rock steadied the wavering feet. He must speak truth, anduphold Grena.

  "Father," he said in a changed tone, "my sister told you true. Thejourney was hastened, and that suddenly."

  The change in his tone puzzled the priest. What had come to the man, inthat momentary interval, to nerve him thus anew?

  "How came the news, my son?"

  Mr Roberts was thankfully able to answer that he knew not.

  "But surely, with so much baggage as Mistress Collenwood must have bornewithal, the number of horses that left your house could not but be notedof them in the vicinage. Yet I am told no sound was heard."

  "My sister sent the most part of her baggage away before her," was theanswer.

  "Remember," said the Rector sternly, "the sin you incur if you deceive apriest!"

  "I have not spoken one untrue word, Father."

  At that moment the door-bell was rung, and answered by Osmund, who,coming into the room, deferentially informed the priest that my LordCardinal had sent his sumner to the Rectory, with a command that he, MrBastian, should attend his court at eight o'clock on the followingmorning. The interruption was welcome to both parties. The priest wasperplexed, and wanted time to think, no less than Mr Roberts. He hadanticipated an easy victory, and found himself unaccountably baffled.

  In the present day, no English gentleman would bear such questioning bya priest. The latter would very soon be told, in however civillanguage, that an Englishman's house was his castle, and that he heldhimself responsible for his actions to God alone. But the iron terrorof Rome was then over every heart. No priest could be defied, nor hisquestions evaded, with impunity. If those days ever come back, it willbe the fault and the misery of Englishmen who would not take warning bythe past, but who suffered the enemy to creep in again "while menslept." The liberties of England, let us never forget, were bought withthe blood of the Marian martyrs.

  No sooner had the priest departed than Mistress Grena silently slid intothe room. She had evidently been on the watch.

  "Brother," she said, in a voice which trembled with doubt and fear,"what have you told him?"

  "What you told him, Grena."

  "Oh!" The exclamation spoke of intense relief.

  "But you may thank Roger Hall for it."

  "Roger Hall!--what ado had he therewith?"

  "If you ask at him," answered Mr Roberts with a smile, "methinks hewill scarce know."

  "Will he come again?" she asked fearfully--not alluding to Roger Hall.

  "I wis not. Very like he will--maybe till he have consumed us. Grena,I know not how it hath been with you, but for me, I have been an arrantcoward. God aiding me, I will be thus no longer, but will go forth inthe strength of the Lord God. Believe you these lying wonders anddeceitful doctrines? for I do not, and have never so done, though I havemade believe to do it. I will make believe no longer. I will be a man,and no more a puppet, to be moved at the priest's pleasure. Thank God,Pan is safe, and Gertrude is not like to fall in trouble. How say you?Go you with me, or keep you Gertrude's company?"

  Then Grena Holland broke down. All her little prim precisenessvanished, and the real woman she was came out of her shell and showedherself.

  "O Tom!" she said, sobbing till she could hardly speak: for whenrestrained, self-contained natures like hers break down, they often doit utterly. "O Tom! God bless thee, and help me to keep by thee, andboth of us to be faithful to the end! I too have sinned and donefoolishly, and set evil ensample. Forgive me, my brother, and Godforgive us both!"

  Mr Roberts passed his arm round her, and gave her the kiss of peace.

  "Methinks we had best forgive each the other, Grena; and I say Amen tothy `God forgive us both!'"

  When Mr Bastian arrived at Canterbury a little after daybreak the nextmorning, he found, as he had expected, that while the message had beensent in the name of Cardinal Pole, it was really the Bishop of Dover whorequired his attendance. The Bishop wanted to talk with the parishpriest concerning the accused persons from his parish. He read theirnames from a paper whereon he had them noted down--"John Fishcock,butcher; Nicholas White, ironmonger; Nicholas Pardue, cloth-worker;Alice Benden, gentlewoman; Barbara Final, widow, innkeeper; SensBradbridge, widow; Emmet Wilson, cloth-worker's wife."

  "Touching Alice Benden," said the Bishop, "I require no note at yourhands; I have divers times spoken with her, and know her to be a rightobstinate heretic, glorying in her errors. 'Tis the other concerningwhom I would have some discourse with you. First, this John Fishcock,the butcher: is he like to be persuaded or no?"

  "Methinks, nay, my Lord: yet am I not so full sure of him as of someother. The two Nicholases, trow, are surer of the twain. You should assoon shake an ancient oak as White; and Pardue, though he be a man offew words, is of stubborn conditions."

  "Those men of few words oft-times are thus. And how for the women,Brother? Barbara Final--what is she?"

  "A pleasant, well-humoured, kindly fashion of woman; yet methinks notone to be readily moved."

  "Sens Bradbridge?"

  "A poor creature--weakly, with few wits. I should say she were mostlike of any to recant, save that she hath so little wit, it were scarceto our credit if she so did."

  The Bishop laughed. "Emmet Wilson?"

  "A plain woman, past middle age, of small learning, yet good wit bynature. You shall not move her, holy Father, or I mistake."

  "These heretics, what labour they give us!" said Dick of Dover, rathertestily. "'Tis passing strange they cannot conform and have done withit, and be content to enjoy their lives and liberties in peace."

  Having no principle himself, the Bishop was unable to comprehend itsexistence in other people. Mr Bastian was a shade wiser--not that hepossessed much principle, but that he could realise the fact of itsexistence.

  "There is one other point, holy Father," said he, seeing that the Bishopwas about to dismiss him, "whereon, if it stand with your Lordship'spleasure, I would humbly seek your counsel."

  The Bishop rubbed his hands, and desired Mr Bastian to proceed. Thelabour which the heretics gave him was very well to complain of, but tohim the excitement of discovering a new heretic was as pleasurable asthe unearthing of a fox to a keen sportsman. Dick of Dover, having nodistinct religious convictions, was not more actuated by personal enmityto the persecuted heretic than the sportsman to the persecuted fox.They both liked the run, the excitement, the risks, and the glory of thesport.

  "To tell truth, my Lord," continued Mr Bastian, dropping his voice, "Iam concerned touching a certain pa
rishioner of mine, a gentleman, I amsorry to say, of name and ancient family, cousin unto Mr Roberts ofGlassenbury, whose name you well know as one of the oldest houses inKent."

  The Bishop nodded assent.

  "'Tis true, during King Edward's time, he went for one of the newlearning; but he conformed when the Queen came in, and ever sithencehave I regarded him as a good Catholic enough, till of late, when I amfallen to doubt it, to my great concern." And Mr Bastian proceeded torelate to the Bishop all that he knew respecting the flight of theladies, and his subsequent unsatisfactory interview with the heads ofthe family. The Bishop listened intently.

  "This young maid," said he, when the narrative was finished, "what saidyou was her name--Gertrude?--this Gertrude, then, you account of asfaithful to holy Church?"

  "She hath ever been regular at mass and confession, my Lord, andperformeth all her duties well enough. For other matter, methinks, sheis somewhat light-minded, and one that should cast more thought to thecolour of her sleeves than to the length of her prayers."

  "None the worse for that," said Dick of Dover--adding hastily, as theunclerical character of his remark struck him--"for this purpose, ofcourse, I signify; for this purpose. Make you a decoy of her, Brother,to catch the other."

  "I cry your Lordship mercy, but I scarce take you. Her father and auntdo come to confession--somewhat irregularly, 'tis true; but they docome; and though the woman be cautious and wily, and can baffle myquestions if she will, yet is the man transparent as glass, and timid asan hare. At least, he hath been so until this time; what turned him Iwis not, but I am in hopes it shall not last."

  "Move this girl Gertrude to listen behind the arras, when as they talktogether," suggested the Bishop. "Make her promises--of anything shevalueth, a fine horse, a velvet gown, a rich husband--whatever shall bemost like to catch her."

  Mr Bastian smiled grimly, as he began to see the plot develop.

  "'Tis an easy matter to beguile a woman," said the Bishop, who, beingvery ignorant of women, believed what he said: "bait but your trap withsomething fine enough, and they shall walk in by shoals like herrings.Saving these few obstinate simpletons such as Alice Benden, that you cando nought with, they be light enough fish to catch. Catch Gertrude,Brother."