"I beg your pardon, sir," came in a quiet voice from beyond him; and Robin, looking across, saw Anthony with a face as if frozen.
"Pooh! pooh!" burst out Mr. Thomas, with an uneasy air. "The Holy Father, I take it, may make mistakes, as I understand it, in such matters, as well as any man. Why, a dozen priests have said to me they thought it inopportune; and--"
"I do not permit," said Anthony with an air of dignity beyond his years, "that any man should speak so in my company."
"Well, well; you are too hot altogether, Mr. Babington. I admire such zeal indeed, as I do in the saints; but we are not bound to imitate all that we admire. Say no more, sir; and I will say no more either."
They rode in silence.
It was, indeed, one of those matters that were in dispute at that time amongst the Catholics. The Pope was not swift enough for some, and too swift for others. He had thundered too soon, said one party, if, indeed, it was right to thunder at all, and not to wait in patience till the Queen"s Grace should repent herself; and he had thundered not soon enough, said the other. Whence it may at least be argued that he had been exactly opportune. Yet it could not be denied that since the day when he had declared Elizabeth cut off from the unity of the Church and her subjects absolved from their allegiance--though never, as some pretended then and have pretended ever since, that a private person might kill her and do no wrong--ever since that day her bitterness had increased yearly against her Catholic people, who desired no better than to serve both her and their G.o.d, if she would but permit that to be possible.
II
It would be an hour later that they bid good-bye to Mr. Thomas FitzHerbert, high among the hills to the east of the Derwent river; and when they had seen him ride off towards Wingerworth, rode yet a few furlongs together to speak of what had been said.
"He can do nothing, then," said Robin; "not even to give good counsel."
"I have never heard him speak so before," cried Anthony; "he must be near mad, I think. It must be his marriage, I suppose."
"He is full of his own troubles; that is plain enough, without seeking others. Well, I must bear mine as best I can."
They were just parting--Anthony to ride back to Dethick, and Robin over the moors to Matstead, when over a rise in the ground they saw the heads of three hors.e.m.e.n approaching. It was a wild country that they were in; there were no houses in sight; and in such circ.u.mstances it was but prudent to remain together until the character of the travellers should be plain; so the two, after a word, rode gently forward, hearing the voices of the three talking to one another, in the still air, though without catching a word. For, as they came nearer the voices ceased, as if the talkers feared to be overheard.
They were well mounted, these three, on horses known as Scottish nags, square-built, st.u.r.dy beasts, that could cover forty miles in the day.
They were splashed, too, not the horses only, but the riders, also, as if they had ridden far, through streams or boggy ground. The men were dressed soberly and well, like poor gentlemen or prosperous yeomen; all three were bearded, and all carried arms as could be seen from the flash of the sun on their hilts. It was plain, too, that they were not rogues or cutters, since each carried his valise on his saddle, as well as from their appearance. Our gentlemen, then, after pa.s.sing them with a salute and a good-day, were once more about to say good-bye one to the other, and appoint a time and place to meet again for the hunting of which Robin had spoken to Marjorie, and, indeed, had drawn rein--when one of the three strangers was seen to turn his horse and come riding back after them, while his friends waited.
The two lads wheeled about to meet him, as was but prudent; but while he was yet twenty yards away he lifted his hat. He seemed about thirty years old; he had a pleasant, ruddy face.
"Mr. Babington, I think, sir," he said.
"That is my name," said Anthony.
"I have heard ma.s.s in your house, sir," said the stranger. "My name is Garlick."
"Why, yes, sir, I remember--from Tideswell. How do you do, Mr. Garlick?
This is Mr. Audrey, of Matstead."
They saluted one another gravely.
"Mr. Audrey is a Catholic, too, I think?"
Robin answered that he was.
"Then I have news for you, gentlemen. A priest, Mr. Simpson, is with us; and will say ma.s.s at Tansley next Sunday. You would like to speak with his reverence?"
"It will give us great pleasure, sir," said Anthony, touching his horse with his heel.
"I am bringing Mr. Simpson on his way. He is just fresh from Rheims. And Mr. Ludlam is to carry him further on Monday," continued Mr. Garlick as they went forward.
"Mr. Ludlam?"
"He is a native of Radbourne, and has but just finished at Oxford....
Forgive me, sir; I will but just ride forward and tell them."
The two lads drew rein, seeing that he wished first to tell the others who they were, before bringing them up; and a strange little thing fell as Mr. Garlick joined the two. For it happened that by now the sun was at his setting; going down in a glory of crimson over the edge of the high moor; and that the three riders were directly in his path from where the two lads waited. Robin, therefore, looking at them, saw the three all together on their horses with the circle of the sun about them, and a great flood of blood-coloured light on every side; the priest was in the midst of the three, and the two men leaning towards him seemed to be speaking and as if encouraging him strongly. For an instant, so strange was the light, so immense the shadows on this side spread over the tumbled ground up to the lads themselves, so vast the great vault of illuminated sky, that it seemed to Robin as if he saw a vision.... Then the strangeness pa.s.sed, as Mr. Garlick turned away again to beckon to them; and the boy thought no more of it at that time.
They uncovered as they rode towards the priest, and bowed low to him as he lifted his hand with a few words of Latin; and the next instant they were in talk.
Mr. Simpson, like his friends, was a youngish man at this time, with a kind face and great, innocent eyes that seemed to wonder and question.
Mr. Ludlam, too, was under thirty years old, plainly not of gentleman"s birth, though he was courteous and well-mannered. It seemed a great matter to these three to have fallen in with young Mr. Babington, whose family was so well-known, and whose own fame as a scholar, as well as an ardent Catholic, was all over the county.
Robin said little; he was overshadowed by his friend; but he listened and watched as the four spoke together, and learned that Mr. Simpson had been made priest scarcely a month before, and was come from Yorkshire, which was his own county, to minister in the district of the Peak at least for awhile. He heard, too, news from Douay, and that the college, it was thought, might move from there to another place under the protection of the family of De Guise, since her Grace was very hot against Douay, whence so many of her troubles proceeded, and was doing her best to persuade the Governor of the Netherlands to suppress it.
However, said Mr. Simpson, it was not yet done.
Anthony, too, in his turn gave the news of the county; he spoke of Mr.
Fenton, of the FitzHerberts and others that were safe and discreet persons; but he said nothing at that time of Mr. Audrey of Matstead, at which Robin was glad, since his shame deepened on him every hour, and all the more now that he had met with those three men who rode so gallantly through the country in peril of liberty or life itself. Nor did he say anything of the FitzHerberts except that they might be relied upon.
"We must be riding," said Garlick at last; "these moors are strange to me; and it will be dark in half an hour."
"Will you allow me to be your guide, sir?" asked Anthony of the priest.
"It is all in my road, and you will not be troubled with questions or answers if you are in my company."
"But what of your friend, sir?"
"Oh! Robin knows the country as he knows the flat of his hand. We were about to separate as we met you."
"Then we will thankfully accept your guidance, sir," said the priest gravely.
An impulse seized upon Robin as he was about to say good-day, though he was ashamed of it five minutes later as a modest lad would be. Yet he followed it now; he leapt off his horse and, holding Cecily"s rein in his arm, kneeled on the stones with both knees.
"Your blessing, sir," he said to the priest. And Anthony eyed him with astonishment.
III
Robin was moved, as he rode home over the high moors, and down at last upon the woods of Matstead, in a manner that was new to him, and that he could not altogether understand. He had met travelling priests before; indeed, all the priests whose ma.s.ses he had ever heard, or from whom he had received the sacraments, were travelling priests who went in peril; and yet this young man, upon whose consecrated hands the oil was scarcely yet dry, moved and drew his heart in a manner that he had never yet known. It was perhaps something in the priest"s face that had so affected him; for there was a look in it of a kind of surprised timidity and gentleness, as if he wondered at himself for being so foolhardy, and as if he appealed with that same wonder and surprise to all who looked on him. His voice, too, was gentle, as if tamed for the seminary and the altar; and his whole air and manner wholly unlike that of some of the priests whom Robin knew--loud-voiced, confident, burly men whom you would have sworn to be country gentlemen or yeomen living on their estates or farms and fearing to look no man in the face. It was this latter kind, thought Robin, that was best suited to such a life--to riding all day through north-country storms, to lodging hardily where they best could, to living such a desperate enterprise as a priest"s life then was, with prices upon their heads and spies everywhere. It was not a life for quiet persons like Mr. Simpson, who, surely, would be better at his books in some college abroad, offering the Holy Sacrifice in peace and security, and praying for adventurers more hardy than himself. Yet here was Mr. Simpson just set out upon such an adventure, of his own free-will and choice, with no compulsion save that of G.o.d"s grace.
There was yet more than an hour before supper-time when he rode into the court at last; and d.i.c.k Sampson, his own groom, came to take his horse from him.
"The master"s not been from home to-day, sir," said d.i.c.k when Robin asked of his father.
"Not been from home?"
"No, sir--not out of the house, except that he was walking in the pleasaunce half an hour ago."