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 G.o.d. 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 Sat.u.r.day 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 pa.s.sion 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 a.s.sistance, and had reminded him that they would meet again at Lewes in the course of a month or so.
"G.o.d 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 impa.s.sively 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed out a doc.u.ment of identification, and leaned forward from his horse to pa.s.s it through the opening. He felt trembling fingers take it from him; and a moment later heard returning footsteps.