CHAPTER IX.

A JOURNEY.

"THERE is somebody coming up the hillside from the cottage," said Jack to his uncle, as they were sitting on the hillside a week or so after Jack's affair with the sacristan. "It is Master Fleming, I do believe."

"You are welcome, dear sir," said the shepherd, rising to greet the merchant. "Why did you not send for us to come to you, and spare yourself the trouble of climbing the hill?"

"The trouble is a pleasure, my old friend," said Master Fleming, shaking the old man's hand cordially. "I have lived in London many years, but I was bred in the north country where the hills are higher than here, and I have followed my father's flock on the mountain side many a day when I was a lad."

"I almost wonder you could endure life in London streets," said Jack. "I am beginning to marvel how I shall ever live in Bridge Street again after breathing the free country air all summer."

"I had little voice in the matter," said Richard Fleming. "My good father was killed, and our little property wholly destroyed by the marauding Scots (for we lived near the border), and my mother was left destitute with three young children. So when my mother's cousin in London offered to adopt me and bring me up as his own, she had little choice but to accept his offer. I well remember the exultation I felt, and the wonder and envy of my playfellows when it was announced that I was to go away to London and become a merchant; and my pining homesickness for the first few months of my sojourn in my cousin's house. But I grew used to the confinement and interested in my work after a time, and my cousin's family were very kind to me."

"Then I made acquaintance with a young kinsman of my own age, William Leavett, whom you, my son, know right well. We soon became sworn friends, and have always continued so, though we took different paths in life, and of late meet but seldom. I am now on my way to Bridgewater to see him, and one part of my errand here is to ask for the favor of your company on the road. I think you told me when I left you last that you were thinking of going home for a visit before long."

Jack looked somewhat doubtfully at his uncle. The prospect of riding all the way to Bridgewater in company with Master Fleming was a delightful one; but he thought of the old priest's warning, and of the sacristan, and he did not like the idea of abandoning his uncle when he might be in danger.

"I think, son Jack, you will do well to ride with Master Fleming, since you must go soon at any rate," said Thomas Sprat. "It will be both pleasanter and safer for you to travel with him than to travel alone. Nay, look not so grave upon it, dear lad. If your father think it best, you can return again by and by, and I shall come and see you in Bridgewater before long."

"But there is the Latin I was writing for Father John," said Jack, hesitating. "The poor old man will be sadly disappointed if I do not finish it, for I am sure he cannot do it himself. Good man, he did not know whether Horace were a Christian or a heathen."

"Ah, well," said the stranger, "many a man lives out his days in great comfort and usefulness who never heard of Horace. But as to that matter, it is my purpose to tarry a day or two at the Hall with Sir John Brydges, who, as I hear in the hamlet yonder, is last night returned from London."

"Is he returned? I am glad to hear it," said Thomas Sprat.

"He is then a good man," remarked Master Fleming.

"He is indeed, sir. I would all our country knights were like him; and his lady is worthy of her husband. Their household is a school of good manners and godly living to both men and maids."

"I have heard as much before, and am glad to hear it confirmed," said Master Fleming. "I have never met Sir John, but I have letters to him from mutual friends in London. I shall sojourn with him for two or three days, so you, Master Secretary, will have time to finish Father John's letter."

"I shall feel easier at leaving you, now that the knight is at home," said Jack to his uncle, after Master Fleming had taken his departure.

"Have no fears for me," replied the shepherd. "I have none for myself. My dependence for aid must be upon no arm of flesh, dear son, but on One who can as easily save by one as by many, and who will let no harm happen to me."

The next day Jack finished writing his Latin letter and copied it out fairly in his best hand, wishing in his soul that Master Crabtree could only see it. Then he carried it down to the little hamlet of Holford and called at the priest's house.

Father John welcomed him warmly, as usual, and admired the appearance of the letter, which, though he could not understand a word in ten, he insisted on Jack's reading aloud to him.

"It sounds all right, I am sure," said he. "And it is much better written than that of the abbot's secretary. It has come just in time too, for I shall have a chance to send it this afternoon by one of the brethren from the Abbey who has come to see the knight on some business. And now, son, what shall I pay you for your labor?"

"Nothing at all, dear father," replied Jack. "I should be ashamed to take a penny from you after all your kindness to me. I only wish I could do more for you before I go home. Shall I not set your reverence's books in order?"

"Nay, they are hardly worth the trouble, my son," replied Father John. "And so you are going home. Well, I shall be sorry to miss you, that is the truth. Your fresh young face comes upon me like sunshine. I fear I shall never see you again, for I am an old man, an old man, my dear, and between ourselves," he added, carefully looking round him, "this talk about heresy and the new doctrines, and all, is wearing me into my grave. Here has been Father Barnaby talking to me again about my duty—my duty, forsooth, who was in orders before he had left off his long coats, if indeed he ever wore them, which is doubtful—and the suspected spread of heresy in this part of the world; it was a good world before he came in to spoil it. I would he had been born in Germany or some of those outlandish parts where the Lutherans began, he would have enough to do there. And talking of the spread of heretical books, as if there was any danger from books where not one person in ten knows great A from little b. And to say I want discretion; I that might be his grandfather almost—what think you of that, my son?"

In his own mind, Jack was by no means sure that Father Barnaby was mistaken in this last named article; he did not say so, however, but applied himself to comforting the poor old man.

"I am sure, father, all the people of the parish love you. I know my uncle does, and so do all the knight's household. I heard them talking of it only a little time ago. I suppose Father Barnaby means to do his duty—"

"Oh, duty!" exclaimed Father John, interrupting him. "Whenever I hear folk talking about their duty, I always know they are going to say or do something disagreeable. But what have you there?" as Jack brought forward a basket.

"Fresh eggs, sir, ducks' and hens' eggs, and a pair of young fowls which my uncle sends you with his duty to your reverence. You will find them well fatted."

"Many thanks, many thanks, my son. And there now, that is the third pair of fowls I have had given me in a week. Does that look as if the parish were given to heresy? Do heretics send chickens and fresh eggs to their priest? Answer me that, now."

"I should say not, decidedly," answered Jack, suppressing a smile.

"The parish is a good parish if it were let alone," continued Father John, "but there, I must not keep you. I would you were not going, and yet mayhap it is best. Here, take this medal and hang it round your neck. It hath an image of your patron saint, and is of sovereign virtue to keep off the ague, so mayhap it may keep off heresies as well. Go, go, my son, and all the saints bless you!"

Jack kissed the old man's hand, promised to wear the medal faithfully, and went away rather wondering that he should feel sad at parting from one with whom his acquaintance had commenced so inauspiciously.

After leaving Father John, Jack took his way to the Hall to learn the hour at which Master Fleming intended to set out in the morning. He found the merchant and the knight walking together upon the terrace; and, standing quietly at one side, waited to be spoken to. Sir John was the first to notice him, and bade him good-day with his usual kindness.

"Can I do anything for you?" he asked. "Is my old friend, your uncle, in want of anything?"

"No, Sir John," replied Jack. "I came but to speak with Master Fleming, and they told me he was walking upon the terrace. I thought he was alone, or I should not have intruded."

"Nay, there is no intrusion in the case, my lad. I am glad to see you. Master Fleming tells me you are to be his travelling companion as far as Bridgewater. I am sorry you are going away. Your uncle will be lonely without you."

"I may perhaps come back and stay till school begins again," replied Jack, feeling much honored. "I have been very happy here, but my father misses me and wants me at home for a visit."

"I could find it in my heart to envy him the possession of such a son," replied Sir John, sighing as he spoke. "Dutiful and good children are a great blessing. See, my lad, that you never give your father cause to rue the day that God gave him a son."

"Remember the place of Scripture we read together this morning, brother," said the merchant in a low tone. "The prodigal son may yet come to himself and return to his father's house."

"I fear not, I fear not," replied the knight, shaking his head. "I fear he hath gone whence there is no returning. But should he come back, oh how gladly would I meet him—even a great way off!"

Jack stood by in reverent silence. He well knew to what the good knight alluded. Sir John Brydges had had but one son, and he had proved anything but a comfort to his parents. He had brought well-merited expulsion and disgrace upon himself at college, had gone first to London, and then abroad, and had been last heard of as fighting under the banner of one of the German princes. His mother believed him dead, and had caused many masses to be said for him; but his father could not wholly give him up for lost.

"You have come, I suppose, to see about our arrangements for tomorrow," said Master Fleming to Jack, after a little silence.

"Yes, an't please you," replied Jack. "I would now at what time we set out, so as to be ready."

"I propose to leave the Hall at an early hour, that we may avoid the heat of the day," said Master Fleming. "Can you be here by six?"

"By five, sir, if you desire it."

"Six will be early enough," said Master Fleming, smiling. "I suppose your luggage will not be large?"

"Oh, no, sir," returned Jack, blushing. "Only a change or two of clothes and two or three books—if you do not think that too much."

The knight smiled kindly. "They tell me you are fond of books," said he, "and that you are thinking of going to college. Do you then mean to be a priest or monk?"

"No, sir!" said Jack, with so much emphasis and decision that both gentlemen smiled. "I do not think I have any vocation for such a life. I had thought I should like to be a physician."

"'Tis a noble calling, and you do well to choose it, though it is not by any means so easy a life as the other; or so I should guess," said the knight. "Well, my lad, I doubt not you will do well. I have some interest at Oxford, and shall be glad to give you any help in my power. Now go, and be here betimes in the morning."

The next morning Jack was at the Hall even before the hour specified. He found his friend waiting for him, and a well-appointed pony prepared for his riding, while a man-servant attended to lead the sumpter mule, whose burden was considerably diminished. The knight gave Jack a fair rose-noble as a parting gift, and the lady bestowed upon him a plum bun and a handful of sweetmeats; and, fortified by a good breakfast of ale and cold beef, he set out on his journey in high spirits.

"Well, good luck go with 'em wherever they go, and the blessing of our Lady and all the saints attend them," said old Margery, sighing.

Their road passing by the cottage door, the travellers had stopped for a parting word, and Margery had done her best to insure their good fortune by throwing an old shoe after them.

"A better boy than Master Jack never breathed the breath of life; and as for Master Fleming, he is a godly, quiet gentleman as ever I saw, none of your swearing, ruffling gallants, and knows what belongs to good manners," added Margery, contemplating with much satisfaction the kerchiefs and hood the merchant had bestowed upon her. "Do you not think, Thomas Sprat, that we shall be lonesome without Jack?"

Thomas Sprat nodded a reply; and, having looked after the travellers as long as he could see them, he put his Testament into his pouch, and hastened away to the thicket in the little valley which was wont to serve him as a place of retirement.