CHAPTER VIII.

JACK GOES HOME FOR A VISIT.

Jack described his visit to his uncle with considerable glee, but the old man shook his head and looked grave.

"I am glad Father Barnaby was diverted for once," said he; "but I fear he will not be so easily turned aside. From whence could he have gotten the notion that you were curious about heretical books?"

"I cannot guess," replied Jack. "I have never spoken a word to any one but you and Master Fleming. Surely he could not have played us false!"

"I think not. Did you not tell me once that you had talked with Anne, and said to her that you would like to read the Scriptures? And is not Father Barnaby her confessor?"

Jack started and turned pale. "Surely, surely, Anne would never betray me!" he said. "And yet—"

"If she were questioned, she might not be able to help answering," replied the shepherd. "Such minds and consciences as hers are as wax in the hands of a confessor like Father Barnaby. Many a time hath the brother betrayed the brother to death, and the father the son, without thinking they were doing any harm, or that their confession would be used against them. However, all may yet be well, and we will not borrow trouble. 'Each day's trouble is sufficient for the same selfe day,' our Gospel tells us. You have gotten the right side of Sir John, and that is something."

"I cannot help liking the poor man, in spite of his laziness and love of eating," said Jack. "He seems so good-natured, and he was so anxious that I should get on well with Father Barnaby, who by the way treated him with scant civility. I thought he might reverence the old man's age at any rate, for Sir John is old enough to be Father Barnaby's father. I wonder what in the world brought him up there behind the thornbush the other day."

"Not his own good will, I dare say," replied the shepherd. "I should not care if he had been the only listener, but I shrewdly suspect that sacristan of his has been before him. He is a sharp fellow, that same sacristan, and I have heard he was placed here by Father Barnaby to keep a lookout upon matters in the parish. It has been whispered—take good heed you whisper it not again—that our good knight is a favorer of the Gospel, like his father and grandfather before him; and I suspect Father Barnaby may have put this Brother Jacob about Sir John as a spy not only on him, but upon the family at the Hall. He had better not let our knight catch him at any spy work!" added the old man, smiling somewhat grimly, "Or he will get a worse fall than poor Father John's."

For two or three weeks all went on quietly with our friends at Holford. Mindful of another probable encounter with Father Barnaby, Jack studied his Horace with diligence, and stored his mind with hosts of queries to be answered and difficulties to be solved, should he meet the father again. He was a good deal startled and shocked by some things he encountered in his studies, and could not but wonder how two churchmen like Father Barnaby and Father Thomas of Glastonbury could bestow so much time and thought upon ladies of such at the least dubious character as some of those celebrated by their favorite author.

"Yes, I have often thought of that same thing," said Father John, when Jack remarked as much to him one day. "Here is Brother Barnaby ready to condemn one to I know not what, if one so much as looks at a pretty girl in the parish or gives her in all innocence a red apple or a flower, and yet he can pore for hours over all sorts of love stories, and those none of the nicest, as far as I can understand, and it is all right because they are in Latin. For my part I could wish there had never been any such language as Latin, unless just enough for the mass perhaps. I don't know what it is good for, except to puzzle men's brains and procure whippings for little boys, who when they grow up remember the whippings and mostly forget the Latin."

"And now about the abbot's letter, your reverence," said Jack. "If you had the notes ready, I would write it for you."

"Oh, dear, my son! You are as bad as Father Barnaby himself—no, not as bad, because you are good-natured and don't lecture me."

"I should hope I knew my duty far better than to lecture my elders and betters," said Jack. "I would not hurry you for the world, only you know great men like the abbot are sometimes offended at delay in their business, and he might speak about it to Father Barnaby—"

"Yes, that is true indeed," said the priest with alacrity. "That would be worse than setting the dogs on me. Well, I will make the necessary inquiries this very day, and you shall begin the letter tomorrow. It is a fine thing to be a scholar, though it sometimes brings people into trouble, as you see. If you did not know Latin, you would not be burdened with writing letters for me."

"I am sure I am very glad to do as much and more for you," said Jack, honestly. "You have been very kind to me, besides giving me that beautiful book, and I owe you amends for that unlucky mistake of mine on the hillside the other day."

"As to that, the mistake was mine, for I had no business there," replied Father John frankly. "I never should have thought of such a thing if I had not been worried into it by that pestilent sacristan of mine, who I wish was in Rome or farther away. He hath somehow—Just open that door, will you?"

Rather startled by the priest's tone, Jack threw open the door so quickly that the sacristan, who was close behind it, had no time to get out of the way. The heavy door opening outward and coming upon him unexpectedly gave him a smart blow on the head, and caused him, after staggering a few paces backward, to assume a sitting posture with more haste than was either dignified or convenient. As the poor clerk sat rubbing his forehead with a dazed expression, Father John burst out laughing.

"Truly, eavesdropping is a business which does not flourish in these parts," said he, as soon as he could recover breath. "Tut, never mind it, good brother. I dare say you meant no harm, but you should be careful not to stand so near the door."

"I was but coming with a message to your reverence," said Brother Jacob, recovering his feet, and repulsing Jack who ran to his help. "Old Dame Higgins is near her end, and desires the sacraments of the Church. I did not know you had company with you," he added, casting a venomous glance at Jack.

"Your excuse is received, Brother Jacob," said the old priest, with more dignity than Jack had thought he could assume. "I shall thank you to give orders concerning my mule, and have all things in readiness. I will visit the good woman at once, and would have you lose no time in making preparations."

Brother Jacob left the room without more words, and Father John watched him till he was out of hearing. Then, closing the door, he turned to Jack once more. "Now, dearest son, listen to me," said he, laying his hand on Jack's arm, and speaking with great earnestness. "This same sacristan of mine has whispered to me, that your uncle is, and hath long been, suspected of heresy, and that he has been teaching you the same. I trust it is not so, for your own sake and his. I ask no questions. I would willingly live in peace with all men, as you know. But, since they have put Father Barnaby over my head, I am but a cipher in mine own parish; and if you or your uncle were to be attainted of heresy, I could do nothing to save you. I pray you, therefore, be careful to whom and of what you speak. Make friends with Brother Jacob if you can, though I doubt he will be harder to conciliate than I was, although he did not fall so far. And oh, dear son, for your soul's sake, as well as your body's, beware of new-fangled doctrines. Surely, what was good enough for our fathers, may well do for us. I have learned already to love you; you are like a young brother I had once, and I do not have many to love nowadays," said the old man, with a break in his voice and tears in his eyes. "It would wring my heart, if evil should befall you."

Much affected, Jack kissed his old friend's hand, and assured him that he would be careful. On his way out he met the sacristan, and stopped to apologize for his share in the accident. Brother Jacob received his apology meekly, and said it was his duty to forgive injuries.

"But I meant no injury to you," said Jack, a little vexed. "The good father bade me open the door, and I could not see through the oak plank to know who was behind it, you know."

"True, and yet—however, we will say no more about it," returned the sacristan. "I trust I am too good a Christian to bear malice or to revenge any injury done to myself, above all when it is, as you say, unintentional."

"You may be as good a Christian as you like, but I would not trust you farther than I could see you, for all that," muttered Jack to himself. "I might have guessed, when Father John bade me open the door, that some one was behind it. I think it is my luck to make enemies. I wonder whether I had better tell my uncle what the good father told me."

Jack thought on this point all the way home, and at last concluded it best to tell the story.

Thomas Sprat heard it without surprise.

"I have been expecting as much," said he "A bird of the air is always ready to carry such matters. For myself, I care little. I am an old man, far past the age of ordinary men, and my summons will soon come. It matters little to me whether I go to my Father's house from a dungeon, or a stake, or my own bed. But I am troubled for you, my son, lest I have put your young life in jeopardy."

"As to that," said Jack thoughtfully, "I do not see that it matters so much whether one's life be long or short, so it be used in the best way and spent in God's service. I wish you would not be troubled about me, dear Uncle Thomas. I tell you truly that if I should be thrown into jail tomorrow, with no chance of escaping fagot and stake, I do believe I should still thank you for all you have done for me, and should think what I have learned here worth the price ay, a thousand times over. Besides, we may after all be in no danger; I have a dozen hard places in Horace, ready for Father Barnaby, if I encounter him again," he added, smiling.

The old man smiled also, but somewhat sadly, and shook his head.

"I doubt that bait will hardly take a second time," said he. "He is an hard man—so every one says—and I heard it whispered also among the servants at the Hall, that he was set over Father John's head expressly that he might keep a lookout for heresy."

"There is no love lost between him and Father John, I know that," remarked Jack. "I can clearly see that Father Barnaby tyrannizes over the old man, and that Father John is afraid of him. I do not believe that Father John himself would hurt a fly."

"Not unless the fly were very troublesome indeed," said the shepherd. "I would not be the fly that should keep him from his nap after dinner. These very easy-going people are sometimes hard enough on them that interfere with their beloved laziness. Well, my son, after all that has happened, I see not that we can do better than to put our trust in God and be doing good. We may be sure that what He sends or permits will be for the best in the end, since we have His word that all things work together for good to them that love Him. I wish our good knight would come home."

"I heard he was expected before many days," said Jack. "I made bold to ask my lady, the day I carried her the snails and birds' eggs for the making of her medicine, and she told me Sir John would not be away much longer. She seems a kind lady, though she is so proud and stately in her manners."

"She is a good lady, though as you say she is proud and stately, far more so than the knight himself," said Thomas. "She is more so than she used to be before the death of her son, about whom I told you the other day. I have often wished she had a daughter to comfort her. But poor Master Arthur was the only one of all her children who lived to man's estate. She did not seem to be as much bound up in the young gentleman as his father, while he lived; but she has mourned sorely for him since his death, and expended great sums for masses for him."