Then, in answer to a look of amazement, perhaps of inquiry, which the man saw depicted on the Vicar's countenance, he suddenly seized Mr. Tittleton's hand and shook it warmly.
"Oh! Mr. Vicar," he cried, "how could you think it possible that I could again take up the accursed work which brought me hither? Do you know that each time that I saw you by my bedside, each time that I felt your cooling hand on my feverish brow, whensoever I listened to your soothing voice, my whole soul was moved with contrition and remorse. For I came hither on an evil errand—may God forgive me!
"My report of Chiddingly might have brought about your death warrant. Oh, I thank Heaven that it was destroyed ere the mischief was done! And as I lay on my sick-bed, I surmised that you must have suspected all this; yet you and Mistress Susan watched over me with unwearied tenderness and patience—you snatched me from the jaws of death! And the thought of all this broke my hard heart!
"Now I wish you adieu, my dear Vicar; but ere I go, let me leave with you a word of counsel. It is known to me that dangerous reports of you have reached London, and though I abandon the office of apparitor another will take it up, and your life may be in danger. Therefore, I beseech you to take refuge abroad, as so many of your brethren have done. Soon the clouds may roll by, but for the present hour of stress and trouble seek safety in flight, I beseech you."
The Vicar shook his head sadly.
"It may not be, my dear friend—the shepherd may not flee and leave his flock in danger."
"Yet," urged his visitor, "it is written, 'If they persecute you in one city, flee ye into another'—is that not so?"
"Yes, that is the Divine counsel," answered the Vicar, "and the hour may come when I may feel the monition to be addressed to me; but for the present I abide in Chiddingly!"
"God's will be done," said the man solemnly—and so they parted.