“Those two parcels of rare goods, master, sent forth yester-even, that you wot of, I saw myself so far as Lamberhurst, and they be in safe hands for the further journey.”
Mr Roberts did not at once, as might now be done, ask Roger what he was talking about. The days of Romish ascendency in England were days when everybody knew that if a man’s meaning were not simple and apparent, there was probably some reason why he dared not speak too plainly, and it was perilous to ask for an explanation. Mr Roberts looked up into his manager’s face, and at once guessed his meaning. He was seriously alarmed to see it. How had Roger Hall become possessed of that dangerous secret, which might bring him to prison if it were known? For the penalty for merely “aiding and abetting” a heretic was “perpetual prison.” Those who gave a cup of cold water to one of Christ’s little ones did it at the peril of their own liberty.
Let us pause for a moment and try to imagine what that would be to ourselves. Could we run such risks for Christ’s sake—knowing that on every hand were spies and enemies who would be only too glad to bring us to ruin, not to speak of those idle gossiping people who do much of the world’s mischief, without intending harm? It would be hard work to follow the Master when He took the road to Gethsemane. Only love could do it. Would our love stand that sharp test?
All this passed in a moment. What Mr Roberts said was only—“Good. Well done.” Then he bent his head over the accounts again; raising it to say shortly—“Hall, prithee shut yon door; the wind bloweth in cold this morrow.” Roger Hall obeyed silently: but a change came over Mr Roberts as soon as the door was shut on possible listening ears. He beckoned Roger to come close to him.
“How wist you?” he whispered.
“Guessed it, Master.” It was desirable to cut words as short as possible. “Saw him go up to your house. Thought what should follow.”
“You followed them?”
“No; came too late. Searched, and found them in a field near Goudhurst.”
A shudder came over Pandora’s father at the thought of what might have been, if the priest had been the searcher.
“Any one else know?”