“She is trustworthy enough, if she be let be. But I misdoubt if her wits should carry her safe through a discourse with Father Bastian, if he were bent on winning the truth from her. I could trust Osmund better for that; but I looked to take him withal.”
“Give me leave then, Father, to walk down to Uncle’s, as if I wist not of his absence, and slip the letter into one of his pockets. He alway leaveth one of his gowns a-hanging in the hall.”
“And if his Martha were seized with a cleaning fever whilst he is thence, and turned out the pocket, where should we then be? Nay, True, that shall not serve. I can think of no means but that you twain set forth alone—to wit, without me—under guidance of Osmund, and that I follow, going round by Sandwich, having there seen and advertised my brother.”
“Were there no danger that way, Tom?”
“There is danger every way,” replied Mr Roberts, with a groan. “But maybe there is as little that way as any: and I would fain save Gertrude’s inheritance if it may be.”
“At the cost of your liberty, Father? Nay, not so, I entreat you!” cried Gertrude, with a flash of that noble nature which seemed to have been awakened in her. “Let mine inheritance go as it will.”
“As God wills,” gently put in Mistress Grena.
“As God wills,” repeated Gertrude: “and keep you safe.”
Mistress Grena laid her hand on her brother’s shoulder.
“Tom,” she said, “let us trust the Lord in this matter. Draw you up, if you will, a lease of Primrose Croft to the Justice, and leave it in the house in some safe place. God can guide his hand to it, if He will. Otherwise, let us leave it be.”