“God be praised!” solemnly responded William Mount, and the others added an Amen.
“Well, you’re a queer set!” said Bartle, looking at them. “I shouldn’t want to thank nobody for it, if so be I was going to be hanged: and that’s easier of the two.”
“We are only going Home,” answered William Mount. “The climb may be steep, but there is rest and ease at the end thereof.”
“Well, you seem mighty sure on’t. I know nought. Priests say you’ll find yourselves in a worser place nor you think.”
“Nay! God is faithful,” said Johnson.
“Have it your own way. I wish you might, for you seem to me a deal tidier folks than most that come our way. Howbeit, my news isn’t all told. Alegar, your brats be gone to Hedingham.”
“God go with them!” replied Johnson; but he seemed much sadder to hear this than he had done for his own doom.
“And Margaret Thurston’s recanted. She’s reconciled and had to better lodging.”
It was evident, though to Bartle’s astonishment, that the prisoners considered this the worst news of all.
“And John Thurston?”