“Well, then, make haste,” said Elizabeth, pausing.
“Thou art friends with Alice Mount, of Bentley, and she knows Mistress Ewring, the miller’s wife.”
“Ay; well, what so?”
“Bid Alice Mount tell Master Ewring there’s like to be a writ out against him for heresy and contumaciousness toward the Church. Never mind how I got to know; I know it, and that’s enough. He, and Mistress Silverside, and Johnson, of Thorpe, be like enough to come into court. Bessy, take heed to thy ways, I pray thee, that thou be not suspect.”
No thought of herself had caused Elizabeth Foulkes to lay her hand suddenly on the buttress of Saint Peter’s, beside her. The father who was so dear to little Cissy was in imminent danger; and Cissy had just been asking God to send somebody to see after him. Elizabeth’s voice was changed when she spoke again.
“They must be warned,” she said. “Robin, thou and I must needs do this errand to-night. I shall be chidden, but that does not matter. Canst thou walk ten miles for the love of God?”
“I’d do that for the love of thee, never name God.”
Elizabeth did not answer the words. There was too much at stake to lose time.
“Then go thou to Thorpe, and bid Johnson get away ere they take him. Mistress Wade has the children, and she’ll see to them, or Alice Mount will. I must—”
“Thou’d best not put too much on Alice Mount, for Will Mount’s as like as not to be in the next batch.”