'Hush, Jack. On this beautiful day—Easter day—don't have wicked feelings. If you went to church this morning—'
'I didn't. I was too miserable,' Jack interrupted.
'Well, I am sorry for that,' she said very gently, 'because if you had gone you would have heard the words which tell us to put away the leaven of malice and wickedness, Jack. I have thought so much more of religion since I came to Bristol, I don't quite know why, but I have thought how, if we really love God, He will keep us safe—safe from evil passions such as we have seen possess poor Tom Chatterton. I could cry when I think that when he was only a little boy of eleven he could write those beautiful verses on "Christmas Day," and not long ago the lines on "Faith," and yet get so mastered by his passion that he could actually write a will to be read when he had sinned against God by killing himself to-day. And he is now cast out on the world, which will break his poor mother's heart.'
But Jack Henderson did not care to hear about the mad apprentice just then. He rose from his seat with a gesture of impatience.
'I don't want to hear about Tom Chatterton,' he said. 'I asked you a plain question, and I want a plain answer.'
'Well, then, dear Jack, we shall always be friends, I hope. But I could not—no, I could not promise more.'
'Very well,' he said moodily. 'But look here, Bryda, if I thought that scoundrel Bayfield had anything to do with this I'd break every bone in his body—I swear I would!'
'You have no right to speak to me like this,' Bryda replied. 'You have no right to suppose that the Squire has anything to do with what I say to you.'
'Haven't I, then? What did he mean by sneaking in last Christmas with presents, and daring to—' Jack stopped, and then in a choked voice he said, 'Don't be angry with me, Bryda; that would be worse than all.'
'No, I won't be angry if you are good,' she said, in a tone she would have used to soothe a child, 'and now let us go round by the village and down by Bristol to the Hot Wells.'