"Give me the key, my good friend," said Smeaton, through whose brain were passing many rapid considerations regarding his future conduct. "Did you make acquaintance with the parson of this place when you were here?"
"Ay, that I did, and rose high in his favour too," replied the sculptor. "He is a good, fat, jolly priest as ever waddled."
"And thinks of the things of this life, more than of the things of another, perhaps?" asked Smeaton.
"Ay, truly," responded the statuary. "He has more gods than one. A pipe of wine, a purse of guineas, a sucking-pig, or a haunch of venison, are better than any rubric for him, I wot."
"I must see to this," said Smeaton, in a musing tone; and, although the statuary could not divine whether he alluded to the parson or the pig, the purse or the pipe of wine, he did not venture to ask any questions, but got the key out of his saddle-bags. Having given it to Smeaton, the latter bade him adieu, and rode away.
CHAPTER XXII.
I trust the reader remembers well the description before given of the little village of fishermen's cottages at Ale, and of the way in which the road, after separating into two, in order to send off a branch to Ale Manor House, proceeded to the entrance of the village, and there dwindled into a narrow path, for want of room between the steep banks to reach the seaside in its original breadth. Smeaton passed the turning of the road towards the Manor, though evidently with some reluctance; for he paused an instant before he made up his mind, and then rode on more slowly. Five hundred yards onward brought him to the spot where it was necessary to dismount; but, before he had completely reached it, two men came out from under the shadow of the bank, and stood directly in his way. The moonlight enabled him to see, however, that they bore the ordinary garb of the fishermen of the place, which, I need hardly tell the learned reader, was very different from the fishermen's garb of the present day, and much more marked and picturesque. From these men he apprehended no opposition, even if they were not of the very party which had liberated him; and he was soon saluted in a civil tone, with the words--
"Good night, sir. You know you cannot ride down here. We thought it was some of the soldiers."
Smeaton dismounted, and gave his horse to his servant to hold; and, walking forward a little way with the two men, he explained to them his desire to obtain shelter in the village, and concealment from everybody for a time.
At first there seemed some hesitation in their replies; and the young nobleman began to fancy that the danger in which he stood, and which might pursue him even there, made them look upon him as an unwelcome guest; but, when he frankly put the question whether they were afraid to receive him, one of them replied with a laugh--"Lord bless you, no, sir. All the soldiers in Exeter should not take you out from amongst the men of Ale. Unless they brought cannon against us, they could do nothing in this village. We would beat them out with hand-spikes. It is not that at all. You are right welcome to all that we can do for you; but they say you are a lord; and you'll find the best house in the place but a poor hole for such a one as you."