“He did, did he? Then I have a counter turn with him. Why did he not ask me to play that part?”
“Because he knew thee of old, and that our child would be certain of thy protection.”
“Ah!” said Master Peasegood, with a sigh; “that girl is a great strain upon my mind—bless her!”
“Ay, bless her!” said Father Brisdone, fervently. Then, after a pause, “I may have to flee one of these days, for persecutions are sometimes very bitter against such as I. If I do go suddenly, you will remember all my words.”
“Remember them! Yes. But where should you go?”
“Throw myself upon the hands of Captain Carr, and trust to his generosity.”
“Yes, if at home; but he has sailed.”
“There are the woods and rocky hills.”
“Yes,” said Master Peasegood! “and plenty of blackberries, and hips and haws, and cold night-dews, and damp ferns. Bah, man, we can’t live like hermits here in this Christian land. This is not a place where a man can be happy in a hair-shirt and a scooped-out hole in the rock, with a handful of dates and a cup of water. My word, it would puzzle some of those early fathers to exist on such terms down here. But there, have no fear, there is not a man for miles round who would not give either of us a hiding-place and a regular meal if we were in need.”
“Brother Peasegood, you are a true friend,” said Father Brisdone; “and I shall resign myself to thy advice, for I am weak, and I own that I shrink from the thought of martyrdom; for life is, after all, so very sweet.”