In accordance to this humane resolve, and which was indeed at the period sufficiently hazardous, the priest was conveyed up stairs, and laid upon a four-post bed. But although every attention was paid to him, it was soon apparent that his hours were numbered.
Calling Dame Hathaway to his bed side, as he somewhat recovered, the priest desired that Master Hathaway might be summoned.
"I fear me your kindness, good Master Hathaway," he said, "may possibly get you into misfortune; and were I able to rise and leave your cottage, I would rather do so, than lay you under the danger of succouring me."
"Heed it not," said the good farmer, "a belated wayfarer should ever find shelter in an Englishman's cottage."
"But, in me," said the priest, "you behold a man condemned to death, and whom the officers of justice are now in search of."
"I know you only as one in need," returned the farmer. "Those who search know for what they search. You are welcome to my roof whilst needing it. When you no longer need it, go forth."
"I shall never leave it alive," said the priest. "Listen whilst I relate the causes which have driven me to this extremity."
"Go to," said Hathaway, "sleep would do you more good. But an it pleases you to be a talker, I am all attention."
"You doubtless know me," said the priest, "and so much of my history as led me to fly from Clopton what time the good Sir Hugh was arrested and sent to the Tower."
"Hap I do, hap I don't," said the farmer. "Take another sip of the warm sack my dame hands you, and go on from thence. At least I've heard of the events of that night."