Audry, in her impulsive way, was taken with the simplicity of the story. Aline, who was an unusually thoughtful child, was surprised, but reserved her opinion.

It was the beginning of many such readings. At first Ian said nothing; but, when they had finished reading two of the gospels and began to ask questions, he talked with them and explained many difficulties. What amazed Aline was the entire absence of any allusion to any of the ceremonial that had seemed to her young mind to form so large a part of religion. Also the simplicity of the appeal, to come directly to the divine without any intermediary, attracted her greatly in a way that perhaps it would not have done when the old parish priest of her earlier days was a really beloved friend.

Ian was disturbed in mind; he saw that the children were gradually but surely being influenced and that the old faith would never be the same again. But it must mean trouble and affliction; the district where they were was staunchly Catholic, and the measures that Mary’s advisers were taking were stern and cruel. That little face with its associations of bygone years, and its own magical attractive power that seemed to hold all but a few of every one with whom Aline came into contact! How could he bring lines of pain there? And yet how could he withhold what meant so much to himself, this which seemed to be a new and living light? Then that awful vision of George Wishart rose up again before him and with a vivid intensity he thought he saw the form of little Aline standing by him in the heart of the flames. There was too that awful prophecy of the horrible old woman about Aline’s path being through the fire. Surely there could be nothing in it? The perspiration stood on Ian’s brow: he caught his breath. Slowly the vision cleared away and there were the children seated before him. What if things, however, should come to this! His very soul was in agony torn this way and that.

CHAPTER XII
“MOLL O’ THE GRAVES”

HOLWICK generally pursued the even tenour of its way from year’s end to year’s end, with nothing more eventful than a birth, a death or a marriage. Aline’s adventure therefore, was likely to remain a staple topic of conversation for many years. But now there was a strange feeling in the air as though something further were going to happen. An atmosphere of uneasiness enveloped the place, an atmosphere oppressive like a day before a thunderstorm. It was nothing definite, nothing explicable, but every one seemed conscious of it; it pervaded Holwick, it pervaded Newbiggin on the other side of the river. Ian and the children were particularly aware of it. The placid life of the Tees Valley was to be stirred by things at least as striking as Andrew’s villainy.

It might have been old Moll’s ravings, it might have been the stirrings of religious troubles that had started the apprehension; but there it was, something not immediate but delayed, a presentiment too vague even to be discussed.

One day Thomas Woolridge was walking down from the Hall through the rocky ravine under Holwick Crags. It was a dull grey day with a strong wind, and the rocks seemed to tower up with an oppressive austerity out of all proportion to their size. He was in a gloomy frame of mind and kicked at the stones in his path, sullenly watching them leap and bound down the hill.

“Steadily there, neighbour,” said a voice from below, “do you want to kill some one?” and the head of Silas Morgan, the farm-reeve, appeared above the rocks beneath.

“Methinks I should not mind an I did,” answered Thomas, “provided it were one of the right sort. I am tired of slaving away under other folks’ orders. Who are they that they should have a better time than I have, I should like to know?”