This information caused new thoughts to come into my mind, and I determined to remember what he had told me.
"Are Colman Killigrew and his sons beloved by the neighbouring families?" I asked presently.
"He is both beloved and hated. Some of the Catholics are his friends, but others mistrust him sorely."
These matters came out slowly. Evidently young Peter did not care about discussing them. Perchance he was afraid lest I should shrink from trying to carry out his plans when I knew them.
I was silent for some time. I pondered much over what I had heard.
"All this should be nothing to thee, Roger, lad," said old Peter, becoming more and more familiar in his tones. "All the Trevanions for many generations have sought to help the oppressed. Thou hast the blood of thy fathers within thee. This is work worthy of the best. Besides, if thou wilt do this, both Peter and myself will befriend thee always. Peter's heart went out after the maid, and he longed to set her free. She is suffering, Roger, suffering greatly. Killigrew will rob her, and sell her to one of his brutal sons. Such a work as we asked will win the blessing of Heaven."
"Have done with this Quaker talk!" I cried. "I care nothing about such things. Perchance the maid will be better off where she is than with you; perchance, too, one of these Killigrews will make a better husband for her than your puling lad."
"Nay, think not so," cried the old man; "Peter is a good lad, weak in body, but quick in thinking, and hath a kind heart."
"I like a fight," I blurted out; "I do not object to a rough bit of work, but——" I mused.
"But what, Roger, lad?"