"Such things seem impossible," said Master Lucas. "I wonder what his parents said."
"They may have approved," said Anne, bending closely over her work as she spoke. "If the sister were an heretic and a blasphemer, the brother's duty to the Church—"
"Tell me not of duty to the Church!" interrupted the baker. "I say the man was a villain, unfit to live, not worthy of the name of hound, since even brutes know the ties of affection and friendship. Why, the very old cat there, thief that she is, would fight to the death for her kittens. But here I am growing as hot as one of mine own ovens," said he, wiping his forehead and smiling at his own vehemence. "Only, Anne, thou shouldst not vex thine old father by taking the contrary side."
After Arthur had gone, the story of his adventures was talked over at the table, and Master Lucas again vented his indignation against the cowardly spy who had betrayed Arthur, and against spies and traitors in general.
"If it had been my son who had done such a thing, I would never see him more."
"Suppose it were your own son who was a heretic?" said Anne.
"That is a different matter," replied the baker. "It would be a great misfortune, and much to be deplored, but it would not be a base and traitorous action like the other. Nay, I could forgive heresy—the wildest heresy—in a man, sooner than treachery."
"I do not see the treachery," said Anne. "If he warned his sister beforehand what he was going to do, in case she persisted in her error as you call it, she had no cause of complaint. His duty as a Christian stood before his duty to his family, or any other carnal and fleshly ties. I think he did right," said Anne, flushing as she spoke. "I do not see how he could do otherwise."
"Would you, then, do so?" asked Sister Barbara.
"I would," replied Anne. "I should think it my duty."