"I do not know," said Master Lucas, shaking his head. "Anne is a true nun. She thinks all family affections are carnal and fleshly ties, and to be trampled under foot. I cannot—I will not think of your mother's daughter, that she would do such a deed, but I hope she may not be tried. But after all, we may be borrowing trouble. Father William makes no secret of his new ideas, nor does Arthur Brydges of his, and I hear my Lord Harland is as open, and he is very great with the bishop. Anyhow, I wish we were well out of the scrape."
[CHAPTER XIX.]
A SORROWFUL PARTING.
That evening Jack went, as he had proposed, to consult Father William about Sister Barbara.
Father William had lately made full profession of his faith, and preached the reformed doctrines openly in his church by the waterside, whither hundreds flocked to hear him—some urged by personal affection, for Father William was by far the most popular priest in Bridgewater; some from curiosity, to hear what was beginning to make such a noise and stir; and a few moved by earnest desire to hear and understand the truth. As yet, no disturbance had arisen in consequence of his preaching.
The other priests, indeed, were furious, and the preaching friars thundered unsparing denunciations against the heretic and all who heard demonstrating to their own satisfaction, at least, that he was possessed with ten devils, and would certainly be torn in pieces by them some day. The priest of St. Mary's was an infirm, easy-going old man, of the same school as Father John of Holford, and the prior of the convent was engaged in an active warfare with another convent concerning certain tan-yards and mills which they owned in common. Moreover, it was pretty well-known that the bishop of the diocese was, if not in reality a favorer of the gospel, yet nowise inclined to interfere with those who were.
Under all these favoring circumstances, Father William remained unmolested for the present, and he improved the time by preaching every day in his own church, and instructing in the truth those persons—and they were many—who came to unburden their minds and consciences to him.
Jack found him sitting at his frugal supper table, not eating, but leaning back in his chair; and he could not but remark how worn and thin the good man looked.
"You are killing yourself with this constant labor, dear father," said he; "you must take some rest."
"I must work the work to which I am sent, while it is yet day," said Father William. "The night cometh apace, in which no man can work. Unless I am greatly mistaken, this calm which we now enjoy is like to be of short duration, and I must use it diligently to win souls to my Master, and plant seed which may spring and grow when I am laid low. Besides," he added, with a sorrowful smile, "why should I save the body for the hangman or the stake? I should esteem myself blessed, indeed, if I might but die at my work. But what can I do for you, my dear son?"