"You watch late, my son," was his first greeting; "methinks you should be glad to sleep."
Jack simply inclined his head.
The priest put down the lantern he carried, and sat himself down on the pallet opposite to Jack, as if prepared to enter into conversation. Jack quietly waited for him to begin.
"You have heard the result of the trial to-day, I suppose," said Father Barnaby, after some minutes silence.
Jack assented.
"I would willingly have saved the old man," he continued, "but the evidence was too plain against him. He was convicted on the witness of one who heard him not only reading and speaking heresy, but striving to corrupt you. There was nothing to be done."
Still Jack did not reply, though the priest paused as though expecting him to speak.
"For you, my son, I would fain save you from a like fate," continued Father Barnaby. "I trust to be able to do so, if only you will be conformable and docile as becomes your youth. You will be brought before us in the morning early, before the execution takes place, and I have come to see if any argument of mine can move you so that you shall then be ready to confess your errors."
"You are the jailer and I am the prisoner," said Jack, breaking silence for the first time; "therefore I must hear you whether I will or no; but I tell you plainly, I am not to be persuaded. If indeed you do mean kindly, I thank you for your kindness, but I would rather it displayed itself in leaving me alone that I may have space for thought and prayer."
"But you will not refuse to listen to me," said Father Barnaby gently. "I have not come to argue with you, my son. I know well that in such cases, arguments are of little avail. But I desire to set before you plainly the results of two different courses of action."