A JOURNEY.
"THERE is somebody coming up the hillside from the cottage," said Jack to his uncle, as they were sitting on the hillside a week or so after Jack's affair with the sacristan. "It is Master Fleming, I do believe."
"You are welcome, dear sir," said the shepherd, rising to greet the merchant. "Why did you not send for us to come to you, and spare yourself the trouble of climbing the hill?"
"The trouble is a pleasure, my old friend," said Master Fleming, shaking the old man's hand cordially. "I have lived in London many years, but I was bred in the north country where the hills are higher than here, and I have followed my father's flock on the mountain side many a day when I was a lad."
"I almost wonder you could endure life in London streets," said Jack. "I am beginning to marvel how I shall ever live in Bridge Street again after breathing the free country air all summer."
"I had little voice in the matter," said Richard Fleming. "My good father was killed, and our little property wholly destroyed by the marauding Scots (for we lived near the border), and my mother was left destitute with three young children. So when my mother's cousin in London offered to adopt me and bring me up as his own, she had little choice but to accept his offer. I well remember the exultation I felt, and the wonder and envy of my playfellows when it was announced that I was to go away to London and become a merchant; and my pining homesickness for the first few months of my sojourn in my cousin's house. But I grew used to the confinement and interested in my work after a time, and my cousin's family were very kind to me."
"Then I made acquaintance with a young kinsman of my own age, William Leavett, whom you, my son, know right well. We soon became sworn friends, and have always continued so, though we took different paths in life, and of late meet but seldom. I am now on my way to Bridgewater to see him, and one part of my errand here is to ask for the favor of your company on the road. I think you told me when I left you last that you were thinking of going home for a visit before long."
Jack looked somewhat doubtfully at his uncle. The prospect of riding all the way to Bridgewater in company with Master Fleming was a delightful one; but he thought of the old priest's warning, and of the sacristan, and he did not like the idea of abandoning his uncle when he might be in danger.
"I think, son Jack, you will do well to ride with Master Fleming, since you must go soon at any rate," said Thomas Sprat. "It will be both pleasanter and safer for you to travel with him than to travel alone. Nay, look not so grave upon it, dear lad. If your father think it best, you can return again by and by, and I shall come and see you in Bridgewater before long."
"But there is the Latin I was writing for Father John," said Jack, hesitating. "The poor old man will be sadly disappointed if I do not finish it, for I am sure he cannot do it himself. Good man, he did not know whether Horace were a Christian or a heathen."