More burst into a fit of laughter; and then took Ralph kindly by the hand.
“You are either very innocent or very deep,” he said. “And what have you come to ask me?”
“I have come to ask nothing, Master More,” said Ralph indignantly, withdrawing his hand—“except to be of service to you.”
“To talk about the oath,” corrected the other placidly. “Very well then. Do you begin, Mr. Torridon.”
Ralph made a great effort, for he was sorely perplexed by Sir Thomas’ attitude, and began to talk, putting all the reasons forward that he could think of for the accepting of the oath. He pointed out that government and allegiance would be impossible things if every man had to examine for himself the claims of his rulers; when vexed and elaborate questions arose—and this certainly was one such—was it not safer to follow the decrees of the King and Parliament, rather than to take up a position of private judgment, and decide upon details of which a subject could have no knowledge? How, too, could More, under the circumstances, take upon himself to condemn those who had subscribed the oath?—he named a few eminent prelates, the Abbot of Westminster and others.
“I do not condemn them,” put in More, who was looking interested.
“Then you are uncertain of the matter?” went on Ralph who had thought out his line of argument with some care.
More assented.
“But your duty to the King’s grace is certain; therefore it should outweigh a thing that is doubtful.”
Sir Thomas sucked in his lower lip, and stared gravely on the young man.