Barbara’s eyes asked her love that as he took her bridle and drew away into the woods.
“They will take him to-day,” he said; “yesterday he was discovered. Other heads have fallen; so may his.”
She was silent awhile, and then looked at John Gore wistfully.
“And we are leaving him!”
“Wife, it was his wish, his prayer, his penance. I—a man—would not grudge it him. Can you not understand?”
“Yes, John, I can understand.”
And they rode back to Furze Farm sadly, knowing that it would be wiser for them to leave the place and seek some other refuge till they saw how the times promised.
Before noon my lord was taken in Thorn as a Catholic and a conspirator against the state. He met them calmly, with the fine carriage of the man of the world, courteous and debonair, ready even with an epigram and a smile. His face seemed strangely tranquil as he rode with his escort out of the gate of Thorn.
“May the sins of the fathers rest not upon the children.”
That was the prayer that his heart uttered.