“Yes, sir, I am sure they are,” I answered; and I at once saw that the person speaking to me was he whom I had first known as Father Overton.
He greeted me cordially, and so I ran out and begged Brocktrop and A’Dale to wait for me for a few minutes.
“I have been anxious to hear of you since we parted at Antwerp,” I said. “John Foxe, too, in his letters has inquired of you, and we feared that you had fallen into evil plight.”
“I left Antwerp secretly,” he answered, “for I was in danger. Besides, I had a longing to return to England, first to minister to these poor refugees who had been driven by persecution from their native land, and also to spread the truth among my own countrymen. Having learned the art of weaving, I have remained here for some time in disguise; though I believe I am already suspected, and perhaps may again have to seek for safety in flight—though ready, if needs be, to suffer as a martyr for the truth.”
I replied that I hoped he would yet escape till better times, which might come, seeing that there was no prospect of the Queen’s Majesty having a son to succeed her. I then told him of the happy conversion of Friar Roger, by means of the letters he had written from Antwerp, and that he desired once more to meet with him.
A gleam of satisfaction passed over the countenance of Overton.
“I trust it is so,” he answered; “and yet it may be prudent in me not to place myself in his power until I am sure of his fidelity.” He then inquired what had brought me to Norwich. I at once told him the secret object of our visit, mentioning the name of the unhappy lady who had been put to death.
“Barbara Radford, did you say? Alas! alas! has she been murdered by these bloodthirsty bigots? Tell me how she looked; what she said. My sister, my dear sister, you were ever true and faithful! It would have rejoiced your heart to know that the brother you ever treated so affectionately had been brought to a knowledge of the truth. But oh! Ernst Verner, think what are my feelings when I tell you that it was I, in my blindness and bigotry, who first brought the family of the Radfords before the notice of the cruel Bonner as firm and uncompromising Protestants. Yet I loved my sister as much as any priest of Rome, imbued with its principles, can entertain love; but I thought it right to crush all such feelings, for the sake of advancing the cause I advocated. In what a different light do I now view such conduct!”
“The great Apostle Paul was a fearful persecutor, and yet he became one of the most mighty instruments in God’s hands for spreading the truth,” I replied.
“Yes, yes; but it becomes not me to liken myself to such a man,” he answered. “You say that you believe that my sister’s child is even now in this town? Then my heart did not deceive me. Not many days ago I met a lovely little girl in the family of some poor Flemish weavers. They told me that she was not their own child, but that they felt themselves bound to support her as if she were, and would sacrifice all that they possess rather than allow her to want. I made no further inquiries then, for a stranger coming in they were silent. Yet I well remember that while I spoke to her, a look came over her countenance which reminded me of my once-loved sister. I thought it was fancy, and banished it from my mind. I now feel sure that my feelings did not mislead me. But I cannot leave my work. I owe my safety, I believe, to never going forth during the day; for so well-known are my features, that I might be recognised. When evening sets in, return hither, and I will accompany you to the cottage where the family of Crugeot reside.”