The next morning when the old couple and Burdale made their appearance,
they did not in any way allude to what had taken place during the night,
as if they had been totally ignorant of it. Breakfast was got ready by
the aged dame; and afterwards Jack stole about the building, and found
his way without difficulty into the vault below. Not a trace of any of
the occupants of the previous evening was to be seen, but how they had
gone he could not discover. Certainly they had not come up by the steps
by which he had descended, and passed through the hall.
As the afternoon approached, Jack became more impatient than ever to pay
his proposed visit to Harwood Grange. Mr Harwood had spoken so kindly
to him, that he could not help hoping he would not reject him as a
son-in-law. At length the hour fixed by Burdale for starting arrived,
and Jack eagerly threw himself into the saddle.
"Why, your horse partakes of your spirit," observed his companion, as,
clapping his spurs in the horse's side, Jack galloped over the
greensward at a rate which put his guide's steed on his mettle.
He would willingly have gone by himself, but unacquainted with that part
of the forest, he would scarcely alone have found his way in the dark.
A couple of hours' hard riding, sometimes across cultivated ground, and
at others over what remained in a state of nature, brought him to the
neighbourhood of the Grange. Leaving the horses with Burdale, who
promised to remain concealed with them under a thick clump of trees, he
went towards the house on foot. Jack found the Squire waiting for him
in a sheltered walk at a short distance from the house, and having
delivered the messages and letters he had received from the various
persons he had visited, gave him a full account of his adventures.
"You have indeed managed admirably, my young friend," said Mr Harwood.
"You would make a first-rate diplomatist, and I shall have very great
satisfaction in recommending you to a good appointment for which your
talents peculiarly fit you. You will find Pearson thoroughly
trustworthy, and as he advises you to stay for a short time with him in
his farm in the fens, I would advise you to accept his invitation. You
will meet persons there who will be able to forward your interests, and
you will besides find ample amusement of various sorts during your stay.
You will come in now, and take some refreshment," he observed; "and my
daughter Alethea will be happy to welcome you. We may possibly have
some visitors at supper, who are engaged in a certain important
undertaking, but do not mention to them, and especially to my daughter,
having met me last night. I know that I can trust you, but I am
unwilling to implicate others in the matter I have in hand."
As Jack, in company with the Squire, was about to enter the house, he
saw a horseman ride out of the courtyard, and kissing his hand to
Alethea, who stood at a window overlooking the avenue, take the way
towards Nottingham. A second glance at the horseman, though already at
some distance, convinced Jack that he was his brother Jasper. He loved
his brother. His first impulse was to shout out to him, and to call him
back, that he might make inquiries about home, but then, recollecting
the accusations brought against him, he dreaded Jasper's rebukes in the
presence of the Squire; and next, for the first time in his life, a
feeling of jealousy stole over him. Had Jasper--the quiet, studious
unassuming Jasper--been paying court to the fair heiress of Harwood
Grange? And how had Alethea received him?
The Squire having stepped on in front to open a door, prevented him from
asking any questions, and he presently found himself ushered into the
hall. A shout from Mr Harwood brought Alethea into the open gallery at
one end of it; and seeing Jack, she at once came down-stairs. She
greeted him in a friendly way, and then, not without some embarrassment,
told him that he had narrowly missed seeing his brother.
"Had I known of your coming, I would have begged him to stop and meet
you," she said, looking, however, down on the floor as she spoke. "You
will, however, probably overtake him if you go on to Nottingham
to-night, or you will see him with the rest of your family to-morrow."
Jack replied that circumstances would prevent him returning home. He
naturally felt disinclined to tell Alethea more of the truth than was
necessary. They had little time for conversation before the servant
announced that supper was ready, when two other persons were seen
crossing the hall in the direction of the supper-room.
"Some friends I told you that you might possibly meet," observed the
Squire to Jack, as they took their seats at the table.
From the dress of the strangers, Jack at once came to the conclusion
that they were ecclesiastics or ministers of some denomination. When he
glanced at the countenance of the man opposite to him, he had little
doubt that he at least was a priest of the Church of Rome. The person
had a somewhat pale face and hollow cheeks, with bright intelligent
eyes, and thin, undemonstrative lips. His was one of those countenances
formed rather to conceal than express the thoughts of the mind. The
first words uttered by the other man, who sat by his side, made Jack
turn round to examine his features, for in the tones of his voice he
recognised those of the Reverend Simon Stirthesoul. He looked at him
again and again. The form of the features was the same, but their
expression was now very different. Once Jack caught him eyeing him, as
he was bending down over his plate, and he felt sure, by the cunning
expression of the man's face, that he was not mistaken. Still Master
Simon gave no other sign of recognition. His dress, though different
from that which he had before worn, did not stamp him positively as a
priest of Rome, though its cut and colour were such as were generally
worn by clericals in those days. Each time the man spoke Jack was more
and more convinced that he was Master Simon Stirthesoul. At the same
time, so earnest was his application to the viands placed before him,
that he did not indulge himself much in entering into conversation.
That was chiefly kept up by Alethea and Jack's opposite neighbour, who
devoted himself to her. His conversation indeed was agreeable, for he
had visited many countries, and had shrewd remarks to make on all he had
seen. Jack at length heard him describing Rome, and picturing the
glories of the Eternal City.
"Ah, Miss Harwood," he exclaimed, "there we have the blessing of pure
religion, sanctioned by the authority of the ancient Fathers, by the
great Apostle Peter, and by Councils, and by the infallible head of the
Church--the Pope himself! What a blessing to have no dissent, no
difference of opinion; all united in one brotherhood, under one loving
father, and to be relieved of all care and responsibility, and to know
that whatever the Church decides is a right thing for us to believe!"
From what the person said, Jack had now no longer any doubt that he was
a priest of Rome; but the more he listened the less inclined he became
to acknowledge the correctness of his assertion. Jack watched Alethea's
countenance, and he could not help hoping that neither did she
altogether agree with him. They seemed, however, to have more effect
upon Mr Harwood, for whom, in all probability, they were equally
intended. His fathers had been Romanists, and he himself, though
belonging to the Church of England, had never very perfectly imbibed
Protestant truth. Master Stirthesoul made no remark, which surprised
Jack, as the doctrines put forth by the priest were diametrically
opposed to those which that worthy had himself been a short time ago
enunciating to the public. There was a twinkle occasionally in his eye,
but that might have arisen from the pleasure with which he was
discussing the viands placed before him, and Jack could not discover
whether he approved or not of the doctrines which were being laid down.
Still it was curious to find two persons of apparently different
opinions so closely associated with each other, as it was evident was
the case.
Jack all the time was longing to have some private conversation with
Alethea; but the other guests showed no inclination to take their
departure; and he felt that he could not remain much longer, as his
companion, Burdale, would naturally be becoming impatient. He himself
could not agree with the priest's remarks, plausible as they were.
Though he had not seen much of Romanists, he had heard a good deal of
what took place at Rome, and believed truly that the union spoken of was
very far from being real. He had heard, too, of a Spanish army of Roman
Catholics attacking Rome, and of its being given up to them to pillage,
they having treated the dignitaries of the Church and the Pope himself
with even less respect than did their Protestant brothers-in-arms. He
had heard, too, that it was not proved that Peter had ever been at Rome,
much less that he was a Bishop of that city; and he was not altogether
ignorant of the existence of the Inquisition, and of the mode by which
that institution endeavoured to support the Church of Rome and the
dogmas it inculcated.
The more the priest praised Rome and its system, the more anxious Jack
became to speak to Alethea on the subject, and to do away with any
impression he might have made. He had a clear, straightforward way of
looking at things, the characteristic of the best type of Englishmen.
He had been led into scrapes, he had done things for which he was sorry,
and he was even now suffering the consequences of doing what was wrong,
but instead of attempting to get out of the difficulty by twisting and
turning and prevarication and falsehood, he always endeavoured to escape
by going straightforward, boldly telling the truth, and, if needs be,
doubling his fist, or drawing his sword and fighting his way out. Thus
the sophistries and arguments which he heard brought forward by the
Romish priest, far from having any effect upon him, made him more than
ever inclined to oppose the system which Rome endeavours to spread over
the world. He still waited on in the hope that the two guests would
take their departure, but they seemed in no way disposed to do so, and
at length Mr Harwood remarked that the shades of evening were
approaching, and that he would have some difficulty in finding his way
through the forest, if he delayed much longer. This hint was too clear
not to be taken, and, very reluctantly, he at length rose to pay his
adieus to Alethea. She wished him good-bye, expressing a hope to see
him on his return to Nottingham, in a friendly tone, but gave him no
opportunity of saying any thing to her alone. He bowed to the two other
guests, and Mr Harwood accompanied him to the door, pointing out to him
the way he was to take to reach the spot where he had left his horse.
"Can she be aware of the character of those people," thought Jack to
himself, as he walked on through the wood, "or the plots which, it
seems, are hatching? I wish Mr Harwood had nothing to do with them! I
wonder how that he, a Protestant gentleman, can engage in such a matter.
I hope that I shall hear nothing of them where I am going; and I
heartily wish I had not helped the enemies of our good Protestant king
by conveying those letters! Still, what has been done cannot be undone;
and having been trusted by Mr Harwood, I cannot attempt to give
information of what, I fear, is taking place, even though I might enable
him to escape. I suspect those two men I met just now are engaged in
it. I like neither of them, least of all that hypocritical-looking
Master Stirthesoul, as he called himself. I wish Pearson had nothing to
do with him. Indeed, Master Pearson evidently knows a good deal about
the plot; and I should be thankful if I was free of him also. But what
can I now do? I am in his power; and if I were to go back to
Nottingham, I should be in difficulty about that poaching affair; while,
if I offend him, he can at any moment inform against me for delivering
those letters. Well, I must go through with it, and wait patiently for
the result."
Such thoughts occupied his mind till he reached the clump of trees
within which he expected to find Burdale and the horses. The shades of
evening were already approaching, and a thick mass of brushwood, which
grew outside, prevented him from seeing into the interior of the wood.
He had to walk round some distance indeed before he could find an
entrance. More than once he gave a whistle, the sign agreed on, without
receiving any answer. The idea occurred to him that Burdale had turned
traitor, or, weary of waiting for him, had gone back with the horses.
At length he shouted, "Master Burdale! Master Burdale! where are you?"
He was at last relieved by seeing the man leading the horses towards
him.
"Why, Mr Deane, you shouted loud enough to wake up Robin Hood and his
merry men from their graves!" said his guide, as he came up. "It's to
be hoped no strangers were passing whom we should not like to meet! You
forgot the side of the wood where you left me. However, let us mount
now and be off, for the night promises to be dark, and I should like to
get into a part of the forest I know better than this while we have a
little twilight to guide us."
A ride through a forest in the dusk is a difficult matter, and dangerous
withal, from the outstretched boughs overhead, and slippery roots, and
holes beneath. Fully three hours were occupied in reaching the Hagg.
"Go in!" said Burdale to Jack, as they came in front of the old
building. "I will take the horses round to the stables; and you will be
welcome there."
"I hope I may not see any more of the ghosts!" said Jack: "I had enough
of them last night."
"As to that, I don't know," answered Burdale; "but do you follow the old
people's example, and let them alone, and they will let you alone,
depend upon that!"
Some loud groans were heard above Jack's head as he spoke, and he could
not help starting, so melancholy and deep sounding were they. The next
instant, however, he recollected the old woman's description of the
haunted oak, and, looking round at the venerable tree, he had little
doubt that the noise was produced by some branches moved by the wind, or
else the passage of air through its hollow trunk.
Jack slept too soundly during the night to hear the conversation of the
ghosts; but, on the following morning at his early breakfast, ere he and
his guide took their departure, the old woman assured him that they had
been talking as usual, making, if possible, even more uproar than she
had ever before heard.
"But what was it all about?" asked Jack; "could not you hear that?"
"No, no," she answered; "maybe they spoke in a tongue I cannot
understand, for, though often and often I've listened, not one word
could I ever make out!"