HOW A BROTHER, HAVING OFFENDED, WAS FORGIVEN
I found my father sitting as his wont was in the high wainscoted
book-room beyond the hall. When I entered he looked up from a pile of
papers he had been diligently perusing, and smiled upon me pleasantly.
I was surprised to note the serenity of his brow, having indeed
prepared myself for a worse condition of health in him than Peter Sprot
had allowed. But whatever trouble he had he laid it by to bid me
good-morrow, and to excuse himself for so hastily summoning me.
"Upon so fine a morning, Denis," he said, "I would not willingly have
cut short your pleasure, and do not so for my own business, which is
simple enough at most times, as a man's should be who hath ever studied
to be quiet." He paused a small while and cast his eye over an open
book that lay beside him on the table, and I knew it to be the
"Discourses of Epictetus." A wonder crept into my mind at this, that
while the words of Scripture would oftentimes be in his mouth, his
reading was generally in the heathens, and his way of life more
according to the ancient Stoicks (of whom Mr. Jordan had often
discoursed), than to the precepts of the Church of England of which he
nevertheless professed himself a member. Such fancies however being
foreign to the matter, I put them from me, expecting the sequel
anxiously, and in the meantime assuring my father that I would never
have gone thus upon my twilight journey had I known he required me;
which was indeed true, and he acknowledged it handsomely.
"I know where to trust and where to doubt, Denis," he said, in his
quiet voice, "and I know likewise that where trust is broken there
stands occasion for lenity, though the using of it is hard at all
times; severity being more aptly come by, and by the vulgar commended."
I knew by this that his thoughts had slid from the present into that
sad channel of the past, and marvelled that he could speak so of
forgiveness where his honour had been engaged, and, in the event, my
mother's life forfeit.
"'Twas well that Peter had some inkling of your road," my father went
on and in a livelier manner, "else we might still be seeking you o'er
half Exmoor. But tell me what it was led you to Dunster, lad?" And he
looked at me methought somewhat keenly as he spoke.
"I had hoped to meet with Captain Cutts," I returned boldly, though I
was conscious of the emptiness of the reason, "and to hear of the
chance of war."
To my surprise my father appeared relieved by my answer, but presently
explained himself.
"It had lain upon me that you were perhaps courting some lass there,
Denis; not that I should censure you therefor, but having need of you
myself awhile, I would not suddenly interfere with that is proper
enough for you to consider of at your age. Well, so much for
prologue," he broke off swiftly, and betook himself again to scanning
the papers on his desk.
"So Mr. Cutts having avoided the town before you arrived," he said
presently, glancing up, "the direct purpose of your errand failed."
I was about to reply when he added: "You have little cause to grieve in
that, Denis, seeing his commission is cancelled and he to be
apprehended for malpractices of which I have here the note before me."
"I would all such villains were hanged as soon as apprehended," cried
I, in a sudden rage at this disclosed infamy; but my father put up his
hand peremptorily to stop me.
"Hast ever heard of thine uncle Botolph?" he asked me presently, and
with the same piercing glance as before.
I told him yes, and that Peter Sprot had related some part of his story
to me.
"That was not altogether well," replied my father with a little
movement of his brows, "and not what I looked for from his discretion."
He set his ruff even and took up his pen as if to write, but sat so
awhile without either writing or speaking.
"I forced him to tell me," I said, for I thought he blamed Peter for
what was truly my own curiosity.
"Tut," said my father, "'tis a small matter, and being known saves many
words to no purpose. I have received a letter from him," he said.
This amazed me, for I had thought him (I know not wherefore) to be dead.
"Why, where is he?" I asked.
"He is in the Tower," said my father.
At these words my blood leapt to my heart in a tumult, for I knew well
enough what this meant, and that in such a time of danger as now we
lived in, when all was suspicion and betrayal, few men that had once
come into that foul dungeon ever left it living. Until now I had found
frequent matter for rejoicing in this very process and summary action
of the Council, being confident that 'twas for the better security of
the realm, and deriding them that would have accorded an open trial to
all, and the means of a man's clearing himself at the law. But now
that our own family stood thus impeached, I had nothing to say, nor
aught to think, but upon the terror of it and the disgrace to our house
and ancient name.
"What is the cause?" I inquired, when I had something recovered myself;
but my lips were dry and my face (I am assured) as white as paper.
"He has had licence granted to write," returned my father; "which is a
mark of favour not oftentimes bestowed. He saith he is well treated,
though for the rest his chamber is but a mean cold one and evil
smelling, and the ward upon him strict, especially when he is had in to
the Constable for examination, which hath been several times renewed.
As for the cause, there would appear by his letter to be little enough,
save such as gathers from a host of fears, and from his known devotion
to my Lord of Arundel; which indeed was the direct occasion of his
apprehension. Of a former intimacy with that witless Somerville
moreover, he is accused, and the mere supposition of it goes hard
against him; but upon this head he hath strong hope of his exculpation,
having only, as he writes, once met with the man, and then in a public
place without any the least concealment."
He rose from his seat as he ended speaking, and took a turn or two
about the room, his hands clasped behind his back and his head bent in
thought. I suppose that never before had I observed my father with so
close attention, having ever held him (as I have said) in a kind of
negligent contempt for his mild and bookish ways. But now I perceived
a nobility of bearing in him which took me strangely, and withal, a
secret strength. His scholar's indifference he had quite cast aside,
and appeared full of purpose, shrewdly weighing each circumstance of
his brother's case, and examining the good and bad in it, in order to
the more directly assist him. This unused activity of his so engaged
me that for awhile I could do nought but follow him with my eyes, until
the vision of my father always thus (as thus he might have been, save
for that great weight of sorrow warping him from his natural aptness),
this vision, I say, so moved me in his favour and against my uncle
Botolph, who was surely now receiving chastisement for his former sin,
that I could not contain myself.
"But, sir," I cried, "why should you concern yourself for a man that
hath wronged you so basely as my uncle did? And besides that," I
bethought myself to add in order to strengthen our excuse for leaving
him alone, "besides that, there is the unseemliness of your aiding a
man that the Queen's Majesty is offended withal. It is very probable
he is implicated in these treasons, who hath brought such treason into
household affairs, and the likelier still for his denying it."
Something in my father's countenance stayed me there, else would I have
spoken more; for there is nought so easy as to persuade ourselves 'tis
right to do nothing in a dangerous pass.
"Ay, ay," said my father slowly, "then your advice is to leave my
brother to perish."
"You are a magistrate, sir," I stammered, "and it surely behoves you to
assist in the arrest of traitors."
"Ay, and so it doth, Denis," said he, nodding, "but then, this
gentleman being already arrested, it seems that my poor assistance
therein is rendered in advance superfluous."
"But you are minded to help him, sir," said I, "so far as you be able."
"Leaving that aside," he said, "let us return to your former argument,
which was, as I remember, that because he had once badly wronged me so
I should not now concern myself on his behalf. Why then do you
afterwards bring me in as a magistrate, when you have so potently
addressed my prejudice as a man? Nay, Denis," he said, smiling at my
discomfiture, "you speak for my ease, I know well, and I thank you; but
this may not be. Nor, indeed, does your uncle desire it to be as you
understand the case. He prays me here," he struck the open letter
lightly, "to gain him fair trial, if such a thing may be come by, and
by it he is content to be judged. Were it I, who stood in this
jeopardy, Denis, and not he, would you deny me your offices?"
His grave manner and contempt of the revenge I had held out to him,
wrought upon me so that I could not answer him, but going forward I
knelt and kissed his hand. I think now he was the best man I ever
knew, and one that, without hesitancy, ever chose the untainted course.
We fell to business after that with a will; my father opening with me
upon many matters of procedure at the law, in which I was surprised to
find him perfect, and giving me his reasons for supposing that my uncle
Botolph would be suffered to stand upon his delivery in open court. He
read me his whole letter too, which I had to confess was very simply
written and bore the impress of truth.
"You see that he speaks here of councillors to defend him, which is
very needful," my father continued, "though the emoluments of that
office be higher than I had hoped to find. He writes that a less sum
than five hundred pounds would avail little, which, if it include the
necessary expenses of seeking out witnesses (of whom he names one in
Flanders who must be brought home), if it include this, I say, and the
procuring of documents, that may well be, though I am sorry to find
justice sold at so high a rate."
"But, sir, can you employ so much money in this affair?" I asked, for
it sounded an infinite treasure to me.
"I think so," he replied, "though I would it were not so urgent. I
must however encumber the estate for awhile, Denis; as indeed hath been
done before by my grandfather, at the time the Scriptures were printed
in English secretly, three score years since; which work he was bold to
forward, and spared neither pains nor moneys therein. But that
concerns thee not, Denis," he broke off, "and for the getting together
of the ransom, for so it is, I will engage to effect it. Only your
part will be to convey it to London and deliver it to my brother's
agent and good friend, one Mr. John Skene, an attorney of Serjeants
Inn, in Fleet Street, who will use it, as your uncle believes, and I
doubt not, to advantage."
Our conference ended, and my doubts resolved of what it stood me to do,
I went away, leaving my father still in his book-room, who had letters
to write to Exeter, about the business of the loan. The discourse I
had had, and especially the peril imminent over one so near in blood to
us, had excited my imagination greatly; so that 'twas a long while ere
I could examine each particular soberly, as a merchant doth a bill of
goods, and, as it were, piece by piece. Everything hung confused in my
brain like a wrack of cloud, which, parting, discloses now one thing
and now another but nothing clearly, nor whole. Immersed in such
considerations I had wandered a great way, and unawares had begun to
mount the steep hill that stands above the Combe Court, and now gazed
down through the trees upon our house, which I had once likened to a
place enchanted, so evenly did all go there and with the regularity of
one breathing in his sleep. The old gabled tower, with the great bell
in the clochard or belfry beside it, I had oftentimes laughed at with
Simon Powell, as at a thing of more pretence than usage; the alarm not
having been rung therefrom for nigh a hundred years. But now the sight
of it brought tears to my eyes for the very peace which clung about it.
For well I knew that I was come at the end of my time of quiet and was
to adventure forth of my old home into regions full as strange and
difficult as any of Simon's uncouth caves and elvish forests. And I
thought of that hero of his which bade them cut off his head and bear
it, still sweet, to the White Mount in London, whither I was now going.
Then I looked again down upon the yard before the house, with its fine
brick gate upon the road, and behind the house, upon the base court
with the offices beside it, and the stables beyond, and beyond again
the green bottom of the combe and the cattle feeding. It was a fair
estate, and one that no man would encumber in a trivial cause. But
once before it had been so laid under bond, which was, as my father
said, in order to the advancement of the glory of God; and now, the
second time 'twas so to be for no better purpose than the enlargement
of a traitor. A youth argues narrowly perforce, being hedged between
lack of experience and lack of charity, but the force of his
conclusion, for this very want, I suppose, hath an honest vigour in it
which is beyond the competence of many an elder man. So I, being
persuaded of my uncle Botolph's villainy, there on that hillside swore
that, albeit I would faithfully labour for his release, as I was bound
to do, yet I would thereafter bring him to book with a vengeance. And
how I kept my word you shall see.