And here is Walsingham has bidden me to lodge in his house, in
the midst of all his spider's webs. Do you think he would do that if--"
"I think he might have done so," said Robin slowly.
Anthony sprang to his feet.
"My Robin," he said, "you were right enough when you said you would not
join with us. You were not made for this work. You would see an enemy in
your own father--"
He stopped confounded.
Robin smiled drearily.
"I have seen one in him," he said.
Anthony clapped him on the shoulder, not unkindly.
"Forgive me, my Robin. I did not think what I said. Well; we will leave
it at that. And you would not give me absolution?"
The priest shook his head.
"Then give me your blessing," said Anthony, dropping on his knees. "And
so we will close up the _quasi-sigillum confessionis_."
III
It was a heavy-hearted priest that presently, downstairs, stood with
Anthony in one of the guest-rooms, and was made known to half a dozen
strangers. Every word that he had heard upstairs must be as if it had
never been spoken, from the instant at which Anthony had first sat down
to the instant in which he had kneeled down to receive his blessing. So
much he knew from his studies at Rheims. He must be to each man that he
met, that which he would have been to him an hour ago. Yet, though as a
man he must know nothing, his priest's heart was heavy in his breast. It
was a strange home-coming--to pass from the ordered piety of the
college: to the whirl of politics and plots in which good and evil span
round together--honest and fiery zeal for God's cause, mingled with what
he was persuaded was crime and abomination.
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