And then at last they began to speak of Mary in Fotheringay and at that
a maid came in to say that it was eight o'clock, and would his Reverence
come up, as a few had to travel home that night and to come again next
day....
* * * * *
It was after nine o'clock before he came downstairs again, to find the
gentlefolk alone in the little parlour that opened from the hall. It
gave him a strange thrill of pleasure to see them there in the
firelight; the four of them only--Mr. John in the midst, with the three
ladies; and an empty chair waiting for the priest. He would hear their
confessions presently when the servants were gone to bed. A great mug of
warm ale stood by his place, to comfort him after his long ride and his
spiritual labours.
Mr. John told him first the news of his own son, as was his duty to do;
and he told it without bitterness, in a level voice, leaning his cheek
on his hand.
It appeared that Mr. Thomas still passed for a Catholic among the
simpler folk; but with none else. All the great houses round about had
the truth as an open secret; and their doors were closed to him; neither
had any priest been near him, since the day when Mr. Simpson met him
alone on the moors and spoke to him of his soul. Even then Mr. Thomas
had blustered and declared that there was no truth in the tale; and had
so ridden away at last, saying that such pestering was enough to make a
man lose his religion altogether.
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