the fellow, "it doth not appear to me that
I am doing right. Queen Bess--God bless her!--lives in the hearts of
us all. Why should I work her a mischief in order to advance the King
of Spain, whom we cannot but hate? Now, I bethink me, I have sworn to
serve my Queen, but I have given no oath of fealty to the Pope. And as
for your religion, well, I am in most ways of one mind with you, and I
think these Protestants to be no better than heretics. Master Basil,
whose learning is wonderful, did persuade me for the nonce that my duty
lay along the path you are treading; but my mind misgives me woefully,
and I cannot see that it is an honest thing to work in secret against
the whole body of my fellow-countrymen."

Jerome's face had darkened, and Basil's lips were working evilly.

"But the whole body of thy fellow-countrymen are wrong!" he hissed.
"God hath delivered them and their country into the hands of his
faithful servant Philip."

"Then why doth Admiral Drake thrash the sailors of Philip whenever he
meets them? God surely only fights for the right!" replied the
forester.

This was a facer for the ex-priest, and ere he could frame a retort
Jerome took up the matter again. "Thou hast said that thou art willing
to keep thine oath."

"Not _willing_, but I will not willingly break it. My heart is no
longer in the enterprise. I shall be ashamed to look my neighbours in
the face. I shall fear their glances and despise myself. When the
pinch comes, I may turn coward and do nothing. The whisper of
conscience is more terrible than the roar of a lion. What will it
avail you to look for help to such a one as I?"

"If I release thee--?"

"My lips are sealed. I have learned your plans, but I am honest with
you. Be honest with me, and men shall tear out my tongue before I will
speak a word of you or your plot."

Jerome sat silent for a few moments. Suddenly he started up.

"Thou art an honest fellow," he exclaimed, "and I believe thee.
Half-hearted men are useless to me. Thou art released from thine oath.
Go!"

Basil started to protest, but his leader placed his hand on his lips.
The forester went out, feeling as though a mountain had been lifted
from his shoulders. He disappeared at a turn in the lane. Then Jerome
spoke. "Thou art our lay-brother, Basil. That man must not cross the
river."

Basil nodded and went out. Whilst Jerome yet watched him, slipping
from cover to cover, the farmer re-entere