uts, if they be not looked to sharply, and thou art no better than
the rest. Whither wert thou going?"

"I have told all I may, Master, and I pray you ask no further. The
secret is not mine, but theirs that sent me and should have received my
message."

In those days, nothing was more usual than for secret messages to be
sent from one person to another. It was not safe then, as it is now,
for people to speak openly. Freedom always goes hand in hand with
Protestantism. If England should ever again become a Roman Catholic
country--which many people are trying hard to make her--Englishmen will
be no longer free.

Nicholas Clere hesitated a moment. Elizabeth's defence was not at all
unlikely to be true. But he had made up his mind that she was in fault,
and probabilities must not be allowed to interfere with it.

"Rubbish!" said he. "What man, having his eyes in his head, should
trust a silly maid with any matter of import? Women can never keep a
secret, much less a young jade like to thee. Tell no more lies,
prithee."

And he began to walk towards Balcon Lane, still firmly holding Elizabeth
by the arm.

"Master, I beseech you, let me go on my way!" she pleaded earnestly. "I
will tarry up all night, if it be your pleasure, to make up for one
half-hour now. Truly as I am an honest maid, I have told you the truth,
and I am about nothing ill."

"Tush, jade! Hold thy tongue. Thou goest with me, and if not
peaceably, then by force."

"Will you, of your grace, Master, let me leave my message with some
other to take instead of me? May I have leave to speak, but one moment,
with Mistress Wade, of the King's Head? She would find a trusty
messenger to go forward."

"Tell me thy message, and if it be truly of any weight, then shall it be
sent," answered Nicholas, still coldly, but less angrily than before.

Could she tell him the message? Would it not go straight to the priest,
and all hope of escape be thus cut off? Like Nehemiah, Elizabeth cried
for wisdom.

"Master, I cry you mercy yet again, but I may not tell the message."

"Yet thou wouldst fain tell Mistress Wade! Thou wicked hussy, thou
canst be after no good. What message is this, which thou canst tell
Mistress Wade, but mayest not tell me? I crede thee not a word. Have
forward, and thy mistress shall deal with thee."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

SILENCE UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

Elizabeth Foulkes was almost in despair. Her master held her arm