s," said Bartle with a knowing nod. "What's it about? If you
want to tell 'em price of flour, I don't mind."

"I only want you to say one word to either of them."

"Come, that's jolly! What's the word?"

"Remember!"

Bartle scratched his head. "Remember what? There's the rub!"

"Leave that to them," said Mr Ewring.

"Well,--I--don't--know," said Bartle very slowly. "Mayhap _I_ sha'n't
remember."

"Mayhap that shall help you," replied the miller, holding up an angelet,
namely, a gold coin, value 3 shillings 4 pence--the smallest gold coin
then made.

"Shouldn't wonder if that strengthened my wits," said Bartle with a
grin, as the little piece of gold was slipped through the wicket.
"That's over a penny a letter, bain't it?"

"Fivepence. It's good pay."

"It's none so bad. I'm in hopes you'll have a few more messages, Master
Ewring. They're easy to carry when they come in a basket o' that
metal."

"Ah, Bartle! wilt thou do that for a gold angelet which thou wouldst not
for the love of God or thy neighbour? Beware that all thy good things
come not to thee in this life--which can only be if they be things that
pertain to this life alone."

"This life's enough for me, Master: it's all I've got."

"Truth, friend. Therefore cast it not away in folly."

"In a good sooth, Master Ewring, I love your angelets better than your
preachment, and you paid me not to listen to a sermon, but to carry a
message. Good den!"

"Good den, Bartle. May the Lord give thee good ending!"

Bartle stood looking from the wicket until the miller had turned the
corner.

"Yon's a good man, I do believe," said he to himself. "I marvel what
they burn such men for! They're never found lying or cheating or
murdering. Why couldn't folks let 'em alone? We shouldn't want to hurt
'em, if the priests would let us alone. Marry, this would be a good
land if there were no priests!"

Bartle shut the wicket, and prepared to carry in supper to his
prisoners. John and Margaret Thurston were not together. The priests
were afraid to let them be so, lest John, who stood more firmly of the
two, should talk over Margaret. They occupied adjoining cells. Bartle
opened a little wicket in the first, and called John to receive his
rations of brown bread, onions, and weak ale.

"I promised to give you a message," said he, "but I don't know as it's
like to do you much good. It's only one word."

"Should be a weighty one," said John.