be in England; and that humbles me again. So I am
content to stay. It is a humbling thing, too, to find young men who can
tell me the history of my arms and legs better than I know it myself. But
the truth is, I can never walk well again--yet _laudetur Jesus
Christus_."

Then James Maxwell wrote a little about his grief for Hubert; gave a
little news of foreign movements among the Catholics; and finally ended
as follows:

"At last I understand who your friend was behind Bow Church, who
stuttered and played the Catholic so well. It was our old servant
Lackington; who turned Protestant and entered Walsingham's service. I
hear all this from one P. lately in the same affairs, but now turned to
Christ his service instead; and who has entered here as a student. So
beware of him; he has a pointed beard now, and a bald forehead. I hear,
too, from the same source that he was on your track when you landed, but
now thinks you to be in France. However, he knows of you; so I counsel
you not to abide over long in one place. Perhaps you may go to
Lancashire; that is like heaven itself for Catholics. Their zeal and
piety there are beyond praise; but I hear they somewhat lack priests. God
keep you always, my dear Brother; and may the Queen of Heaven intercede
for you. Pray for me."

* * * *

Soon after the New Year, Mary Corbet was able to get away from Court and
come down again to her friends for a month or two at Stanfield.

During her stay they all had an adventure together at East Maskells. They
had been out a long expedition into the woods one clear frosty day and
rode in just at sunset for an early supper with Mr. Rowe and his aunt.

They had left their horses at the stable and come in round the back of
the house; so that they missed the servant Miss Rowe had placed at the
front door to warn them, and came straight into the winter-parlour, where
they found Miss Rowe in conversation with an ecclesiastic. There was no
time to retreat; and Anthony in a moment more found himself being
introduced to a minister he had met at Lambeth more than once--the
Reverend Robert Carr, who had held the odd title of "Archbishop's Curate"
and the position of minister in charge of the once collegiate church of
All Saints', Maidstone, ever since the year '59. He had ridden up from
Maidstone for supper and lodging, and was on his way to town.

Anthony managed to interrupt Miss Rowe before she came to