Page:Once a Week Volume 7.djvu/178

170 tear in her eye, and not a word to say! What was she doing? At first they said she was doing nothing: but then they could not be sure she was doing nothing; and by degrees they were certain that she was making signs with her hands, and muttering with her lips. It must have been a warning within them of something wrong which made them run as they did. Should they go to the field, and tell the farmer and his wife? or should they run to the Minister, and let him know what things were doing? As they did not wish to miss seeing the Castle procession pass, they decided on keeping watch on the path to Farmer Chell’s—listening towards the road, and spying towards the house. They did not watch in vain. Sampson came from the paddock, leaped the fence, and entered the house.

Polly had made several discoveries about Sampson since they were married, two months ago: but she was surprised now, when she thought nothing about him could surprise her again, at his carelessness about the position in which he found her. She believed he would mourn the little brother as a brother should; she believed he would sorrow with her, and minister to her mother: but at this moment he could think of nothing but the expected arrival at the Castle.

“Everything has come upon us at once,” he said. “There is news which her Grace must hear: there will be gentry wanting secret speech with the Castle; and I may be sent to London, or to York, or Hartlepool, at any moment.”

“To Hartlepool! Where is that?”

“Ay! I see I must trust you with more than you think for. I believe you are a good Catholic now, Polly;—such a Catholic as may be trusted in the greatest cause that ever stirred the world.”

“I am sorry for the rightful Queen; and I would do anything to save her from the proud usurper in London there, who persecutes us all,—Catholics and true Protestants.”

“True Protestants, Polly! How can Protestants be true?”

“Well; you know what I mean:—the people who follow Dr. Pantlin, and believe as I believed not long ago; and you too, Sampson.”

“No; that is a mistake, Polly; and I must make you understand about it now. I was under religious orders when I seemed to be a Protestant. Many are so: and there is reason for it. You are sorry for this oppressed Queen; and you abhor her bastard kinswoman—”

Polly started, and looked round.

“Nobody hears;” and as they at the same moment looked at the little white face before them, Sampson’s voice trembled, and the tears at last sprang to Polly’s eyes.

“He will never hear us more!” she sobbed.

“Listen, Polly,” said her husband, “for there may be no time to lose. The quarrel of these queens is but a small matter, though the whole world is talking of it. As a woman’s quarrel it is nothing; as a strife for a coat-of-arms, or a royal succession, or even a present throne, it is no such great matter. There have been such quarrels before in every country. It is because the salvation of the whole world depends on the fate of these kinswomen that the times are such as men have never seen before.”

“I do not understand all these things,” said Polly: “but Father Berthon says I have only to obey the Church through him, and I shall know all that is necessary. I do not want to know any more: for it is difficult enough now, living in the same house, and with the same people, when all is really so different from former days. Sampson, I do wish we could have a home of our own!”

“We will, child, as soon as we can with any safety: but you must hear me now. ‘The fate of all mankind hangs,’ Father Berthon says, ‘on the fate of these two Queens.’ If the heretic prevails—But we need not think of that; for her doom is certain. When Queen Mary rides into London to be crowned, perhaps by the Pope himself, the Church will be safe, and the happy old times will have come back again.”

“Will that ever be?”

“Yes, it will.”

“And what will the Protestants do?”

“There will be none. There must be an end of them by that time.”

“O, Sampson, how?”

“Most of them will return to the Church; and those who will not must take the consequences. Think of the great Princes who are banded together! When we hear of this poor Queen of Scots being forlorn and weak in the hands of her proud kinswoman, we must remember that it is Elizabeth who is forlorn and weak. Except the traders in the Low Countries, she has few friends; and she will have fewer before another year; for the Pope’s ban will come out by Christmas, they say. Queen Mary has the French Court with her, and nearly all France; and the great great sovereign—”

“The Pope?”

“The Pope, of course; but the great, rich, pious, powerful prince—.”

“Philip of Spain, you mean. But is he not cruel? And does not he talk sometimes of invading us?”

“Hush!” said Sampson, afraid that his own ears should hear such words. “Not us! He may, and France may, invade England; but not you and me. All good Catholics will be safe. Now, this brings me to what you must hear,—somewhat sooner than I intended. I will show you how safe you and I shall be whenever the Catholics come. Look here!”

And Sampson drew from a concealed pocket in his dress a small leather case, in which there was a silver medal, like some which were given as prizes to improvers of the arts of manufacture on the Continent. It would be supposed by a stranger that Sampson had been distinguished as a silk-weaver; and Polly now asked why she had never seen this medal before. Sampson, however, showed her the reason why. The medal could be opened; and fixed within it was a slip of parchment, exhibiting a device in colours known to every priest, and to all orthodox political leaders of the time.

“It is my master’s device and signature,” whispered Sampson. “Yes, the great Philip of Spain is my master. I am here as his servant.”