As soon as good Mistress Darling had left the house, Mr. Clayton called his son and daughter to him, and told them of what he had heard from her, and his belief that her suspicions were correct; and that their late visitor had drawn out their opinions for the purpose of betraying them.
“For myself, I wish to remain in my house and to follow in the course I have begun," he said; " if evil men desire to take my life, in God's hands I place it, and gladly will I yield it up at His summons; but with you, dear children, the case is different. You are not bound to continue here; you have years before you in which you may render Him faithful service.”
Humphrey and Mary pleaded hard to be allowed to remain to support their father and to share his lot. Humphrey argued that Mistress Darling might have been mistaken; that it was cowardly to fly from a real danger, much more from a fancied one, and that to run away, would appear as if they lacked confidence in God's power to protect them, and would dishonor Him among their neighbors.
Mr. Clayton, though against his judgment, at length consented to let his children remain with him. They had two old servants who had been with him, and his parents before him, from their childhood— John Good enough and Susan Hobby. They were both called in, and the circumstances just become known clearly explained to them.
“Whatever you please we should do, master, we will do," said John and Susan, repeating his words; "If you think fit to leave house and lands, and fly from the bloody-minded people who would prevent us from reading God's Word, then will we stay and watch over your interests, and guard the young master and Mistress Mary from harm, as far as in our power lies; but if they too must fly, then will our charge be less, but our sorrow and anxiety greater.”
Mr. Clayton thanked his servants for their affections, but told them that he had resolved to remain at home, and trust to God's loving mercy and protection. If it were necessary that he should suffer as a witness of the truth, and for the confirming of the faith of many, he was ready to do so; assured that a crown of glory would be his, and that the cause of the Gospel would triumph in the end.
“If you can, however, persuade my dear children to go from home for a time, I shall be truly thankful," he added; "their lost mother's brother, William Fuller, resides at Berston, on the borders of the Salisbury Plain. It is a quiet spot, where Bishop Bonner will hardly think of sending his bloodhounds, or even such treacherous knaves as this Master Dixon, our late visitor. There they can remain till we see what happens. If I am let alone, they can return, and our happiness will be greater after the separation; but, if the fowlers come, they will find the young birds flown, to sing elsewhere God's praise, on some happier day; and only the old bird in the nest, who will prove but a tough morsel if they try to munch him.”
“You hear, Master Humphrey, what your honored father says," observed John Good enough; "truly there is wisdom in his advice; small comfort would it give him, if he were taken to have you and sweet Mistress Mary snared also. Follow your honored father's wishes in this matter, as you do in all others. No harm can come from your journey, and, may be, Mistress Darling has given us a false alarm, and all will go well, Though truly, Master Dixon's eyes pleased me not," he muttered to himself; "no more arrant knave ever bore false witness against an honest man.”
“May be," said Humphrey, "Master Dixon has sinister intentions regarding us, or may be not; but, on one point I am determined, unless my father commands me to leave him, come weal or woe, I'll stay and share his lot," exclaimed Humphrey stoutly.
“And so will I," said Mary, affectionately taking her father's hand. "You'll not send me from you, father?”
“Well! well!" muttered John Good enough, looking at them with a kind glance, and sighing, "It's the right thing, I doubt not; I should have done the same myself; but I would that I could have got the dear young lady out of danger.”
Notwithstanding the strong suspicions entertained against Master Dixon, Mr. Clayton hoped, however, that the alarm might prove false, and that he and his children might remain unmolested. One thing he determined, that as he had begun so he would go on studying the Scriptures and enlightening the minds of his neighbors, as far as he had the power, with regard to the precious truths they contain. This he did, attending at the same time—steadily aided by Humphrey and Mary—to the affairs of his farm.
Their spirits rose, and their anxiety decreased, as day after day passed, and they remained unmolested. Two or three of Mr. Clayton's neighbors had begged to be allowed to come to his house on an evening, when the day's work was over, to hear him read and expound the Scriptures; and then another and another eager inquirer came, till their numbers increased to a dozen or more. With earnest prayer for enlightenment and simplicity of mind, not seeking for hidden meanings, or endeavoring to wrest Scripture to suit their own fancies, they showed forth the truth. Those meetings brought peace and joy and satisfaction to the hearts of all assembled. This, too, was almost in sight of the smoke ascending weekly from the fires in Smithfield, lit by the men who boasted that they were trampling out the Reformation in England. It was the same throughout numberless towns and villages and hamlets in England. The priests of Rome were loudly boasting in the streets of their triumph. The Bible was being read at numberless firesides throughout the length and breadth of the land. To be sure, it was not read openly as now. Doors and windows, as in Mr. Clayton's house, were closely shut and barred; and, in some cases, persons were set to watch outside.
In that quiet village, where all were friendly and true, Mr. Clayton thought that simply to close and bar the windows and doors was all the precaution necessary.
One evening, he, with his family and several friends, were assembled in the old oak hall, where the whole household were wont to dine together. A hymn had been sung, prayers offered up; a portion of Scripture had been read, and Mr. Clayton was about to comment on it, when a loud knocking was heard, a voice exclaiming in a gruff tone—"Open! open in the Queen's name, or we will batter in your door!" The members of the little congregation started to their feet; some who wore swords drew them mechanically; others grasped their staves, or seized on the stools on which they had sat. Mr. Clayton stood up among them—no fear or agitation on his countenance—"Be calm, good neighbors," he said. "Put up your arms; no carnal weapons will avail us. This summons is for me, I wot; and me alone, I hope. I will open the door to these men; if they truly come with the Queen's authority, to that must I yield." The temper of those outside would not brook the delay which even these few words demanded; and even before Mr. Clayton could reach the door, it came crashing in—the open space it left being filled with armed men, who rushed forward, with swords and halberds uplifted, ready to cut down any who might oppose them..
Resistance would have been useless, for already the hall was filled with the savage soldiers, and more appeared behind.
“Yield thee, Reginald Clayton," cried out their leader. "It is thee, and thy children we want alone at present—thy son and thy daughter—all of you accused of being determined and contumacious heretics. For the rest of you, my good folk, I will take your names, and come and fetch you when you are wanted.”
“Though conscious of no crime, I yield to the authority of our liege lady, the Queen. Do with me what you list," said Mr. Clayton, with calm dignity; "but I crave indulgence for my young daughter, and beg that she may not be dragged from her home at night, and borne away to prison.”
“My orders are peremptory," answered the officer, in a somewhat softened tone, as he glanced at Mary, who stood pale and trembling near her brother, and endeavoring to avoid the bold gaze of the rough soldiers surrounding her. "I am to take you and your children forthwith to Newgate, there to await your trial on the charges brought against you. One favor I may take upon myself to grant. You have horses; let your servants saddle them; you may ride instead of going on foot, as you would otherwise have been compelled to do; for I had no orders to supply you with steeds.”
Mr. Clayton and his children drew together, looking sadly in each other's countenances. Anger flashed from Humphrey's eye. "They dare not, they shall not hurt thee, dear sister," he whispered from his compressed lips; "they shall kill me first!”
"Dear children, we are in a state from which God can alone, if it His good will, deliver us," said Mr. Clayton solemnly. "I know not how long we may be together. Receive, then the injunctions I lay on you. Hold to the truths you have learned from the Gospel. From that let nothing draw you; but if you have the opportunity, escape from the hands of these evil men. The time will come, and shortly, when the cause of the Gospel will be triumphant; and it would not be acting a wise part to throw away the chance of life, which may be employed in happier times in doing God's service.”
“Father, I understand your wishes, and will obey them though I would rather die with you than desert you," said Humphrey.
While they were speaking, the officer was taking down the names and callings of all present.
“Unless the priest gives a good report of you, varlets, remember that my next visit will be to carry you to be questioned by the Lord Bishop of London; and he is not over tender to those he finds to be heretics." No one answered; but many a prayer was offered up that all present might hold steadfast to the truth.
Finding that the orders of the officer were peremptory, and that they must set forth that very night, Mr. Clayton ordered John Goodenough to get ready his horse, and another for Humphrey, with a pillion behind for Mistress Mary.
With a sad heart, John Goodenough went to obey. He came back, however, to Humphrey, for the key of the stable; and as he took it, he whispered—"Black Bess is a fleet steed and the nights dark; few know the country better than you; with fresh horses and other garments, I will be waiting at Ponder's Heath. No more at present.”
John saw that the eyes of some of the soldiers were watching him; and, raising his voice, he added, "Keep her up well, Master, she's a sorry jade, but the only one fit to carry a pillion.”
Humphrey was uncertain whether or not he should contemplate following John's suggestion. He looked at his sister; for her sake he would make the attempt to save her from the sufferings and foul contamination of a prison. Then he glanced at his father. Could he desert him in his great need?
Mr. Clayton seemed to know what John had said, and to divine his son's thoughts. Bending forward his head, he whispered, "There is One who will never forsake me; for He has said it. Do as John advises.”
The officer having taken down the names, residences, and occupations of all the persons present, called loudly for food for himself and his men.
Mr. Clayton replied that it should be forthwith placed before them; and desired Susan to prepare such provisions as the house could furnish.
She moved about, however, without any of her usual alacrity; and, when the officer began to complain of her tardiness, declared that she had been so upset by the alarm to which she had been exposed, that she could not remember where the things were placed, and must wait till John's return, that he might assist her.
John, also, had never before taken so much time to saddle a couple of horses; and, at length, the officer ordered two of his men to go and hasten the varlet. No sooner, however, did they put their heads out of doors, than they came back, saying that the rain was coming down in torrents: and asked whether they should go and bring him.
“No; stay, knaves!" answered the officer, "and as the varlet does not come, go help the woman find the provender, or find it for yourselves; and some strong ale or sack, if that is forthcoming.”
Susan, by degrees, seemed to recover her wits; and, making up the fire, with the aid of her military assistants, a hot supper was placed on the table round which the readers of the Scriptures had lately been assembled. One by one, most of the former guests went out, taking a sorrowful farewell of their host; knowing too well that it might be the last time they should ever see him. The officer now invited him, and Humphrey, and Mary to come and partake of the good cheer which had been prepared. Humphrey was about indignantly to refuse, but a look from his father made him curb his anger and accept the invitation. To Mary, also, Mr. Clayton remarked, "You have a long ride before you, dear girl, you will require sustenance; take it now, while you can.”
“Yes, in truth, father," said Humphrey, assuming a tone of cheerfulness he little felt, "it is wise to lay a store in our insides, and to fill our wallets to boot; for I conclude, Master Officer, that the gentry in Newgate do not get over-daintily or over-plentifully fed?”
No, by my troth. Black bread and water is their daily fare; and that none the best," answered the officer." But you are a wise lad; and you shall have no hindrance from taking as much as you can carry. Put up, too, a bottle of this good sack; I'll help you to drain it before the night is over.”
“You have before you the only three bottles we had in the house, or I would thankfully obey you, "answered Humphrey." We do not often indulge in wine in the country.”
“I doubt it not, lad; strong ale is more suited to the palates of you farmers; in truth, I doubt not you'll live to drink many a flagon if, when you are brought before the Bishop of London, you stick not too firmly to your opinions, and just say an we Maria, and a Paternoster or so, to show that you are a good son of mother Church, and no heretic.”
“May God strengthen me to hold to the truth,” said Humphrey, in a low tone, lifting his eyes to Heaven.
“Well, well; you'll think my advice good when you come before Bishop Bonner, and he brings his arguments before you,” observed the officer, with a significant look, which made poor Mary shudder.
Supper over, he became impatient to depart; but John Goodenough had not come with the horses, nor indeed had the rain ceased. At length John bustled in, his dress showing the state of the weather. "It's plaguy dirty work catching a horse in a night like this; and I never thought that the old mare would give me so much trouble," he exclaimed.
The rain had ceased, the pillion was brought out, and John Goodenough busied himself with helping Mary to mount, while a farm-servant held their master's horse. Mr. Clayton would have been more than human had he not felt cast down as he took a farewell of his home, which he knew he might probably never see again.