oo, and he must
make submission to the law." "He will not," said Henry. "Then will I
compel him," said the priest. "Not out of my mouth," said Henry, "or
he will slay me too." And then the priest said that he was in a strait
place, for he could not use the words of confession of one man to
convict another of his sin. So he gathered his things in haste, and
walked back to the church; but Henry went another way, saying "I made
excuse to come away, and said I went elsewhere; but I fear my father
much--he sees very deep; and I would not have him suspect me of having
made confession."

Then the Father met the other two at the church gate; and they went
down to the house in silence, the Father pondering heavily; and at the
door Henry joined them, and it seemed to the Father that old Master
Grimston regarded him not. So they entered the house in silence, and
ate in silence, listening earnestly for any sound. And the Father
looked oft on Master Grimston, who ate and drank and said nothing,
never raising his eyes. But once the Father saw him laugh secretly to
himself, so that the blood came cold in the Father's veins, and he
could hardly contain himself from accusing him. Then the Father had
them to prayers, and prayed earnestly against the evil, and that they
should open their hearts to God, if He would show them why this misery
came upon them.

Then they went to bed; and Henry asked that he might lie in the
priest's room, which he willingly granted. And so the house was dark,
and they made as though they would sleep; but the Father could not
sleep, and he heard Henry weeping silently to himself like a little
child.

But at last the Father slept--how long he knew not--and suddenly
brake out of his sleep with a horror of darkness all about him, and
knew that there was some evil thing abroad. So he looked upon the
room. He heard Henry mutter heavily in his sleep as though there was a
dark terror upon him; and then, in the light of the dying embers, the
Father saw a thing rise upon the hearth, as though it had slept there,
and woke to stretch itself. And then in the half-light it seemed
softly to gambol and play; but whereas when an innocent beast does
this in the simple joy of its heart, and seems a fond and pretty
sight, the Father thought he had never seen so ugly a sight as the
beast gambolling all by itself, as if it could not contain its own
dreadful joy; it looked viler and more wicked every moment; then, too,
there sp