ld-jellies, had been
put upon the tables. It was at this moment that Mr. John nodded to his
son, who went to the door, to see the servants out, and stood by it to
see that none listened. Then his father struck his hands together for
silence, and himself spoke.

"Mr. Simpson," he said, "has something to say to us all. It is not a
matter to be spoken of lightly, as you will understand presently.... Mr.
Simpson."

The priest looked up timidly, pulling out a paper from his pocket.

"You have heard of Mr. Nelson?" he said to the company. "Well, he was a
priest; and I have news of his death. He was executed in London on the
third of February for his religion. And another man, a Mr. Sherwood, was
executed a few days afterwards."

There was a rustle along the benches. Some there had heard of the fact,
but no more; some had heard nothing of either the man or his death. Two
or three faces turned a shade paler; and then the silence settled down
again. For here was a matter that touched them all closely enough; since
up to now scarcely a priest except Mr. Cuthbert Maine had suffered death
for his religion; and even of him some of the more tolerant said that it
was treason with which he was charged. They had heard, indeed, of a
priest or two having been sent abroad into exile for his faith; but the
most of them thought it a thing incredible that in England at this time
a man should suffer death for it. Fines and imprisonment were one thing;
to such they had become almost accustomed. But death was another matter
altogether. And for a priest! Was it possible that the days of King
Harry were coming back; and that every Catholic henceforth should go in
peril of his life as well as of liberty?

The folks settled themselves then in their seats; one or two men drank
off a glass of wine.

"I have heard from a good friend of mine in London," went on the priest,
looking at his paper, "one who followed every step of the trial; and
was present at the death. They suffered at Tyburn.... However, I will
tell you what he says. He is a countryman of mine, from Yorkshire; as
was Mr. Nelson, too.

"'Mr. Nelson was taken in London on the first of December last year. He
was born at Shelton, and was about forty-three years old; he was the son
of Sir Nicholas Nelson.'

"So much," said the priest, looking up from his paper, "I knew myself. I
saw him about four years ago just before he went to Douay, and he came
back to England as a priest, a year