ome
bodily hurt of which he had not spoken, and the question what to do
with their helpless burden became a difficult one to answer.

"My father will not receive him," said Jacob, shaking his head, as
he leaned upon his oars and let the boat drift along with the tide
that was carrying them towards the bridge. "He hates the priests
worse than your good uncle and mine, who has something of a fellow
feeling for them in these days of common persecution; and you know
well what sort of a welcome we should receive from him did we
arrive with a seminary priest in our arms."

"And I trow the mob would be upon us ere we had got him safe
housed, and for aught we could do to stop it might tear him limb
from limb in our very sight."

"Ay, there is always some rumour afoot of a new Papist plot; and
whether it be true or no, the people set on to harry the priests as
dogs harry the hunted hare. I know not what to do. To land with him
will do neither good to him nor to us. A fine coil there would be
at home if my father heard of me mixing myself up with Jesuit
traitors; and Martin Holt would not be much better pleased
neither."

"Martin Holt is not my father," answered Cuthbert, with a touch of
haughtiness; "and let him say what he will, I must save this man's
life, even if it cost me mine own. Thou knowest how he saved me
that day in the dens of Whitefriars. To leave him to the mercy of
the howling mob would be an act of blackest treachery; it would
disgrace my manhood for ever."

"Tush, man, who asked that of thee?" answered Jacob, with something
of a smile at the lad's impetuosity. "I love not a black cassock
nor a tonsured head so passing well; but a man is a man, even
though he be a priest, and I call shame upon those who would thus
maltreat a brother man, and the more so when he is one who has
visited the sick and tended the leper, and been the friend of those
who have no friends in this great city. I would no sooner than thou
give him up to the will of the mob; but we must bethink ourselves
where he may be in safety stowed, else the mob will have him
whether we will or no. All I was meaning by my words was that
neither my home nor thine could be the place for him."

"I ask thy pardon, good Jacob, for my heat," answered Cuthbert
humbly. "I should have known better thy good heart than to have
thought such a thing of thee."

"Nay, nay; I am no hero."

"Thou art a kindly hearted and an honest man, which I misdoubt me
if