s hurt, whether in act or purpose, as the babe unchristened.
Neither was his throat cut; for therein they are again in error, as there
still live credible witnesses to show."

"It boots not, sir parson," said Bennet. "Here is unseasonable talk."

"Nay, Master Bennet, not so. Keep ye in your due place, good Bennet,"
answered the priest. "I shall make mine innocence appear. I will, upon
no consideration, lose my poor life in error. I take all men to witness
that I am clear of this matter. I was not even in the Moat House. I was
sent of an errand before nine upon the clock"--

"Sir Oliver," said Hatch, interrupting, "since it please you not to stop
this sermon, I will take other means. Goffe, sound to horse."

And while the tucket was sounding, Bennet moved close to the bewildered
parson, and whispered violently in his ear.

Dick Shelton saw the priest's eye turned upon him for an instant in a
startled glance. He had some cause for thought; for this Sir Harry
Shelton was his own natural father. But he said never a word, and kept
his countenance unmoved.

Hatch and Sir Oliver discussed together for a while their altered
situation; ten men, it was decided between them, should be reserved, not
only to garrison the Moat House, but to escort the priest across the
wood. In the meantime, as Bennet was to remain behind, the command of
the reinforcement was given to Master Shelton. Indeed, there was no
choice; the men were loutish fellows, dull and unskilled in war, while
Dick was not only popular, but resolute and grave beyond his age.
Although his youth had been spent in these rough, country places, the lad
had been well taught in letters by Sir Oliver, and Hatch himself had
shown him the management of arms and the first principles of command.
Bennet had always been kind and helpful; he was one of those who are
cruel as the grave to those they call their enemies, but ruggedly
faithful and well willing to their friends; and now, while Sir Oliver
entered the next house to write, in his swift, exquisite penmanship, a
memorandum of the last occurrences to his master, Sir Daniel Brackley,
Bennet came up to his pupil to wish him God-speed upon his enterprise.

"Ye must go the long way about, Master Shelton," he said; "round by the
bridge, for your life! Keep a sure man fifty paces afore you, to draw
shots; and go softly till y' are past the wood. If the rogues fall upon
you, ride for 't; ye will do naught by standin