Neither cousin spoke for a minute or two. At last Amyas—
"Well, cousin hide-and-seek, how long have you added horse-stealing to your other trades?"
"My dear Amyas," said Eustace very meekly, "I may surely go into an inn stable without intending to steal what is in it."
"Of course, old fellow," said Amyas, mollified, "I was only in jest. But what brings you here? Not prudence, certainly."
"I am bound to know no prudence save for the Lord's work."
"That's giving away Agnus Deis, and deceiving poor heathen wenches, I suppose," said Yeo.
Eustace answered pretty roundly—
"Heathens? Yes, truly; you Protestants leave these poor wretches heathens, and then insult and persecute those who, with a devotion unknown to you, labor at the danger of their lives to make them Christians. Mr. Amyas Leigh, you can give me up to be hanged at Exeter, if it shall so please you to disgrace your own family; but from this spot neither you, no, nor all the myrmidons of your queen, shall drive me, while there is a soul here left unsaved."
"Come out of the stable, at least," said Amyas; "you don't wan't to make the horses Papists, as well as the asses, do you? Come out, man, and go to the devil your own way. I shan't inform against you; and Yeo here will hold his tongue if I tell him, I know."
"It goes sorely against my conscience, sir, but being that he is your cousin, of course"
"Of course; and now come in and eat with me; supper's just ready, and bygones shall be bygones, if you will have them so!"
How much forgiveness Eustace felt in his heart, I know not: but he knew, of course, that he ought to forgive; and to go in and eat with Amyas was to perform an act of forgiveness, and, for the best of motives, too, for by it the cause of the Church might be furthered; and acts and motives being correct, what more was needed? So in he went; and yet he never forgot that scar upon his cheek; and Amyas could not look him in the face but Eustace must fancy that his eyes were on the scar, and peep up from under his lids to see if there was any smile of triumph on that honest visage. They talked away over the venison, guardedly enough at first; but as they went on, Amyas's straightforward kindliness warmed poor Eustace's frozen heart; and ere they were aware, they found themselves talking over old haunts and old passages of their boyhood—uncles, aunts, and cousins; and Eustace, without any sinister intention, asked Amyas why he was going to Bideford, while Frank and his mother were in London.
"To tell you the truth, I cannot rest till I have heard the whole story about poor Rose Salterne."
"What about her?" cried Eustace.
"Do you not know?"
"How should I know anything here? For heaven's sake, what has happened?"
