None Other Gods Part 29

"Only I've just thought of something else. Wasn't one of your people executed under Elizabeth?"

"By gad, yes; so he was. I'd quite forgotten. It was being on the wrong side for once."

"How--the wrong side?"

There was amus.e.m.e.nt in Frank's voice as he answered.

"It was for religion," he said. "He was a Papist. All the rest of them conformed promptly. They were a most accommodating lot. They changed each time without making any difficulty. I remember my governor telling us about it once. He thought them very sensible. And so they were, by George! from one point of view."

"Has your religion anything to do with all this?"

"Oh, I suppose so," said Frank, with an indifferent air.

There were a good many doors open in the High Street as they went up it, and Jack saluted half a dozen people mechanically as they touched their hats to him as he pa.s.sed in the light from the houses.

"What does it feel like being squire?" asked Frank.

"Oh, I don't know," said Jack.

"Rather good fun, I should think," said Frank.

They were nearing the steep part of the ascent presently, and the church clock struck nine.

"Bit late," said Frank.

"When will you come again?" asked the other suddenly. "I'm here another fortnight, you know, and then at Christmas again. Come for Christmas if you can."

"Ah! I don't know where I shall be. Give my love to Cambridge, though."

"Frank!"

"Yes?"

"Mayn't I say what I think?"

"No!"

Ah! there was the roof of the old church standing out against the stars, and there could be no more talking. They might come upon the other two at any moment now. They went five steps further, and there, in the shadow of the gate, burned a dull red spot of fire, that kindled up as they looked, and showed for an instant the heavy eyes of the Major with a pipe in his mouth.

"Good-evening, sir," came the military voice, and the girl rose to her feet beside him. "You're just in time."

"Good-evening," said Jack dully.

"We've had a pleasant evening of it up here, Mr. Kirkby, after we'd stepped down and had a bit of supper at the 'Crown.'"

"I suppose you heard my name there," said Jack.

"Quite right, sir."

"Give us the key," said Frank abruptly.

He unlocked the door and pushed it back over the gra.s.s-grown gravel.

"Wait for me here, will you?" he said to Jack.

"I'm coming in. I'll show you where to change."

Twenty yards of an irregular twisted path, over which they stumbled two or three times, led them down to the little ruined doorway at the west end of the old church. Jack's father had restored the place admirably, so far as restoration was possible, and there stood now, strong as ever, the old tower, roofed and floored throughout, ab.u.t.ting on the four roofless walls, within which ran the double row of column bases.

Jack struck a light, kindled a bicycle lamp he had brought with him, and led the way.

"Come in here," he said.

Frank followed him into the room at the base of the tower and looked round.

"This looks all right," he said. "It was a Catholic church once, I suppose?

"Yes; the parson says this was the old sacristy. They've found things here, I think--cupboards in the wall, and so on."

"This'll do excellently," said Frank. "I shan't be five minutes."

Jack went out again without a word. He felt it was a little too much to expect him to see the change actually being made, and the garments of sacrifice put on. (It struck him with an unpleasant shock, considering the form of his previous metaphor, that he should have taken Frank into the old sacristy.)

He sat down on the low wall, built to hold the churchyard from slipping altogether down the hill-side, and looked out over the little town below.

The sky was more noticeable here; one was more conscious of the enormous silent vault, crowded with the steady stars, cool and aloof; and, beneath, of the feverish little town with sparks of red light dotted here and there, where men wrangled and planned and bargained, and carried on the little affairs of their little life with such astonis.h.i.+ng zest. Jack was far from philosophical as a rule, but it is a fact that meditations of this nature did engross him for a minute or two while he sat and waited for Frank, and heard the low voices talking in the lane outside. It even occurred to him for an instant that it was just possible that what Frank had said in the smoking-room before dinner was true, and that Something really did have him in hand, and really, did intend a definite plan and result to emerge from this deplorable and quixotic nonsense. (I suppose the contrast of stars and human lights may have helped to suggest this sort of thing to him.)

Then he gave himself up again to dismal considerations of a more particular kind.

He heard Frank come out, and turned to see him in the dim light, bag in hand, dressed again as he had been three days ago. On his head once more was the indescribable cap; on his body the indescribable clothes. He wore on his feet the boots in which he had tramped the moors that day.

(How far away seemed that afternoon now, and the cheerful lunch in the suns.h.i.+ne on the hill-top!)

"Here I am, Jack."

Then every promise went to the winds. Jack stood up and took a step towards him.