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Updated: May 7, 2025
"Unless you would withstand him to the face. Would you do that, Robin?" "I will do anything you tell me," he said simply. "You darling!... Well, Robin, listen to me. It is very plain that sooner or later you will have to withstand him. You cannot go away every time there is communion at Matstead, or, indeed, every Sunday.
The agent of the Council had had a couple of the best rooms in the inn that looked on to the market-square, where he entertained his friends, and now and then a magistrate or two. Even Mr. Audrey, of Matstead, had come to him once there, with another, but had refused to stay to supper, and had ridden away again alone. Downstairs, too, his men had fared very well indeed.
She was to give it to one of the men who was to leave early for Derby next morning and was to deliver it at Matstead on the road; so she brought it out now to her sanctuary to spread it, like the old King of Israel, before the Lord.... There was a promise of frost in the air to-night.
He had had an eventful year, yet never yet had he come within reach of the pursuivant. But he had largely effected this by the particular care which he had observed with regard to Matstead, and his silence as to his own identity.
"Man," bellowed the magistrate, "open the door and have done with it. I tell you I am a magistrate!" There was silence. Then the voice came again. "How do I know that you are?" Mr. Audrey slipped off his horse, scrambled to the door, set his hands on his knees and his mouth to the keyhole. "Open the door, you fool, in the Queen's name.... I am Mr. Audrey, of Matstead." Again came the pause.
It was late in the afternoon that the informer had made his appearance at Matstead, thirsty and dishevelled, with the news that a man thought to be a Popish priest was in hiding on the moors; that he was being kept under observation by another informer; and that it was to be suspected that he was the man who had been missed at Padley when my lord had taken Garlick and Ludlam.
He had avoided Matstead then riding through it once only by night, with strange emotions and had spent most of his time in the south of Derbyshire, crossing more than once over into Stafford and Chester, and returning to Padley or to Booth's Edge once in every three or four months. He had learned a hundred lessons in these wanderings of his.
Or, at least, some day, he would ride so with Marjorie, whom he had seen this morning across the dusky candle-lit gloom, praying in a corner; or, maybe, with her would entertain the priest, and open the door to the worshippers who streamed in, like bees to a flower-garden, from farm and manor and village. He could not for ever ride alone from Matstead and meet his father's silence.
He had ridden, without a word to any, up to Matstead, and had demanded to be led to the squire; and there and then, refusing to sit down till he was answered, had put his question. There had been a scene.
Barton, the old minister of Matstead; Dick; Mr. Bassett.... Their faces looked terrified.... However, this was not his affair now. As he was about to speak he felt hands about his neck, and then the touch of a rope passed across his face. For an indescribable instant a terror seized on him; he closed his eyes and set his teeth.
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