try again; and we who live beside this great river, and mingle with those who come from beyond the seas, do see and hear many things that others would not know.  There have been comings and goings of late that I have not liked.  It may be that mine eyes have played me false, but methought one dark night I saw a figure strangely like Father Urban land at the wharf, and he was incontinently joined by Walter Cole, who took him hastily and secretly away.”

Cuthbert started slightly, and Jacob continued: 

“And yet when I whispered a question to Walter a few days later concerning the priest, of whose welfare I have asked from time to time since I had a hand in his rescue, he told me that he was still beyond the seas, and that it was not like he would ever set foot on English soil again.”

Cuthbert was silent.  But he presently asked a question.

“But who is this Father Urban? and why should his appearance mean aught, or disturb thee?”

“Father Urban is a Jesuit, and one of those they call seminary priests, and all such are held in detestation and suspicion above all other Papists.  When men lay hands on them they show them scant mercy.  It is a saying in this land that when treason and murder and wickedness is abroad, a seminary priest is sure to be the leading spirit.  When those two last plots were hatching, this Father Urban was in the country.  He has returned now, and many men are looking abroad with fear, wondering how soon the calm will be interrupted.  I like it not; I like it not; and I caution thee to keep away from yon house, and to have no dealings with the Papists.  They be treacherous friends as well as wily foes.  It were best and safest for thee to keep away from all such.  Thou art not one of them; why shouldest thou consort with them?”

“I do not consort with them,” answered Cuthbert; “but I have none of thy hatred for the name, and these men have been kind and friendly to me.  I owe much to the lessons Anthony Cole has taught me.  I have no knowledge of their secrets, but I cannot see why I may not speak a friendly word with them; even my uncle does that.”

“Ay, but he goes not to their house—­and his name is not Trevlyn.”

“But what of that? the Trevlyns are now a stanch family, in favour with the King and his counsellors.”

“Ay, but the name is not forgotten in many quarters as belonging to a race of persecuting Papists.  It takes long for old memories to die out.  Thou hadst better take heed, Cuthbert.  A whisper against thee would soon spread and take root.  I prithee meddle not in such matters, lest some ill befall thee!”