CHAPTER XXIV.

CONCLUSION.

Four or five days after the events recorded in the last chapter, Master Lucas came down into his shop while it was yet early, and sending little Peter, the 'prentice boy, out on an errand, began setting certain matters in order. Master Lucas, had, of course, heard the story of Jack's disappearance, and while he was as much at a loss as any one else to understand how it had come about, he could not help hoping that his son had escaped and was in safety. But the suspense was terribly trying; and the usually cheerful and equable spirit of the master baker was heavily oppressed.

He had another cause of anxiety. Anne had never spoken or shown signs of consciousness since the day she had sunk down in the council chamber of the convent. Excitement and grief had been too much for a constitution already enfeebled by watching and fasting. It was hard to say what was her disease, but whatever might be its nature, it yielded to no remedies, and the patient was evidently growing weaker every hour. Cicely was untiring in her attendance on the poor girl, and she found a faithful and wise assistant in Mary Brent, who left the care of her house and lodger to her sister, and came to help her old friends in their trouble.

Master Lucas finished his arrangements in the shop and sent Simon to eat his breakfast. He was thus left alone, and was sitting leaning his head on his hands, when a gentleman entered the shop, whom he recognized at a glance as one of the young Harlands, though the stranger had his hat pulled down and his face well muffled in his cloak.

"You are Master Lucas, if I mistake not, the owner of this place?" said the stranger, addressing him with marked courtesy.

"The same, at your service," returned the baker, rising. "Can I do aught for you?"

"I desire to purchase certain matters for my lady which you will find set down in this paper," said the stranger, giving him one with a meaning glance and a slight pressure of the hand. "I or my servant will call for them in an hour." So saying he turned and left the shop.

Master Lucas opened the paper and saw at a glance that it contained another on which was written, in a hand he well knew, "Read and burn quickly."

Putting it into his bosom, he called Simon into the shop, and locking himself into his own room, he read the following letter:

"I doubt not, dearest father, you have heard ere this of what chanced in Warton wood. I write now from the cabin of a vessel to tell you of my safety thus far, and that I have good hope of escaping to Germany along with Paul. I have had the kindest and most hospitable treatment at the house where I have been before I came on board this vessel, which waited for me at a place near at hand. I name no names for fear of trouble. Dear father, I pray you be very kind to Mary Brent's family, and, so far as may be, discharge the debt I owe to young Mr. Harland and his brother. Also, if it lies in your way, do something to pleasure the bishop's sumner, who treated me courteously and kindly while I was in his hands. I shall write again when I can do so safely. My love to all at home, especially dearest Anne, and also my duty to Father John, who exerted himself greatly in my behalf. I cannot now write more, for we are about to sail. Dear father and sister, pray for me."

The letter was not signed. Master Lucas read it again and again, and then going down to the bakehouse, he put it into the hottest fire. He then returned to the shop and busied himself in doing up the goods named in Lady Harland's list, and a little relieving his heart by adding thereto a large packet of sugar candy and some rare and precious spices and perfumes which he had obtained from London through the agency of Master Fleming. He had hardly finished when the stranger entered the shop once more.

"What, all these!" he exclaimed, as he saw the packages. "My mother must intend to set up a shop. And how much am I to pay?"

"Nothing," answered the baker. "Not one penny will I take from your father's son. I pray you present these matters to your lady mother with my humble duty, and if it were not presuming too far—"

"Well," said the stranger, laughing, "the younger son of a poor lord is no such great person, Master Lucas, that you should use so much ceremony, besides that we are, so to speak, in the same boat just now. In what can I pleasure you?"

"Only by breaking your fast with me," returned the baker, smiling in his turn. "My household is something disordered by these troubles, and by the serious illness of my daughter, but I will do what I can for your entertainment."

"Good faith, Master Lucas, that is a presumption easily pardoned by a hungry man as I am," returned the stranger good-humoredly; "but I fear I shall put you to inconvenience. I trust your daughter is not dangerously ill. She must be a brave maiden. I hear she confounded the priest finely the other day."

"She hath never spoken or known any of us since that time," said the baker mournfully. "I fear she will never speak again."

"You are indeed greatly afflicted," said the stranger, in a sympathizing tone; "but I hope all may yet be well, and that you may once more have your son in your arms, though perhaps not very soon. My father thinks that there are very great changes impending, both in Church and State. But these are dangerous matters to talk upon."

When they were by themselves and safe from eavesdroppers, Mr. Harland gave his host an account of Jack's escape. After the encounter in the woods, he had been taken under cover of night to the house of Lord Harland, where he had been concealed for two days. Here he was joined by Arthur Brydges, who brought him news that Davy Brent's vessel would be in waiting at Porlock quay at a certain time. The two young men were furnished with horses by Lord Harland, and riding by unfrequented roads, they reached Porlock without any accident or detention, and got on board the vessel in safety.

Davy Brent was going round to Plymouth, where he expected to find vessels bound for France and Germany. Arthur was well supplied with money by his father, and Sir John had also provided Jack with a well-filled purse. They proposed to travel in the guise of students, and to make for Wittenburg where they would be in safety.

Mr. Harland had scarcely taken his leave, when Cicely summoned Master Lucas to the sick-chamber.

"Anne hath opened her eyes and spoken," said she, weeping. "She is quite herself, but I fear—"

Master Lucas hastily obeyed the summons, and the moment he entered the room he saw the state of the case.

Anne's eyes were open and rational, but that awful shadow rested upon her face which once seen cannot be mistaken.

"My dearest daughter," was all her father could say, as he bent over her and took her hand.

"Jack?" whispered Anne, with a look of eager inquiry.

"I trust truly that he hath escaped and is in safety," whispered her father in return. "I have had a letter from him written on shipboard, and there is every reason to hope that both he and Arthur will make their way safely to Germany. He sent his love specially to you."

Anne smiled sweetly, and lay silent for a few minutes. Then she said faintly but clearly—

"Dear father, you have forgiven me?"

"As fully and truly as I hope myself to be forgiven, dear child."

"I have not been a good or dutiful daughter," said Anne slowly. "I have lived in a strange, foolish dream all my life, but I see all clearly now—how you have forgiven and borne with and pitied me all the time I was fancying myself so superior and learned and wise—so far above all the rest of you. But, father, I did try to serve God—"

"I know you did, daughter. I knew it all the time," said her father.

"You have been the best of fathers to me, and you will have your reward," continued Anne dreamily. "Father, what became of the little