“I’faith, I owe thee a deep debt of thanks, good Bernard,” he added, “and not in this matter only, but in respect to thy service to Mistress de Neville. From all I have heard, I know it was thee, more than my right worthy friend Sir Walter, that finally set Sir Edgar at liberty. Prithee, how didst thou compass it?” “I had done some service to my Lord Treasurer,” replied Bernard, “and I revealed to him the whole business. He threatened me at first; but for my service sake, and because he had hushed all inquiry, he let me go free.” “Yet is he esteemed marvellous strict in matters of law,” observed Hildebrand. “And so is he,” answered Bernard. “When he had extended me pardon, I told him the sad outlines of thy history; and, I promise thee, he straight set the _Concealers_, who have been very active of late, to inquire into Shedlock’s title to Clifford Place.” “How accountedst thou to him for Shedlock’s possession?” inquired Hildebrand. “With the true narration!” answered Bernard. “I told him that, in the days of Popish Mary, Shedlock was thy father’s steward; and that thy father and his house were of the church of God. Then set I forth how Shedlock, like a second Judas, joined himself with the persecutors; how he bargained with them for thy father’s life; and how his treachery was requited with thy father’s land. Further, I discovered to him, what he knew already, how our sweet sovereign’s revival of the faith had made Shedlock repent, and turned him into a Puritan.” “Oh, Bernard, how can I ever requite thee?” cried Hildebrand, seizing his hand, and grasping it earnestly. “Should we get the land, ’twill be my first joy to see thee lord of it; and my children, an’ I ever have any, shall hold thee as their father.” “Wilt thou wed, then?” inquired Bernard, at the same time looking steadfastly in his face. “I fear to tell thee,” answered Hildebrand. “No, no!” cried Bernard, shaking his head mournfully, “I will avenge no more! The Lord hath visited his servant; and my heart, which used to burn so, as if the memories of martyrdoms were themselves fires, hath won the refreshing savour of peace. Thou shalt have her!” “Who?” cried Hildebrand. “Evaline de Neville?” “Even so,” answered Bernard. Hildebrand was silent for a brief space. His joy arrested his speech; for in Bernard’s assent to his marriage with Evaline, he conceived that the greatest obstacle to their union, even at an early period, was now removed. Yet, at that very moment, events were in progress, in the hidden course of Providence, which were to render all his hopes a perfect mockery. When he was sufficiently composed to speak, he failed not to reveal to Bernard, without disguise or reservation, all that was passing in his heart. Bernard entered into his every sympathy; and thus, though they were only speculating on the future, the time passed in the liveliest intercourse, till Hildebrand rose to depart.