“My forgiveness is not needed,” Master Simon replied, “for you have done no wrong. But now the morning is at hand, a boat is waiting for you just off our beach and you must begone. Save for a fortunate chance that led the men of Hopewell to think that you had been seen on the northward road, you might have been discovered before this. But we must hasten now before the sun rises and this shielding fog is gone.” It took but little time to gather up the priest’s few possessions and to guide him down to the landing place. He and Master Simon walked together across the garden, through the winding path among the bayberry thickets and over the rocks and sand to the water’s edge. Margeret and Roger came behind, she at last finding time to put to him a score of questions concerning their strange guest. Had Roger really known the priest so many years and yet told no one? What sort of a house did he dwell in there in the forest? How had Roger ever chanced to find it, and when? “It was just before I came to Samuel Skerry’s,” the boy explained vaguely in answer to this last inquiry. “I was lost and in trouble and the little father gave me such help and comfort as I can never forget or repay.” “And you think he will be safe now?” Margeret pursued. “Ay, safe enough,” he answered, “if the ship once gets to sea. But it is of your danger and Master Simon’s that I am thinking; only the most dire necessity could have led me to bring you into such a hazardous affair. And if it is really true that you saw the shoemaker watching through the hedge, there is no knowing what harm may come. I cannot but hope that in the mist and candlelight your eyes deceived you. I can never forgive myself if harm comes to you through this night’s adventure.” “But you,” questioned Margeret, “is not your peril greater than my father’s or mine?” Roger laughed shortly and bitterly. “Until the Pilgrim Fathers learn to be more gentle to one of another faith than theirs,” he said, “my danger is neither lessened nor increased by my friendship with this priest who dwelt in the wood.” They had reached the shore by now and had come up with the Jesuit and Master Simon who stood talking earnestly together as they waited on the beach. Through the fog came the sound of creaking rowlocks and the splash of oars approaching nearer and nearer. It was plain from the priest’s words that he was overcome at the thought of what might happen after his departure and was begging Master Simon to flee the danger completely and to leave Hopewell. “You think not as these other Puritans do, good sir,” he was saying. “You are ever in danger on account of their narrow laws and your wider views. Why not gather up your possessions and your family and seek some place where persecution is not so fierce and where a man can think and worship as he desires?” Master Simon was silent a little before he spoke his answer, but his hesitation was not through doubt of what that answer should be.