"Mine, of course," I said, feeling myself becoming hopelessly entangled, "and every one's besides." "Thank you," he said, gravely, "I should not have liked the exchange." "Is it easier, do you think, Dr. Antony," I said, breaking hurriedly from the subject, "to fight, than to be a chirurgeon on the battle-field?" "Easier, probably, to me," he said. "Fighting is in our blood. My grandfather was a soldier, and fought in the French wars of religion. He was assassinated at the St. Bartholomew with Coligny. My father, then a child, was seized, baptized, and educated in a Catholic seminary. But he escaped, at the risk of his life, to England. In France we had enough of wars of religion. I have thought it better work to devote myself as far as I may to succour the oppressed, and heal such as can be healed of the wounds and sorrows of men. There is enough of danger and of warfare in these days in such a calling to satisfy a soldier's passion, and not to let the blood stagnate or grow cold." There was a subdued fire in his eye and a deep sonorous ring in his voice, which gave force to his words. "But Antony is not a French name," I said. "It was my father's Christian name, which he adopted for safety. His name was properly Antoine la Mothe Duplessis, from an estate our family had held for some centuries. But, Mistress Olive," he said, turning the discourse, as if it led to painful subjects, or as if he shrank from continuing on a theme so unusual with him as himself, "I understand you are accused of upholding witches." Whereby I was led into an earnest defence of Gammer Grindle. "But even if she had been a witch," I ventured to say, in conclusion, "would it not have been more like the Sermon on the Mount to rescue and then to instruct her, than to drown her? And is not the Sermon on the Mount the highest law we have?" "It is the last edition of the Divine law yet issued, Mistress Olive," he said. "And one great glory of it is, it seems to me, that it is not only so plain itself as to need no commentary of lawyer or scribe, but if we try to keep it, it has a wonderful power of making other things plain as we go on." At which point we reached the porch at Netherby. Said Aunt Dorothy, as Dr. Antony was taking leave the next day,-- "You must not trouble yourself to be our letter-carrier. Less useful men can be spared on such errands. I wonder my brother should have burdened you therewith." "I thank you, Mistress Dorothy," said he; "but it was my free choice to come. And I promise you I will only come when it is no burden." Said she, holding his hand,-- "Pardon me; but I am old enough to be your mother. Suffer an aged woman to warn you against new-fangled notions. Beware of 'light' and 'reason,' prithee, and such presumptuous pleas. The light that is in us is darkness, and our reason is corrupt. The spiritual armour your fathers fought in Master Antony, is proof still."