Ralph stood up at once as his father came in, followed by the priest, and stepped back to the window-seat; there was the faintest hint in the slight motion of his hands to the effect that he had held his post as the eldest son until the rightful owner came. But the consciousness of it in Beatrice’s mind was swept away as she looked at the old man, standing with a white stern face and his hands clenched at his sides. She could see that something impended, and stood up quickly. “Mr. Carleton has brought shocking news,” he said abruptly; and his eyes wandered to his eldest son standing in the shadow of the curtain. “A company of mummers has arrived in the village--they--they are to give their piece to-morrow.” There was a dead silence for a moment, for all knew what this meant. Nicholas sprang to his feet. “By God, they shall not!” he said. Sir James lifted his hand sharply. “We cannot hinder it,” he said. “The priests have done what they can. The fellow tells them--” he paused, and again his eyes wandered to Ralph--“the fellow tells them he is under the protection of my Lord Cromwell.” There was a swift rustle in the room. Nicholas faced sharply round to the window-seat, his hands clenched and his face quivering. Ralph did not move. “Tell them, father,” said Sir James. The chaplain gave his account. He had been sent for by the parish priest just before supper, and had gone with him to the barn that had been hired for the performance. The carts had arrived that evening from Maidstone; and were being unpacked. He had seen the properties; they were of the usual kind--all the paraphernalia for the parody of the Mass that was usually given by such actors. He had seen the vestments, the friar’s habit, the red-nosed mask, the woman’s costume and wig--all the regular articles. The manager had tried to protest against the priests’ entrance; had denied at first that any insult was intended to the Catholic Religion; and had finally taken refuge in defiance; he had flung out the properties before their eyes; had declared that no one could hinder him from doing as he pleased, since the Archbishop had not protested; and Lord Cromwell had given him his express sanction. “We did all we were able,” said the priest. “Master Rector said he would put all the parishioners who came, under the ban of the Church; the fellow snapped his fingers in his face. I told them of Sir James’s wishes; the death of my Lady--it was of no avail. We can do nothing.” The priest’s sallow face was flushed with fury as he spoke; and his lips trembled piteously with horror and pain. It was the first time that the mummers had been near Overfield; they had heard tales of them from other parts of the country, but had hoped that their own village would escape the corruption. And now it had come. He stood shaking, as he ended his account. “Mr. Carleton says it would be of no avail for me to go down myself. I wished to. We can do nothing.”