To my surprise, the two seemed to know one another, for Darrell broke into a scornful laugh, exclaiming: "Again, Master Tate! What, haven't you left this accursed city to its fate yet ?" "It awaits its fate," answered the Ranter sternly, "even as those of your superstition wait theirs." "My superstition must look out for itself," said Darrell, with a shrug; and, seeing that I was puzzled, he added, "Mr Tate is not pleased with me because I am of the old religion." "Indeed ?" I cried.

"I didn't know you were a--of the old church." For I remembered with confusion a careless remark that I had let fall as we journeyed together.
"Yes," said he simply.
"Yes!" cried Tate.

"You--and your master also, is he not ?" Darrell's face grew stern and cold.
"I would have you careful, sir, when you touch on my Lord Arlington's name," he said.

"You know well that he is not of the Roman faith, but is a convinced adherent of the Church of this country." "Is he so ?" asked Tate, with an undisguised sneer.
"Come, enough!" cried Darrell in sudden anger.

"I have much to say to my friend, and shall be glad to be left alone with him." Tate made no objection to leaving us, and, gathering up his Bible, went out scowling.
"A pestilent fellow," said Darrell.