with the village, he had always been on friendly terms with his old
playmates, and they talked far more freely with him than they would do to
anyone else of gentle blood. Once or twice he had, from a spirit of
adventure, gone with them to meetings that were held after dark in a quiet
spot near Dartford, and listened to the talk of strangers from Gravesend
and other places. He knew himself how heavily the taxation pressed upon
the people, and his sympathies were wholly with them. There had been
nothing said even by the most violent of the speakers to offend him. The
protests were against the exactions of the tax-gatherers, the extravagance
of the court, and the hardship that men should be serfs on the land.

Once they had been addressed by a secular priest from the other side of
the river, who had asserted that all men were born equal and had equal
rights. This sentiment had been loudly applauded, but he himself had sense
enough to see that it was contrary to fact, and that men were not born
equal. One was the son of a noble, the other of a serf. One child was a
cripple and a weakling from its birth, another strong and lusty. One was
well-nigh a fool, and another clear-headed. It seemed to him that there
were and must be differences.

Many of the secular clergy were among the foremost in stirring up the
people. They themselves smarted under their disabilities. For the most
part they were what were called hedge priests, men of but little or no
education, looked down upon by the regular clergy, and almost wholly
dependant on the contributions of their hearers. They resented the
difference between themselves and the richly endowed clergy and religious
houses, and denounced the priests and monks as drones who sucked the life-
blood of the country.

This was the last gathering at which Edgar had been present. He had been