Robin Tremayne

by Emily Sarah Holt

  CHAPTER TEN.

  THE DARKEST HOUR OF THE NIGHT.

  "I falter where I firmly trod; And falling with my weight of cares Upon the world's great altar-stairs That slope through darkness up to God, I stretch lame hands of faith."

  Tennyson.

  Twenty-two hours of the year 1555 had passed away. John Avery, Robin,and Esther had gone to the service held in Mr Sheerson's house. Thechildren had been put to bed before they went; Thekla was up-stairs withher mother, who had begged her to remain at home. Mrs Rose could giveno reason for her request, except that she felt low and nervous, and hada fancy or a foreboding, which it might be, that it would be better forThekla to absent herself. Dr Thorpe and Isoult sat alone in the littlechamber of the Lamb. It was past ten o'clock--in the middle of thenight, to their apprehension--but there could be no going to bed untilthey knew of the safety of the absent ones. At last, half-an-hour atleast after they had expected it, John Avery's hand was heard on thelatch. He came in alone.

  "Thou art very late, Jack," said Isoult, when he entered. "Whereleftest Robin and Esther?"

  John, who had turned his back as soon as he came in, was very busyhanging up his cloak, which Isoult thought took longer than his wont.At last John came forward to the fire, and then his wife saw the look onhis face, and knew that some terrible thing had happened.

  "Dear heart," he said, huskily, "the Lord doth all things well."

  "A sure sign," murmured Dr Thorpe, "that something hath gone ill, when aman shall say that at his first home-coming. What is it, Jack? HathRobin brake his leg in the frost?"

  Suddenly the dread truth rushed on Isoult.

  "O Jack, Jack! is Mr Rose taken?" she cried in terror.

  John pointed above, where were two who must not hear that awful newsunprepared.

  "Mr Rose, and all his hearers saving two."

  "The good Lord have mercy upon them!"

  So Dr Thorpe; but Isoult was silent. Tears would not come yet. "Whowere the two, Jack? Is it Robin or Esther they have taken?" pursued DrThorpe, with his brows knit. "Both," said he, shortly.

  It was strange: but for the first moment Isoult had not rememberedeither Esther or Robin. Two thoughts alone were present to her; that MrRose was taken, and that John was safe. Now the full sorrow broke onher.

  "O Jack, Jack! our Robin!--and Esther, too!"

  "Beloved," said he, his voice trembling, "both are safe with Him whohaving died for His own that are in the world, loveth them unto the end.There shall not an hair of their heads perish. `Of them that thougavest Me have I lost none.'"

  "Who was the other that 'scaped them?"

  "A man whose name I knew not," said John. "Both we stood close to agreat closet in the wall, and slid therein noiselessly on the Sheriff'sentering; and by the good providence of God, it never came in theirheads to open that door. So when they all were gone, and the streetquiet, we could go softly down the stairs, and win thence."

  "And where were Robin and Esther?"

  "Esther was on the further side of the chamber, by Mistress Sheerson,and Robin stood near Rose at the other end thereof."

  "Was the service over?"

  "No. Rose was in the act of giving the bread of the Lord's Supper."

  Dr Thorpe asked all these questions, and more; Isoult could ask onlyone. "How shall I tell _them_?"

  The troubles of that night were so many that she could scarcely feeleach to the full. She would have sorrowed more for Esther had there notbeen Robin; and perchance even more for Robin had Mrs Rose's anguish andThekla's weighed less upon her.

  "Thank God, Thekla was not there!" said John.

  The last word had not fallen from his lips when, with no sound to heraldher coming, Thekla herself stood before them. The light died away fromher eyes like the sun under a cloud, and the colour left her lips; yether voice was calm.

  "Then they have taken my father?"

  John bowed his head. Her sudden appearing choked his voice, and hecould find no words to answer her.

  "And Robin?" He bowed his head again.

  "Perchance, had I been there, Mr Avery, I had thanked God rather."

  As she said this, one great sob escaped her and she, turned round andwent back up the stairs without another word. No one made any motion tofollow. Her voice would break the tidings best, and this was an agonywhich none could spare her. In dead silence they sat for nearly half anhour. No sound came from the chamber above, save the soft murmur ofThekla's voice, which could just be heard when they listened for it.Her mother's voice they did not hear at all.

  At last Isoult rose, lighted a candle, and went gently up-stairs. Shepaused a moment at Mrs Rose's door. Should she go in, or not? All shecould hear was Thekla reading or repeating a verse of Scripture.

  "`In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer: I haveovercome the world.'"

  Thekla opened the door while Isoult still stood there.

  "Shall I come in, Thekla?"

  "I think not, Mrs Avery, but I thank you," she answered. "She hath notawoke to the full sorrow yet; it is rather a shock, a stun, than anagony. And who is dead to pain is alike dead to comfort. She will feelit more to-morrow, and then it may be an help unto her to talk withyou."

  "And for thee, Thekla, poor child!" said Isoult, sympathisingly.

  "For me?" said she, the ghost of a smile flickering a moment about herlips. "It may be I have scarce awoke either; but I dare not allowmyself to think. I have my mother to comfort and support. If she cansleep at all, then will be my time."

  "And who is to support thee, poor Thekla?" whispered Isoult.

  "Mrs Avery," she answered, the light returning a moment to her eyes, "Hethat holdeth up heaven and earth can surely hold me up."

  Isoult said no more, but to bid her "good-night." She wondered at her,but glided softly away.

  The first thing in the morning, when Isoult rose and went into thenursery, she saw a woman bending over Walter's crib, with black shininghair that she knew could be on no head but Esther's.

  "Esther, dear heart!" she cried, gladly, "I never was more fain to see aface than thine this morrow."

  She lifted her head and smiled. Ay, certainly it was Esther.

  "But how earnest thou safe?" asked Isoult.

  "`Is any thing too hard for the Lord?'" she answered, in her soft,measured voice. "There were more prisoners than Sheriff's men, and notenough rope to tie us all together; so they marched some of the womenlast, and untied. And while we went through a dark alley, I took mineopportunity to slip aside into a doorway, the door standing open, andthere lay I hidden for some hours; and in the midst of the night, eredawn brake, I crept thence, and gat me to the house of my friendMistress Little, that I knew would be stirring, by reason that her sonwas sick: and I rapping on her door and calling to her, she knew myvoice, and let me within. So there I abode till the gate was opened;and then coming home, Mrs Thekla saw me from her window, and opened tome, not many minutes since."

  "I thank God, that saved thee!" cried Isoult. "Now, Esther, is thereany likelihood of Robin escaping likewise?"

  "Yes," she said quietly, "if it shall be good in the eyes of the Blessedto work a miracle to that end."

  "But no otherwise?" wailed Isoult.

  "Not, I think, with aught less," answered she. "They tied him and MrRose together, and marched them first, the Sheriff himself guardingthem."

  Even in this agony there was cause for thankfulness. Mrs Holland wasnot there, nor Mr Underhill and his wife, nor Mr Ive and Helen, nor MrFerris.

  When the evening came, Isoult went up to Mrs Rose. She found her, asThekla said, _awake_ now, and bemoaning herself bitterly. Yet thedeepest part of her anguish seemed to be that she was left behind. Sheflung her arms around her friend's neck, weeping aloud, and spoke to herin French (which, or Spanish, she used when her heart was moved),calling her "_Isoude, chere soeur_" and besought her to call herMarguerite.

  "I am so alone now," she sob
bed; "it should make me to feel as though Ihad yet a sister."

  There was no change in Thekla, nor any tears from her. The next day,the Lord sent them comfort, in the person of Austin Bernher, who camestraight from his good work, and told them that he had seen all theprisoners. Mr Rose, they heard with heavy hearts, was in the Tower; asure omen that he was accounted a prisoner of importance, and he was theless likely to be released. Robin was in the Marshalsea: both sent fromthe Clink, where they were detained at first. Austin spoke somewhathopefully of Robin, the only charge against him being that broughtagainst all the prisoners, namely, absence from mass and confession, andpresence at the service on New Year's night; yet he did not hide hisconviction that it would have been better for them all had that servicebeen any other than the Lord's Supper. Isoult asked Austin if he hadany hope of Mr Rose.

  "None whatever, as touching this life," was his terrible answer.

  Both sent a message by Austin.

  "Robin's was,--`Tell my father and mother, Austin, that I am, it may be,less troubled than they; for I am ready to serve God in what way He willhave me; and if this be the way, why, I will walk therein with a lightheart and glad. That it hath pleased Him to exalt me to this calling,with all mine heart and soul, friend, I thank God! I can go unto thestake as I would to my bridal; and be assured of an happier andblesseder meeting therefor hereafter. Kiss the dear childre for me, andtell them God hath given me some physic that I need, after the which Hepromiseth me somewhat very sweet.'"

  "And none other message, Tremayne?" said Austin, when he paused. "Ay,"resumed he, "one other. `Ye now therefore have sorrow; but I will seeyou again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh fromyou.'" Austin did not ask him to whom he should give this; but heshowed how well he knew, by waiting till Thekla was present before hegave it.

  Afterwards, he told them Mr Rose's words. "Brethren, the Devil hath sogreat wrath, that he must needs know he hath but a short time. Yet forthe elect's sake the days shall be shortened. The trouble shall be veryquickly over, and the joy shall be eternal. Our way may be rough; yetshall it not be painful, for we go to God. Jesus Christ hath wroughtfor us everlasting righteousness; He now waiteth to see of the travailof His soul and to be satisfied. He died for us, with the fearfulweight of the wrath of God upon Him; we die for Him, with the sweet andcertain hope of eternal life."

  So much was for all the Gospellers; but there were added a few specialwords for those at the Lamb.

  "I ask not Avery and his wife to have a care of my beloved ones," saidhe, "for I well know they will. Say only from me to those beloved, thatthe time is very short, and the glory of God is very near. There shallbe no persecution, no death, no parting, in the presence of the Master,whereunto I go. Bid them come to me; I only pass on a few momentsbefore them. We shall meet at Home."

  "God bless Austin Bernher! He is a Barnabas unto us all--the very sonof consolation." So wrote Isoult in her diary--and well she might.During the progress of the Marian persecution, no man was more blessedby the victims and mourners than Austin.

  Austin came again, four days later, with yet further bad news. BishopBonner had sent his sumner to lay hands upon Mr Holland's shop andgoods, and Mrs Holland had suffered some ill usage, because she couldnot, or would not, tell where her husband was gone. They had not,however, apprehended her; and for Mr Holland, who was expected to returnto London that week, Austin was on the look-out.

  "Isoult," said her husband to her that night, "when this befell, I wasabout to tell thee that methought I had now laid up a sufficiency ofmoney for our returning to Bradmond. What sayest thou?"

  "O Jack! how can we?" cried Isoult. "Could we leave Robin in prison?and could we either forsake Mrs Rose and Thekla in their extremity, orcarry them with us into Cornwall? But what is thine own thought?"

  "Truly, dear heart," he answered, "my thought is that the Lord hathspoken to us reasonable plain, and hath said, `Tarry where ye are untilI bring you word again.'"

  "Yes," said she after a pause; "I think we must."

  "And take for thy comfort, sweeting," said he tenderly, "one word thathath been much laid upon mine heart of late: `I know where thoudwellest, even where Satan's seat is.' God's letters be never wrongdirected."

  On the 10th of January, Austin came again, and brought some notes of MrRose's examination before Gardiner. It was plain that Mr Rose had stoodforth boldly, and braved the Bishop to his face.

  "I wonder, my Lord," said he, "that I should be troubled for that whichby the Word of God hath been established, and by the laws of this realmhath been allowed, and by your own writing, so notably in your book _DeVera Obedientia_, confirmed."

  "Ah sirrah, hast thou gotten that?" said the Bishop, who now could notbear to hear of his heretical work.

  "Yea, my Lord," calmly answered Mr Rose, "and do confess myself therebyconfirmed."

  "But," continued Austin, "have you heard that my Lady of Suffolk's Graceis clean escaped?"

  "O Austin!" cried Isoult, "tell us all you know touching her."

  "Why," said he, "it should seem to have been agreed betwixt her Graceand Mr Bertie ere he left England, but none was told save one MasterRobert Cranwell, an ancient gentleman of Mr Bertie's acquaintance, inwhom he had great trust. So last New Year, early in the morrow, aforeany were stirring, her Grace took her little daughter, and seven of themeanest of her servants, and at four of the clock departed from theBarbican in silence. The Duchess, that was donned like a meanmerchant's wife, through much trouble, came safe to Lyon's Quay, where(the morning being misty) the waterman was loth to launch out, yet herGrace persuaded him, and so away rowed they toward Gravesend. I haveyet heard with no certainty whither she hath reached; but assuredly sheis gone. The Lord keep her safe, and grant her good landing whither Heshall see meet to provide the same!"

  "Amen, with all mine heart!" said Isoult. "Good Austin, if you hear anyfurther, I would earnestly pray you to do me to wit thereof."

  "That will I," said he, "and with a very good will."

  The 29th of January was a painful day to the prisoners. Every one ofthem, from all the prisons, was brought up before the Bishop ofWinchester, Dr Gardiner, in his house at Saint Mary Overy, and asked ifhe would recant. Mr Rose and Robin of course were amongst them. Butall answered alike, that "they would stand to what they had believed andtaught." When he heard this, the Bishop raved and stormed, andcommanded them to be committed to straiter prison than before.

  The same day, in the general meeting of the Bishops assembled atLambeth, Cardinal Pole reproved some for too much harshness, thesedoubtless being London and Winchester. Of Cardinal Pole himself peoplespoke diversely; some saying that he was the gentlest of all the PopishBishops, and had been known to visit Bishop Bonner's burnings ere thefire was lighted, and to free all of his own diocese: while othersmaintained that under the appearance of softness he masked greatseverity. Old Bishop Tunstal was perhaps the best to deal with; for he"barked the more that he might bite the less." If a Protestant werebrought before him, he would bluster and threaten, and end after all infining the man a few nobles, or locking him up for three days, andsimilar slight penalties. Worst of all was Bonner: who scourged men,ay, and little children, with his own hands, and seemed to revel in theblood of the martyrs. Yet there came a time when even this monstercried out that he was weary of his work. As Bishop of London, said he,he was close under the eyes of the Court, and two there gave him norest. For those two--King Philip and Dr Gardiner--were never weary.Drunk with the blood of the saints, they yet cried ceaselessly for more;they filled London and the whole land, as Manasseh did Jerusalem, withinnocent blood, which the Lord would not pardon.

  In the same month, by command of Bishop Bonner, Mr Prebendary Rogers wasremoved from the Marshalsea to Newgate, and there set among the commonfelons. At this time, the worst of all the prisons was Newgate(excepting the Bishop of London's coal-hole, where Archdeacon Philpotand others were placed); somewhat better was the Marsh
alsea; stillbetter the Fleet; and easiest of all the Counter, where untriedprisoners were commonly kept to await their trial. Alexander, thekeeper of Newgate, was wont to go to Bishop Bonner, crying, "Ease myprison! I am too much pestered with these heretics." And then aneasement of the prison was made, by the burning of the prisoners.

  Men grow not into monsters all at once. It is a gradual proceeding,though they generally run the faster as they near the end. But theseeds of the very same sin lie in all human hearts, and the very samething, by the withdrawal of God's Spirit, would take place in all.God's restraining grace is no less marvellous than His renewing grace.This world would be a den of wild beasts but for it.

  On the same 29th of January--a black day in the Protestant calendar--Bishop Hooper was condemned to death, and also Mr Prebendary Rogers; butwith the latter the Bishop said he would yet use charity. "Ay,"observed Mr Rogers to Austin Bernher, "such charity as the fox usethwith the chickens." And such charity it proved. Dr Rowland Taylor ofHadleigh, and Mr Bradford of Manchester, were also adjudged to death:both of whom, by God's grace, stood firm. But Mr Cardmaker, who wasbrought to trial with them, and had been a very zealous preacher againstRomanism, was overcome by the Tempter, recanted, and was led back toprison. Yet for all this he did not save himself. More than onceduring this persecution, he who loved his life was seen to lose it; andhe that hated his life to keep it,--even the lower life of this world.

  During this season of trial, Augustine Bernher was almost ubiquitous.On the 29th of January, he brought a letter of which he had been thebearer, from Bishop Hooper to Mr Rose and the others who were taken withhim; Mr Rose having desired him to show the letter to his friends. Thegood Bishop wrote, "Remember what lookers-on you have, God and Hisangels." Again, "Now ye be even in the field, and placed in theforefront of Christ's battle."

  Mr Rose remained in the Tower very strictly guarded, yet Austin wasallowed to see him at will.

  "Austin," said Isoult to him, "I marvel they never touch you."

  "In very deed, Mrs Avery, no more than I," replied he; "but I do thinkGod hath set me to this work, seeing He thus guardeth me."

  On January 27, Parliament broke up, having repealed all laws against thePope enacted since 1528; and re-enacted three old statutes againstheresy, the newest being of the reign of Henry the Fifth. And "allspeaking against the King or Queen, or moving sedition," was madetreason; for the first offence one ear was to be cut off, or a hundredmarks paid; and for the second both ears, or a fine of 100 pounds. The"writer, printer, or cipherer of the same," was to lose his right hand.All evil prayers (namely, for the Queen's death) were made treason. TheGospellers guessed readily that this shaft was aimed at Mr Rose, who waswont to pray before his sermon, "Lord, turn the heart of Queen Mary fromidolatry; or if not so, then shorten her days."

  The Council now released the three sons of the Duke of Northumberlandwho were yet in the Tower; Lord Ambrose (now Earl of Warwick), LordHenry, and Lord Robert Dudley; with several others, who had beenconcerned in Wyatt's rebellion. Dr Thorpe said bitterly that theylacked room for the Gospellers. The Duchess of Northumberland, motherof these gentlemen, died a few days before their deliverance. Herimprisoned sons came forth for her burial.

  And before they broke up, Parliament received the Cardinal's blessing;only one of eight hundred speaking against it. This was Sir RalphBagenall, as Mr Underhill told his friends. Isoult asked him what sortof man he was, and if he were a true Gospeller.

  "Gospeller! no, not he!" cried Mr Underhill. "Verily, I know not whatreligion he professeth; but this know I, that he beareth about in hisheart and conversation never a spark of any. He and I were wellacquaint once, in my blind days, ere I fell to reading the Scriptures,and following the preachers. I have sat many a night at the dice withhim and Miles Partridge, and Busking Palmer--"

  "Mr Underhill!" exclaimed Isoult, "knew you Sir Thomas Palmer?"

  "Knew him?" said he; "yea, on my word, did I, and have lost many a broadshilling to him, and many a gold noble to boot. Ay," he pursued, forhim very sadly, "there were a parcel of losels [profligates] of us, thatswallowed down iniquity like water, in that old time. And now--Partridge is dead, and Palmer is dead, and Bagenall is yet as he wasthen. And wherefore God should have touched the heart of one of theworst of those sinners, named Edward Underhill"--(and he rose, andlifted his cap from his head, as he looked on high)--"Lord, Thou hastmercy on whom Thou wilt have mercy!"

  Isoult thought she had never heard Mr Underhill speak so solemnlybefore.

  When Dr Thorpe came from the barber's, on the 4th of February, he lookedvery thoughtful and pensive.

  "What news abroad, Doctor?" inquired Isoult.

  "The first drop of the thunder-shower, child," he answered. "Thismorrow Mr Prebendary Rogers was burned in Smithfield."

  "Gramercy!" cried John. "I saw flame shoot up beyond the gate, and Ithought there was some fire near Newgate. I never thought of _that_fire."

  In the evening came Austin, who had been last with the martyr. Isoultasked him if he suffered much.

  "I would say, no," replied he. "He died very quietly, washing his handsin the flame as it rose. His wife and his eleven childre (one bornsithence he was put in prison) met him in his last journey."

  "God help them, poor souls!" cried Isoult.

  "When Sheriff Woodroofe said he was an heretic," pursued he, "he said,`That shall be known at the Day of Judgment.' Then said he, `I willnever pray for thee.' `But I will pray for you,' he answered. He sang_Miserere_ by the way, and refused the pardon which was offered him."

  "Is it _very_ fearful, Austin," said Isoult, "to see any burn?"

  "Only not so," he answered, his face changing, "when you think of theHome whereto they are going, and of the glorious welcome which Christthe King shall give them."

  "And what think you?" said John. "Shall there be yet more burnings, oris this merely to strike terror, and shall stand alone?"

  "I think," replied he, "nor am I alone in my thought,--that it is thefirst drop of the thunder-storm."

  Isoult was struck by his use of the very words of Dr Thorpe.

  "Ill times these," remarked Mr Underhill, entering the Lamb, ten dayslater.

  "Ill, in very sooth," said Dr Thorpe. "It shall take us the rest ofthis month to get over the burning of Mr Rogers."

  "Marry, is that all you know!" said Mr Underhill, standing and lookinground. "You live a marvellous quiet life; thank God for it."

  "What mean you?" cried Mrs Rose, springing to her feet.

  "Sit down, Mrs Rose, sit down," said he, gently. "I am sorry I frightedyou--there was no need. But is it possible you know not, all, that MrLawrence Saunders of All Hallows hath been burned at Coventry, andBishop Hooper at Gloucester?"

  "Bishop Hooper!" cried all the voices together.

  "Ay," replied he, "or so was to be, five days gone; and this day isBishop Ferrar departed toward Saint David's, where he also shall die."

  They sat silent from very horror.

  At last John said, "Methinks there shall be some stir among the angelsat such a time."

  "Among the devils, I should think," answered Mr Underhill. "There be noparticular tidings yet; but when Austin cometh to London we shall hearall. They say, moreover, Mr Bradford shall die ere long; and, for allhis turning, Mr Cardmaker."

  "The fiends!" cried Dr Thorpe. "If they will rob a man of Heaven, theymight leave him earth!"

  "Friend," said John, softly, "they can rob the most of us of earth, butthey _must_ leave us Heaven."

  When the ladies retired, Isoult asked Mrs Rose why she was so pale andheavy-eyed. The tears sprang to her eyes.

  "O Isoult!" cried she, "since the burning of Mr Rogers I have scarcelyslept at all. And when I do sleep--" she shuddered, and turned away herhead.

  "_Hermana mia_ [my sister], I see _him_--and the fire."

  She did not mean Mr Rogers.

  The party gathered on Ash Wednesday at Mr Underhill's house in WoodStree
t, where Austin Bernher was come with news; and Mr Underhilldesiring to know all, had asked his friends from the Lamb to come andhear also; yet he dared not ask more than those from one house, lest thebloodhounds should get scent of it, and mischief should ensue.

  So Austin told all the horrible story; for a horrible story it was. Hewas not at Mr Saunders' burning, but he had seen some one who told himparticulars of it. To the Bishop of London, who degraded him, Saunderssaid, "I thank God I am none of your Church." And when he came to thestake, he embraced and kissed it, saying, "Welcome the cross of Christ!Welcome everlasting life!" And so "being fastened to the stake, andfire put to him, full sweetly he slept in the Lord." [Foxe, Acts andMonuments, Pratt's Townshend's edition, six, 428.]

  But Austin himself was at Gloucester, where Bishop Hooper suffered hispassion. "A passion indeed," said he, "for I think never man was burnedthat had more pains of death. Afore he went into the fire, the gentleBishop lift up his hands, and said, `Lord, I am Hell, but Thou artHeaven!' And `Strengthen me, of Thy goodness, that in the fire I breaknot the rules of patience; or else assuage the terror of the pains, asshall seem most to Thy glory.' And God did strengthen him, for he waspatience herself, though the wood laid to him was all green, and thewind blew the fire away from him, so that he was long dying, and had anhard death. It was a lowering, cold morning, and the fire first kindledwent out, having only touched his lower half. You have seen him, andknow how high of stature he was. But he said only, in a mild voice, `OJesus, Son of David! have mercy upon me, and receive my soul.' Thenthey fetched fresh faggots, but that fire was spent also. He did butsay softly, `For God's love, good people, let me have more fire.' Thiswas the worst his agony could wring from him. The third fire kindledwas more extreme, and reached at last the barrels of gunpowder. Then,when he saw the flame shoot up toward them, he cried, `Lord Jesus, havemercy upon me! Lord Jesus, receive my spirit!' And so, bowing forwardhis head, he died at last as quietly as a child in his bed." [Note 1.]

  "O Austin, how frightful!" cried Isoult: and though she said no more,she wondered secretly if that would ever be the case with her.

  "On his way to the stake," resumed Austin, "they essayed to make himturn. Saith Sir Anthony Kingston unto him, `Life is sweet, and deathbitter.' `Truth, friend,' quoth the Bishop; `yet is the death to comemore bitter, and the life to come more sweet.'"

  "He hath found it so ere now," said John, softly.

  "But have you," pursued Austin, "heard of Dr Taylor's burning?"

  "Not of the inwards thereof," answered Mr Underhill, "only of the act."

  "Well," said Austin, "when Bishop Bonner came to degrade him, quoth theBishop, `I wish you would remember yourself, and turn to your mother,holy Church.' Then said Dr Taylor, `I wish you and your fellows wouldturn to Christ. As for me, I will not turn to Antichrist.' And at thefirst, when he come afore my Lord Keeper [Bishop Gardiner], quothhe--`Art thou come, thou villain? How darest thou look me in the facefor shame? Knowest thou not who I am?' with a great and big voice.Then said Dr Taylor, `Yes, I know who you are. Ye are Dr StephenGardiner, Bishop of Winchester, and Lord Chancellor; and yet but amortal man, I trow. But if I should be afraid of your lordly looks, whyfear you not God, the Lord of us all? How dare ye for shame look anyChristian man in the face, seeing ye have forsaken the truth, denied ourSaviour Christ and His Word, and done contrary to your own oath andwriting?' with more to the same end."

  "My word on't," saith Dr Thorpe, "but yonder is a jolly hearing. I amright glad my Lord Chancellor got so well swinged!"

  "Suffered Dr Taylor much, Austin?" asked Isoult.

  "I trow not," answered he. "When he came nigh Hadleigh, the Sheriffasked him how he did. Quoth he, `Well, God be praised, good MasterSheriff, never better; for now I know I am almost at home. I lack notpast two stiles to go over, and I am even at my Father's house.' He wasa very tall and great man, with long snow-white beard and head; and hestood in the fire with his hands folded, and never moved nor spake, tillone struck him on the head with a halberd (I know not whether it were inmalice or in compassion) and he fell down dead into the midst of thefire."

  "Well!" said Dr Thorpe, "I will tell you a thing: I would my gossips hadnamed me any thing but Stephen."

  "There was a Stephen the first martyr," suggested Austin; "comfort youwith that remembrance."

  "Verily," answered he; "yet I love not to be called the name which Satanhath chose for himself on his incarnation."

  One thing strange to human, reason is worthy of note, as showing thegood hand of our God upon those who suffered for Him. In the case ofthe majority of these martyrs, those who had the fear of physicalsuffering had _not_ the suffering. Ridley and Hooper bore themselvesbravely, and knew no terror; and they endured awful anguish at the last.But Archbishop Cranmer, who at first held back for fear, uttered no cryin the fire; Latimer, who did not hold back, yet trembled at what he hadto pass through, died to all appearance without pain. Most marvellousof all was the case of Lawrence Saunders, the gentle Rector of AllHallows, a man of delicate feeling, who shrank from the bitter cup, yetdrank it off bravely for Christ's sake. And Christ failed him not, butcarried him in His own arms over the dark river; for no sooner was hechained to the stake than a deep sleep from God fell upon him, and henever woke to feel the fire at all, but slept sweetly as a child whilehis body was consuming. "Is any thing too hard for the Lord?"

  When Isoult and Thekla came in from the market one morning in March, DrThorpe, who sat in the chimney-corner, asked them to go up to Mrs Rose.

  "Yon dolt Carter hath been hither," said he, "and sat with her half anhour; and from what I heard since over mine head, I am afeard he gaveher to wit some ill news, for she hath been sobbing ever since hisdeparting. Go you and comfort her."

  Thekla was up the stairs in a moment; and Isoult followed. Mr Carter [afictitious person] was the clergyman who had stepped into Mr Rose'splace of minister to the Gospellers' gatherings, when they dared to holdthem; a good man, but very cold and harsh.

  "O Thekla! Isoult!" cried Mrs Rose when they came in. "Am I so verywicked as Mr Carter saith me to be?"

  Poor soul! she had been weeping bitterly.

  "Mother!" cried Thekla, in amazement, "what meanest thou?"

  "If you be very wicked, dear Marguerite," said Isoult, "you have hiddenit from me hitherto. But what saith Mr Carter?"

  "He saith that I love my husband too much, and it is idolatry, which Godwill punish; and (_ay de mi_!) I ought not to grieve for him, butrather rejoice that he is called unto the high honour of martyrdom._M'amie, c'est impossible_! And he saith that by such sinful andextravagant grieving, I shall call down on me, and on him also, thegreat displeasure of God. He saith God alway taketh away idols, andwill not suffer idolatry in His people. It is an abominable sin, whichHe hateth; and we ought to pray to be kept from loving overmuch. _Capeut-il etre, ma soeur? Que digas, nina_?" [What sayest thou, child?]

  Isoult looked at Thekla in dismay; for this was a new doctrine to her,and a very unpleasant one. Thekla's lip trembled, and her eyes flashed,but she did not speak; so Isoult answered herself: for poor Mrs Rose'swailings in French and Spanish showed that she was sorely troubled.

  "Well, dear Marguerite," said she, "if it be thus, I fear I am to thefull as guilty as thou. I never prayed in all my life to be kept fromloving Jack or my childre overmuch. I thought in mine ignorance that Iwas bound to love them as much as ever I could. Doth not Scripture tellus to love our neighbour as ourself?"

  "Ay," answered Mrs Rose, sobbing again, "and so I said to Mr Carter; buthe answered that I loved him more than myself, because I did say I wouldrather to have died than he; and that was wicked, and idolatry."

  Thekla knelt down, and passed her arm round her mother, drawing her toherself, till Mrs Rose's head lay upon her bosom.

  "Mother," she said, "whatsoever Mr Carter or any other shall say, I daresay that this is not God's Gospel. There is an whole book of Scripturewritten to bid
us love; but I never yet fell in with any to bid us hate.Nay, Mother dear, the wrong is not, assuredly, that we love each othertoo much, but only that we love God too little."

  "Thekla, thou art God's best gift to me!" said Mrs Rose, drying hereyes, and kissing her. "It made me so miserable, _mi querida_ [mydarling--literally, my sought-for one], to think that God should bedispleased with him because I loved him too much."

  "I wish Mr Carter would keep away!" answered Thekla, her eyes flashinganew. "If he hath no better Gospel than this to preach to God's triedservants, he might as well tarry at home."

  "But, _hija mia_ [my daughter]! thou knowest God's Word _so_ well!--tellme an other, if there be, to say whether it is wrong to grieve andsorrow when one is troubled. I do not think God meaneth to bid us dowhat we cannot do; and I cannot help it."

  "Methinks, dear Mother," said Thekla, more quietly, "that Mr Carterreadeth his Bible upside down. He seemeth to read Saint Paul to saythat no chastening for the present is grievous, but joyous. Anunmortified will is one thing; an unfeeling heart an other. God lovethus not to try to shake off His rod like a wayward and froward child; butHe forbiddeth us not to moan thereunder when the pain wringeth it fromus. And it may be the moan soundeth unto other at times that which itis not. He knoweth. He shall not put our tears into the wrong bottle,nor set down the sum of our groans in the wrong column of His book.Hezekiah should scantly be told `I have seen thy tears,' if he did veryevil in shedding them; nor Moses twice over, `I have seen, I have seenthe affliction of My people, and am come down to deliver them,' if theyhad sinned in being afflicted. When God wipeth away all tears from oureyes, shall He do it as some do with childre--roughly, shaking thechild, and bidding it have done? `Despise not thou the chastening ofthe Lord' cometh before `faint not when thou art rebuked of Him.'"

  "Of a truth, I never could abide to see any so use a child," saidIsoult, innocently; "but, Thekla, sweet heart, it should as little serveto run unto the further extremity, and give all that a babe should cryfor."

  "Were that love at all?" said Thekla; "unless it were the mother's lovefor herself, and her own ease."

  Isoult saw that Mrs Rose seemed comforted, and Thekla was well able tocomfort, so she gently withdrew. But when she came down-stairs, Johnhaving now returned, she asked him and Dr Thorpe to tell her theiropinions.

  "My thought is," replied Dr Thorpe, "that the fellow knoweth not hisbusiness. He must have cold blood in his veins, as a worm hath. Imight search the Decalogue a great while ere I came to his twocommandments--`Thou shalt not sorrow,' and `Thou shalt not love thyneighbour any better than thyself.'"

  "I have little patience with such doctrines, and scantly with such men,"said John. "They would `make the heart of the righteous sad, whom Godhath not made sad.' They show our loving and merciful Father as anharsh, stern ruler, `an austere man,' meting out to His servants no morejoy nor comfort than He can help. For joy that is put on is not joy.If it arise not of itself, 'tis not worth having. Paul saith, `Assorrowful, yet alway rejoicing;' but that joy showeth not alway in theface: and Father Carter hath forgot the first half. I do believe (as Ihave said to thee, dear heart, ere now) that God taketh more pleasure tosee His people joyful than sorrowful; but He never taketh pleasure, suream I, to see them make up an hypocrite's face, and fall to dancing, whentheir hearts are like to break. Why, sweeting! thou lovest rather tosee Frank happy than woeful; but dost thou therefore desire her tosmother her tears, and force a smile, rather than come and lodge herlittle troubles with thee? Nay, rather do I believe that to do suchwere to insult God. I could tell thee of that I have seen, where I doverily believe that pride, and naught else--that abominable sin that Godhateth--kept His afflicted child up, and smirking with a false smileover the breaking heart; and no sooner was that self-righteous pridesubdued, and the child brake forth into open sobbing,--crying, `Father,Thy rod doth hurt, and I have been a fool!'--no sooner, I say, was thisconfession made, than God threw away His rod, and took His humbled childto His heart. Dear heart, when God taketh His rod in hand, He meanethus to feel it. Methinks a man that can speak to one in such trouble asMrs Rose, as Father Carter hath spoken, hath not himself known neithermuch love, neither much sorrow, neither much of God."

  Bishop Ferrar was burnt in Wales on the 30th of March. Soon after this,the Queen declared her intention of restoring all the suppressed landsto the Church; nor was she content with that, but plainly intimated thatshe desired her nobles to follow where she had paved the way. The oldEarl of Bedford had but lately died--he who said that he held his sweetAbbey of Woburn worth more than all the fatherly counsels, that couldcome from Rome; but comparatively few of the Lords followed her Majestyin this matter.

  On the 4th of April, the Queen took her chamber at Hampton Court. ThePapists made great rejoicing over the young master for whom they hoped,but the Gospellers were very sorrowful, seeing that he would takeprecedence of the Lady Elizabeth, in whom after God was all their hope;and also that he would unquestionably be brought up a Papist. Duringthe last evening in April came news that a Prince was born, and throughall London there were ringing of bells and bonfires. But the next daycame contrary tidings. God had written next upon the Crown of Englandthe name of Queen Elizabeth, and no power less than His own could changethat label.

  Early in May, Isoult went alone to market, which was not her custom; andcoming back along Cornhill, she suddenly heard a voice say,--"Is it notMrs Barry?"

  Wondering who could thus recognise her who was not also aware of hermarriage, she looked up into the face of a handsome, courtly gentleman,splendidly apparelled.

  "Sir," said she, "I pray you of your pardon; I am Isoult Barry, but I amnot so fortunate as to know your name."

  "Do you not so?" replied he, and he smiled.

  And when he smiled, Isoult thought she knew him.

  "Is it Mr James Basset?" said she.

  "Truly so," answered he; "and I am very glad of thus meeting you. I cryyou mercy for wrongly naming you, but in very deed I have forgot yourpresent name. Dwell you hereabout?"

  Isoult told him her name, and that she lived near London, yet not in theCity; but she did not give her exact address.

  "I trust we may be better acquainted," said he, "and that I may find inyou (as I cast no doubt) a woman faithful unto God and the Queen'sGrace."

  The terrible peril in which she stood stared her all at once in theface. James Basset was a gentleman of the chamber, and "a stoutPapist."

  "Sir," said she, "I would be right sorry to be less."

  "Of that I am well assured," replied he. "Saw you of late my sister?"

  Isoult answered that she had not seen Philippa lately; and he, bowinglow, bade our Lady keep her, and departed. Isoult came home tremblinglike an aspen leaf. She knew well that, did his faith come intoquestion, ties of friendship would have little weight with James Basset.

  The next morning brought Philippa Basset.

  "Well," said she, "Isoult, so thou fellest in with my brother Jamesyesterday?"

  "I did so," answered Isoult, rather shortly.

  "He told me so much," pursued she; "and said he had forgot to ask wherethou dwelledst. So I told him."

  Isoult drew her breath hard.

  "I know not whether to thank you for that, Mrs Basset," observed John.

  Philippa began to laugh.

  "Do you take me for a fool, both of you?" said she. "Or for worse--atraitor? If I be a Catholic, yet am I a woman, not a stone. I told himyou dwelt on the thither side of Lambeth. You have nought to fear fromme. If all the Gospellers in the world were wrapped up in thy singleperson, Isoult, none should ever lay hand on an hair of thine head bymeans of Philippa Basset. Yea, though mine own life were theforfeit,--'tis not worth much to any now."

  "I thank thee dearly for thy love, sweet Philippa," said Isoult, "but Ihardly know how to thank thee for lying.

  "'Twere a venial sin, I am assured," said she, lightly. "Why, dearheart! James would burn thee in Smithf
ield as soon as eat his dinner!"

  About a fortnight passed uneventfully--a rare occurrence in the year1555. But as it was growing dusk on the 21st of May, there was a quickrap at the door, and Mr Underhill hastily entered.

  "Coming from the light, I may scantly see who is here," said he; "but Iwish to speak quickly with Mrs Rose--Mrs Thekla, I mean."

  Mrs Rose and Isoult were sitting in the little chamber. The latter roseto call Thekla.

  "What for Thekla?" asked her mother, earnestly. "Can you not tell me,Mr Underhill? Is there some evil news for me?"

  "I knew not you were here till I heard you speak, Mrs Rose," heanswered, in the gentle manner in which he always spoke to her. "Well,I suppose you may as well know it first as last. Your husband isordered to Norwich for examination, and shall set forth this even. Heshall pass the postern in half an hour, and I came to tell Mrs Thekla,if she desired to speak with him, she should come at once with me."

  Thekla ran up-stairs to fetch her hood.

  "To Norwich!" cried poor Mrs Rose, "what for to Norwich?"

  "I know not," said Mr Underhill; "is he Norfolk-born?"

  "He was born at Exmouth," she answered; "is Exmouth in Norfolk?"

  "Nay, surely," said Isoult; "'tis in Devon, as I well know."

  "Then what for Norwich?" she said again. "But, Mr Underhill! you takeThekla--and you take not me?"

  "I cannot, Mrs Rose," said he; "your peril--"

  "What care I for my peril?" she cried, passionately.

  "Doth he belong to them? or doth he belong only to Thekla? Let me go,Mr Underhill! He is mine--mine--mine! _Mi alma, mi bien_ [my soul, myown]! I will go, if it be the last sight of him! Who shall let me?"

  "Marry, I would, if I could," said Mr Underhill, under his voice. "MrsAvery, what am I to do?" and he looked helplessly at Isoult.

  "Leave me to speak to her, Mr Underhill," she answered. "Dear sisterMarguerite, remember Mr Rose is not yet condemned: and there is theshadow of hope that he may not be so. But if they can prove him to havebeen in your company, that hope will perish. Will you go, knowingthat?"

  Mrs Rose had knelt down by the table, and buried her head in her handsupon it. She gave no answer save a low, deep moan of unutterableanguish.

  "_Seigneur, pour combien de temps regarderas-tu cela_?"

  "Go, Mr Underhill," said Isoult, softly. "If I know her, she will notfollow."

  Mr Underhill hurried Thekla away.

  It was an hour before they came back. Mrs Rose had gone up-stairs, andIsoult sat alone in the chimney-corner. She heard the latch lifted, andMr Underhill's voice bidding Thekla good-night. He was not returningwith her. Then her soft step came forward. She paused as soon as sheentered the chamber.

  "Who is here?" she said, under her breath.

  "It is I, Thekla," answered Isoult. "Thy mother is above, dear heart; Iam alone."

  "I am glad of that."

  And she came forward to the hearth, where suddenly she flung herselfdown on her knees, and buried her face in Isoult's lap.

  "I cannot see her just now!" she said in a choked voice. "I must beover mine own agony ere I can bear hers. O Mrs Avery! he is so white,and worn, and aged! I hardly knew him till he smiled on me!"

  And laying down her head again, she broke forth into sobbing--such avery passion of woe, as Isoult had never heard before from the lips ofThekla Rose. Then in a little while--for she did not check her, onlysmoothed down her hair lovingly--Thekla lifted her head again, and herfirst gushing of pain seemed over.

  "The Sheriff was good to me," she whispered. "Mr Underhill said, `Wouldit please you of your gentleness, to stay your prisoner five minutes?Here is his daughter that would speak with him.' And he stayed, andgave us leave to speak--more than five minutes."

  She dried her eyes, and smoothed back her hair.

  "Now," she said, "I can go to her."

  "God go with you, my poor child!" answered Isoult Thekla paused a momentbefore she set her foot on the stairs. "I feel," she said, "as if Iwanted Him very near to-night."

  On Thursday, the 30th of May, Cardmaker and Warne were burned inSmithfield. And on the 10th of June, in the same place, died JohnBradford, saying he should have a merry supper with the Lord that night.

  Four days afterwards came Austin Bernher.

  "How do you all?" asked he.

  "Marry, I shall do better when I know whence you come," said poor MrsRose, lifting her heavy eyes.

  "Then I come from Norwich," saith he, "and, I hope, with good news. MrRose hath been examined twice afore the Bishop, the last day of thislast month, and the seventh of this, but is not yet sentenced. He iskept in the Green Yard, next the Cathedral; and the charge against himis that he hath held and defended in public that in the Eucharist, orSacrament of the Altar, the true, natural, and real body of Christ, andthe true, natural, and real blood of Christ, under the espece of breadand wine, be not in verity; but that after consecration, the substanceof bread and wine remaineth; and that whoso shall adore that substanceshall commit idolatry, and shall give Divine honour unto a creature ofGod. And then he was asked but one question, `Whether you will beobedient to the laws of the Catholic Church, whereof the Church ofEngland is a member?' This was in the indictment; but the Bishop talkedwith him no little, and saith unto him, `You have preached (quoth he)that the presence of Christ is not in the sacrament. What say you tothat?' `Verily, I say,' Mr Rose answered, `that you are a bloody man,and seek to quench your thirst in the blood of an innocent. I have sopreached,' saith he, `yea, and I will so preach again.'"

  "Gramercy!" cried Isoult.

  "Ay, he was bold enough," said Austin. "Well, after examination, aforeI set forth, come to me my old Lord of Sussex, and that gentle knightSir William Woodhouse, who told me they meant to see Mr Rose, and to dowhatsoever they might in his behalf. And a word in your ear: the Queenis very, very grievous sick. My Lord of Sussex, and other likewise,have told me that the Bishops _dare_ not sentence more heretics. Theythink Mr Rose shall have a lighter sentence than death--imprisonment itmay be. But until they see how the Queen shall fare, they be soreafraid."

  "They were not afeard to burn Mr Bradford," suggested Isoult.

  "Truth," he answered. "But he, you see, was already sentenced. MrsAvery, there is one thing I must needs tell you, and I pray you, let meget the same out ere Mrs Thekla come in. I am sore diseased touching MrTremayne."

  "For Robin!" she cried. "Austin, have they sentenced him?"

  "I know not what they have done unto him," saith he, "and that is thevery truth. He is no longer in the Marshalsea. They have carried himthence some whither, and I, which am alway rambling up and down therealm, have not yet discovered whither. Trust me, you shall know assoon as I."

  Early in the morning, six days afterwards, before all were down, andIsoult herself had but just descended the stairs, there came a hastyrap, and in ran Austin.

  "Where is Mrs Rose?" said he. "I have good news for her."

  "O Austin! is Mr Rose sentenced?" said Isoult, when she had called MrsRose.

  "Ay," he answered, "but to no worse than imprisonment in his lodging.It is as I told you--the Bishops dare not act. And Sir WilliamWoodhouse, being present, maketh offer (under the Bishop's leave) tokeep Mr Rose in his house, seeing he had no lodging in Norwich. Wheretothe Bishop assents, but that he should come up when called for. SirWilliam therefore taketh him away, and at the very next day sendeth himthence. I cannot tell you where: Sir William will tell none. Only thisI know; he is to be passed secretly from hand to hand, until means behad to convey him over seas. And now my Lord of Norwich is come toLondon, and shall not be back for nigh a month; in which time Mr Rosemay win far enough ere he be bidden.--Why, Mrs Rose! is it matter forweeping?"

  "I think it is for weeping, Austin, but not for sorrow," said Isoult.

  "One word, Augustine," said Mrs Rose, drying her eyes. "Whither shallthey take him over seas?"

  "In your ear, then," said he.
"To Calais, to Mr Stevens, whence heshall be passed again through France, until he reach Geneva."

  "Then I go thither," answered she.

  "Softly, Mrs Rose!" said Austin, doubtfully. "You must not, methinks,stir out of the realm; a great mischief might ensue. They should guesspresently that whither you went would he go."

  "But what can I do?" she said plaintively.

  "`Wait on the Lord,'" softly answered Isoult.

  July brought a little respite to the horrible slaughter. In thebeginning of August, came Austin, and with him Mr Underhill.

  "There is somewhat merry news from Norwich," cried Mr Underhill. "MyLord the Bishop, returned thither, summons Rose afore his saintlypresence: who is no whither to be found. Whereupon my Lord sendeth fora wizard, and in his holiness biddeth him consult with the infernalpowers touching the whereabout of the prisoner. Who answereth that Roseis gone over the water, and is in keeping of a woman. Wherein he spakesooth, though maybe he knew it not; for Rose at that very minute layhidden in the mean cottage of a certain godly woman, and had to fordmore rivers than one to win thither. So my Lord the Bishop, when hegets his answer of the Devil, flieth at the conclusion that Rose is goneover seas, and is safe in Germany, and giveth up all looking for him.Wherefore, for once in our lives, we may thank the Devil."

  "Nay, good Ned," said Jack; "we will thank the living God [this phrasewas another _symbolum hereticorum_], that did overrule both the Bishopand the Devil."

  "And what of Robin?" said Isoult.

  "Mrs Avery, I am puzzled and bewildered as I never was before," repliedAustin. "I cannot find him."

  A week later, when the dusk had fallen, but John had not yet come home,and Dr Thorpe and Isoult sat alone in the chamber, a quick footstepapproached the door.

  "What he! is the door locked?" cried Mr Underhill's voice outside.

  Barbara ran and let him in.

  "Where is Mrs Rose?" was his first question.

  "Above," said Isoult. "Is there news for her?"

  "Good," said he, without replying: "and Mrs Thekla?"

  "Above likewise."

  "Let her stay there a moment. But tell her (whenas you can without hermother's ears) that her father is in London again, in the keeping ofSperyn, my wife's brother; and there she may see him. Tell her to cometo my house, and I or my wife shall go with her to the other. But shemust not tarry in coming, for we hope to have him away to Calais onTuesday night."

  And away he went.

  Mrs Rose was not told a word; but Thekla saw her father before he leftEngland. Then he was passed secretly across the Channel, and on RysbankMr Stevens met him, and took him to his house. The next day he was sentaway to Boulogne, and so on to Paris, always in the keeping ofHuguenots, and thence to Lyons, and so to Switzerland.

  On the 26th of August, the King set out for Spain, the Queen going withhim as far as Greenwich, where she remained, and the Princess Elizabethwith her.

  The respite from the slaughter was short; and it was only the enemy'sbreathing-time for a more terrible onslaught. The next entry inIsoult's diary ran thus:--

  "By Austin Bernher woeful news is come. My Lord Archbishop, that stoodso firm for God's truth--that was already doomed for his faithfulness--that all we have so loved, and honoured, and mourned--Thomas Cranmer,Archbishop of Canterbury, is fallen away from Christ, and hath recantedand rejected the truth by which he stood so firm. I knew never anything that so cut me to the heart after this sort, sithence Sir WillSmith's recanting at Calais. Surely, surely, Christ will rescue thisHis sheep from the jaws of the wolf whereinto he is fallen! Of themwhom the Father hath given Him, can He lose this one?"

  Mr Underhill came in on the 19th of October strangely sad and pensivefor him.

  "Have you the news this even?" said he.

  "What news?" inquired John. "Is it death or life?"

  "It is martyrdom," he answered, solemnly. "Is that death, or life?"

  His manner fairly frightened Isoult. She was afraid lest he should havecome to give them dreadful tidings of Robin; or, it might be, that MrRose had been recaptured on his journey through France.

  "O Mr Underhill!" she cried, tremblingly, "pray you, the name of themartyr?"

  It was neither Mr Rose's nor Robin's. But no name, short of those two,would have thrilled to her heart straighter than the other two he gave.

  He said, "Nicholas Ridley, and Hugh Latimer."

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  Note 1. If the reader think this narrative horrible, let him know thatall the worst details have been omitted. They are written in God's bookin letters of fire, and shall not be forgotten in the day when He makethup His jewels.