CHAPTER ELEVEN.
HOPE DEFERRED.
"Ah, would we but only leave All things to our Father! Would we only cease to grieve, Wait His mercy rather! Meek resigning childish choice, Graceless, thankless pressing-- Listen for His gentle voice, `Child, receive this blessing!' Faithless, foolish hearts! see you Seeds' earth-hidden growing? What our God for us will do, He Himself is knowing."
It was on the 4th of November 1555, that Annis Holland came home fromSpain. Queen Juana was dead, and she had no longer any tie to a countryin which she had certainly not been happy.
"Please it you, Mistress!" said Ursula's voice at the chamber door,where Isoult sat sewing.
"Well, Ursula?" replied her mistress.
"Mistress Holland would have speech of you, Mistress," said she.
Of course Isoult supposed her visitor to be Roger Holland's wife, andthanked God in her heart that she was better off than Bessy; but shecame down into the chamber--not to see Bessy. On another face her eyeslighted, and a cry of gladness broke from her.
"What, Annis!"
When the first welcomings were over, and they sat down again, Isoultthought she saw a grave, sad look on Annis' face that was not wont to bethere.
"I trusted to have seen thee home ere this, dear Annis," she said, "forwe heard that the Queen thy mistress was dead, and I thought thouwouldst not be like to tarry yonder."
"Ay," she said, sadly. "She is gone to God; and laud be to Him for it!No, Isoult, I had no mind to abide there."
She shuddered, as with very horror, so that Isoult answered--"Methinks,sweet heart, thy Lord Marquis of Denia could be no worser than BishopGardiner."
"There be eviller things in Spain than even he is," said she, and shookher head.
"And where wilt thou go, Annis?" asked Isoult, "for my Lady's Grace ofSuffolk is out of this kingdom. I would have loved dearly to have theehither till thou mightest fit thyself with a service, but verily all mychambers be full filled, and I would not lodge thee in the nursery,where be already Esther and the childre, except for a short space."
A little smile played about the lips of Annis.
"Isoult," she said, "after all I have said and writ touching Spain (andin good sooth may yet say and write), I fear thou shalt think me amarvellous contrarious maid, if I own to thee that I am about to wed aSpanish gentleman."
"Well," answered her friend, "that hangeth upon the Spanish gentleman'sparticular."
"Truth," replied she; "and if I did not verily believe the grace of Godto be in his heart, trust me, Isoult, I would never have him."
"But wilt thou, then, go back to dwell in Spain?"
"God forbid!" cried she, heartily.
"I am afeard, sweet heart," suggested Isoult, "thou shalt find thiscountry little better. There be nigh every week burnings some whither."
"O Isoult, Isoult!" cried she, vehemently. "There may be any thing ofhorrible and evil; but that all were not so much as worthy to be castinto the scale against the Inquisition!"
"Well," said she, "I have not dwelt there as thou hast; but I have dwelthere these last three years, the which thou hast not. But who, prithee,is thy servant [suitor]? He is not in the King's house, trow?"
"No, nor like to be," said Annis. "It is Don Juan de Alameda, brother'sson to Dona Isabel, of whom I writ to thee."
"Thou wrotest marvellous little to me, Annis," said Isoult, smilingly.
"Nay, I writ twice in every year, as I promised," answered she.
"Then know thou," said Isoult, "that I never had those thy letters,saving two, which were (as I judge) the first thou didst write, and oneother, two years gone or more, writ on the 14th day of August."
"I writ thee three beside them," answered she. "I suppose they werelost at sea, or maybe they lie in the coffers of the Inquisition. Anyway, let them be now. I thank God I am come safe out of that land,where, if any whither, Satan hath his throne."
"Then," said Dr Thorpe, who had come in while she was speaking, "he musthave two; for I am assured there is one set up at Westminster, nor is heoft away from it."
Annis passed the rest of the day with Isoult, and Don Juan came in theevening to escort her to the inn where she was staying.
"I must needs allow Don Juan a very proper gentleman, and right fair inhis ways; but I would Annis' husband had been an Englishman. I feel notto trust any Spaniard at all," said Isoult, after Annis was gone.
"Why," said Marguerite Rose, "they are like us women. Some of the goodones may be very good; but all the bad ones be very bad indeed."
Austin Bernher brought full news of the death of Ridley and Latimer.Isoult asked especially "if they had great suffering, and if they abodefirm in the truth."
"To the abiding firm," said he, "yea, firm as the Mount Zion, thatstandeth fast for ever. For the suffering, it seemed me that my dearmaster suffered nothing at all, but with Dr Ridley (I sorrow to say it)it was far otherwise. But hearken, and you shall wit all.
"The night afore they suffered, Dr Ridley was very pleasant at supper,and bade them all that were at the table to his wedding; `for,' saithhe, `I must be married to-morrow. And though my breakfast be somewhatsharp and painful, yet I am sure my supper shall be more pleasant andsweet.' Then saith Mr Shipside, his brother [Note 1], `I will bide withyou this night.' `Nay,' answered he, `not so, for I mean to go to bed,and sleep as quietly as ever I did in my life.'
"The stake was made ready on the north side of the town, in thetown-ditch, over against Balliol College; and my Lord Williams of Thamehad the ordering thereof. As Dr Ridley passed Bocardo, he looked up,thinking to have seen my Lord Archbishop at the glass-window; but theyhad provided against that, by busying him in disputation with a Spanishfriar. Then Dr Ridley, looking back, espied my master coming after.`Oh!' saith he, `be you there?'--`Yea,' saith my master; `have after asfast as I can follow.' So when they came to the stake, Dr Ridleyembraced him, saying, `Brother, be of good heart, for God will eitherassuage the fury of the flame, or else strengthen us to abide it.' Thenthey knelt and prayed; and after, talked a little to each other, butwhat they said none heard. Dr Smith [Robert Smith, a renegade fromLutheranism] preached the sermon, from `Though I give my body to beburned,' and so forth, but his discourse lasted but a few minutes, andwas nought save railing against heretics. Then Dr Ridley entreated ofmy Lord Williams leave of speech; which he would have given, but MrVice-Chancellor and the bailiffs would not suffer it, only that theymight speak if they would recant, Dr Ridley cried then, `I will neverdeny my Lord Christ!' and arising from his knees, he cried again with aloud voice, `Well, then, I commit our cause to Almighty God, who shallindifferently judge all.' Whereto my master added his old posy [motto,maxim], `Well, there is nothing hid but it shall be opened.' So thatafter they made them ready, and were fastened to the stake; and MrShipside brought two bags of gunpowder and tied around their necks.Then they brought a lighted faggot, and laid it at Dr Ridley's feet.Then said my master, `Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play theman; we shall this day light such a candle, by God's grace, in England,as I trust shall never be put out.'
"When Dr Ridley saw the fire flaming up towards him, he cried, with awondrous loud voice, `Into Thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit!' Andoft afterwards, `Lord, Lord, receive my spirit!' My master, on theother side, did as vehemently cry, `O Father of Heaven, receive mysoul!' Who [Latimer] received the flame as it were embracing it, andafter he had stroked his face, and bathed his hands a little in thefire, soon died, to the sight of all present having no pain. DrRidley's suffering, on the contrary side, was fearful, and only tocompare with Bishop Hooper. Ask me not to say more touching it. But atlast the flame reached the gunpowder, and after that he was seen to stirno more, only to fall down at Mr Latimer's feet. I will but say more,that hundreds of them which saw the sight shed tears thereover."
No one spoke when Austin ended.
At last, John said softly, "`Never to be put out!' Lord, grant thisword of
Thy martyr, and let that bright lamp lighted unto Thee givelight for ever!"
Three hundred years have run out since that dread October day, when thecandle was lighted at Oxford which should never be put out. And put outit has never been. Satan and all his angels may blow against it, butGod holds it in the hollow of His hand, and there it is safe.
Yet there is a word of warning, as well as a word of hope. To theChurch at Ephesus saith our Lord, "I know thy works,"--yea, "and thylabour,"--yea, "and thy patience, and how thou canst not bear them whichare evil; and thou hast tried them which say they are apostles, and arenot, and hast found them liars; and hast borne, and hast patience, andfor my name's sake hast laboured, and hast not fainted." Can more thanthis be said to our Church? Nay, can all this be said to her? Godgrant it. "Nevertheless"--nevertheless!--"I have somewhat against thee,because thou hast left thy first love." O Lord, how tenderly Thoudealest! Not "left thy love:" it was not so bad as that. Yet see howHe notes the leaving of the _first_ love! A little colder; a littledeader; a little less ready to put on the coat, to defile the feet, torise and open to the Beloved. Only a little; but how that littlegrieves His heart, who hath never left His first love. And what is theend? "I will come unto thee quickly, and will remove thy candlestickout of his place, except thou repent."
"O earth," and O England, "hear the word of the Lord!" Art thou yetwarm in thy first love? Has there been no looking back to Sodom, nolonging for the flesh-pots of Egypt, no eyes wandering toward the houseof Baal? God grant that thou mayest not lose thy candle! It waswrought of blood and in tears: is it a light thing that thou shouldstlet it be put out?
One night in November came in Mr Underhill, and an hour after him, MrFerris.
"Welcome, George!" said Mr Underhill. "Any news abroad?"
"Have you heard none to-night?" said he.
"Not so much as would go by the eye of a needle," he answered. "Isthere tidings?"
"The Bishop of Winchester is dead."
Mr Underhill sprang to his feet with a cry of exultation.
"`Glory to God in the highest!' yea, I might go further--`on earthpeace!' Jack, let us sing the _Te Deum_."
"Not in my house," said John, quietly.
"Thou recreant faint-heart! What meanest?"
"I am ready enough to sing the _Te Deum_, Ned," pursued John, "but notfor so terrible a thing as the casting of that poor sinner, with theblood of God's saints red upon his soul, into the lake that burneth withfire and brimstone."
"How can you stay to think of it?" cried Mr Underhill in his ringingvoice. "Is that blood even now not crying unto God? Are Rogers andBradford, are Ridley and Latimer, yet avenged? Shall not the saintswash their feet _in_ the blood of the ungodly? Yea, let them fall, andnever rise up again! Shall we be thus slack to praise God for freedom?"
"Wait till we are free," said John, drily.
"And moderate your voice, Ned Underhill," added Mr Ferris, "if you wouldbe free long."
Mr Underhill laid his hands upon John's shoulders.
"Look me in the face, John Avery," answered he, "and tell me what youmean. Think you this great palace of cruelty and injustice built up byhim shall not crumble to dust along with Stephen Gardiner?"
"I doubt it very greatly," he replied.
"Assuredly not," said Marguerite Rose, "so long as the King Philip is inthis country, and the Bishop of London. It might ask Dr Gardiner tobuild the palace, but I think they shall be able to keep it standing."
"But King Philip is not in this country," said Mr Underhill.
"He is master of it," said John.
"Alas for my _Te Deum_, then!" sighed Mr Underhill, shrugging hisshoulders. "But I hope you may yet find you mistaken, Jack Avery."
"Not more than I, Ned," said John, sadly.
John Avery did not find himself mistaken; but it was not long ere MrUnderhill did so. He allowed that his _Te Deum_ had been too soon, whenon the 18th of December Archdeacon Philpot was burned. And the burningsin Smithfield were then not half over.
On the 12th of January, at Mr Underhill's house in Wood Street, by MrCarter, was christened little Anne Underhill, born on Epiphany Eve [seeNote in Appendix]. Her sponsors were Mr Ferris, Helen Ive, and IsoultAvery.
Ere this, a few days before Christmas, Mr Rose's first letter hadreached his wife's hands. It brought the welcome tidings that he hadarrived safely at Geneva, yet through such perils that he would notadvise her to follow. When Isoult had read the letter, she remarked--
"I do see Mr Rose accounteth not himself to be lawfully divorced, for hemaketh account of her as his wife all through the letter, and signethhimself at the end thereof, her loving and faithful husband."
"Doth that astonish thee?" said John, laughing.
"Well, of a truth," she answered, "I had thought the worse of him forany other dealing."
Annis Holland came again in March to spend a day at the Lamb. On thisoccasion she told the rest of her story, or, it may rather be called,the story of Queen Juana. For many months after that first accidentalmeeting, she told them, she never again saw her royal mistress. ButDona Leonor Gomez, who was exceedingly loquacious when she had no fearof consequences, and sometimes when she had, told her that so long asshe was in her right senses, nothing would ever induce the Queen toattend mass. To persuade her to do any thing else, they would tell herthey acted under command of the King her father (who had in reality beendead many years); and she, loving him dearly, and not having sufficientacuteness left to guess the deceit practised upon her, would assentreadily to all they wished, except that one thing. Even that influencefailed to induce her to be present at mass.
"And one day," said Annis, "about the Christmastide, two years gone, Iwas sitting and sewing in my chamber, Maria being forth, and I had beenchanting to myself the hymn, `_Christe Redemptor Omnium_.' When I hadended and was silent, thinking me alone, a voice from the further end ofthe chamber saith, `Sing again, Dona Ines.' I looked up in very terror,for here was the Queen's Highness herself. I marvelled how she shouldhave come forth of her chamber, and what my Lord of Denia should say.`Senora,' said I, `I kiss the soles of your feet. But allow me toentreat your Highness to return to your chamber.'--`I will not returntill you have sung to me,' saith she. And she sat right down on thefloor, and clasped her hands around her knees. So I had no choice butto sing my hymn over again. When I ended, she saith, `What means it,Dona Ines? Is it somewhat of our Lord?'--`Ay, Senora,' I made answer,`it is all touching Him,'--`I understood the Church hymns once,' shesaid; `but that was before the _cuerda_. Sing some more.' Then I sang`_Victimae Paschali_!' `_Miserere_!' she repeated, dreamily, as if thatword had woke some old echoes in her memory. `Ay de mi! child, I lackthe mercy very sorely.'--`He knoweth that, Senora,' said I gently. `AndHis time is the best time.' And she answered, as she had aforetime,--`Iwould He would come!' I knew scarce what to answer; but I had no timeto answer at all, ere the door opened, which the Queen had closed behindher, and my dread Lord of Denia stood before me. `What is this,Senora?' he said to her Highness. `Your Highness here!' And turning tome, `Dona Ines,' quoth he, `explain it if you can.' I thought thewisest thing should be to speak very truth, as well as the right, and Itold him even how matters stood with me. `I see,' he answered. `Youhave not been to blame, except that you should have called immediatelyfor help, and have put her back into her chamber. Rise, Senora!' TheQueen clasped her hands closer around her knees. `I am at ease here,'she said. `And I want Dona Ines to sing.' The Marquis took a stepnearer her. `_Alteza_,' he said, `I desire your Highness to rise. Youshould be ashamed--you, a Queen!' She looked up on him with a look Ihad not seen in her _eyes_ aforetime. `Am I a Queen?' she said. `Ifso, a Queen captive in the enemy's hands! If I be your Queen, obey me--depart from this chamber when you hear my "_Yo la Reyna_." [Note 2.]Begone, senor Marques! Leave me in peace.' `Senora!' he answered,unmoving, `I am surprised. You are in your own Palace, where yourfather detains you; and you call it captivity! R
ise at once, Senora,and return to your chamber.' He spoke sternly and determinedly. Thecaptive lioness heard the keeper's voice, and obeyed. `My father--ayDon Fernando!' she said only. And holding out both her hands to him, asa child should do, he led her away. After that, I saw her no more formany weary months. At times the terrible screams would arouse me fromsleep, and then I prayed for her, that God would strengthen her, andease the torment to her; but, above all, that God would take her. Itrust it were not sin in me, Isoult. But if thou hadst seen her as Isaw her!
"Well, I saw her no more until this last April. Then there came a nightwhen the shrieks awoke me, more terrible than I had ever heard them yet.When Dona Leonor came into my chamber on the morrow, which was GoodFriday, I asked if she knew the cause. She told me ay. Her Highnesslay dying, and had refused to receive [that is, to receive thesacrament]. Fray Domingo de Soto would not suffer her to depart withoutthe host. While she yet talked with me, entered Dona Ximena de Lara,that had never been in my chamber afore, and alway seemed to hold hermuch above me. `Dona Ines,' quoth she, `my Lord of Denia commands youto follow me quickly. The Queen is in a fearful frenzy, and sith shehath alway much loved music, and divers times hath desired you should befetched to sing to her, my Lord Marquis would have you try whether thatwill serve to abate her rage.'
"`And they gave her the _cuerda_?' said I, as I followed Dona Ximena.`Ay, for two hours and more,' saith she, `but alas! to no end. Sherefuseth yet to receive His Majesty.' Know thou, Isoult, that thesestrange folk call the wafer `His Majesty'--a title that they give atonce to God and the King. `They gave her the _premia_ early lastnight,' saith she, `but it was to no good; wherefore it was foundneedful to repeat the same, more severely, near dawn. Her screams musthave been heard all over the town. A right woeful frenzy followed,wherein (she being ignorant of what she did) they caused her to swallowHis Majesty. Whereupon, in the space of some few minutes, by the powerof our Lord, she calmed; but the frenzy is now returned, and they thinkher very near her departing.' In her Highness' chamber a screen wasdrawn afore the bed, that I could not see her; but her struggles and hercries could too well be heard. My Lord of Denia stood without thescreen, and I asked what it was his pleasure I should sing. Heanswered, what I would, but that it should be soft and soothing. Andmethought the Hymn for the Dead should be the best thing to sing for thedying.
"`Rex tremendae majestatis, Qui salvandos salvas gratis, Salve me, Fons Pietatis!'
"I had sung but one verse when her crying ceased; and ere I had sungtwo, she saith with a deep sigh, `Ay Jesus!' and lay quiet. Then, whenI paused, she said, `Is it Dona Ines?'--`Speak to her,' quoth my LordMarquis. `Senora,' I answered, `I am your Highness' servant Ines, thatkisseth your feet.'--`Come hither to me,' the Queen said. `Child, Godhath looked on long in silence, but He is come at last.' My Lord ofDenia made me a sign to pass within the screen. There lay she, hersnow-white hair scattered over the pillow; her ladies standing orkneeling around the bed. `It is over!' she said, speaking slowly, andwith pauses. `I shall suffer no longer. I shall go to God.'--`Senora,'quoth my Lord Marquis, `I entreat your Highness to be silent. You havereceived His Majesty, and cannot be allowed to soil your soul by evilwords, when Christ is within you.'--`Ye forced me, did ye?' sheanswered, a quick flash of anger breaking the calm of her face. `Ah!well, God knoweth. _I_ did it not. God knoweth. And God will receiveme. He witteth what I have been, and what ye.' She lay silent aseason; and then, slowly, as if it pained her, she drew her handstogether, and folded them as if she prayed, Fray Domingo began a Latinprayer. `Silence!' saith the Queen, royally. And for this once--thelast time--her gaolers obeyed her. She fetched a long weary sigh, andlaid her hands one over the other on her breast. Then, in low, calm,quiet tones, her last words were spoken. `Father, into Thine hands Icommit my spirit. Jesus Christ, the Crucified, be with me! I thank Godthat my life is over.' It was over, only a few minutes later. And Ithink He was with her through the valley of the shadow of death." [Note2.]
"Isoult," said Annis, as she ended her woeful story, "thinkest thou thiswere martyrdom--this daily dying for six and twenty years? Was it anyless, borne for our Lord's love, than any of His martyrs? They that areburned or beheaded, they do but suffer once, and then no more. It mustbe easier, methinks, than to die piecemeal, as she did. And she knew solittle! Isoult, dost thou think Christ will count her in the number ofHis martyrs?"
"It soundeth very like, Annis," she answered.
"I do not fancy," said John, "that the Lord is so ill off for martyrs'crowns that He will have none to spare for her."
"Well!" responded Dr Thorpe. "It should be no great wonder if they wereused up, seeing how many must have been fetched within the last twoyears."
"I could believe any thing of Don Carlos," answered Marguerite Rose."He that so ill used his aunt, that had been a mother unto him, the LadyMarguerite of Savoy, that was Governess of Flanders,--he should not havemuch love for his own mother."
And Thekla said,--"I think the crown of the Queen Dona Juana must havebeen a very bright one. It is so hard to watch and wait."
"My poor Thekla!" murmured Isoult, "thou hast had much thereof."
"I!" she answered, with a smile. "I have done nothing. I have not beenforsaken and ill dealt withal, as she was, of my best beloved,throughout many years. Compare me not with her! If I may sit down somewhither in Heaven where I can but see her on the heights, that would betoo good for me."
"But art thou willing to see Christ only on the heights, Thekla?" saidJohn.
"No," she said, again with her sweet smile. "I should want to be closeto Him. No, I could not be content to look on Him afar off."
"In that case," said John, "there is no fear that He shall ask it ofthee."
No, there is no fear of His keeping us afar off. It is we who followafar off. "Father, I will that they also, whom Thou hast given Me, bewith Me where I am; that they may behold My glory, which Thou hast givenMe." With our dear Master, it is never "_Go_, and do this hard thing,go and suffer this heavy sorrow, go and bear this weary waiting." It isalways "_Come_ and do it;" or at least, "Let _us_ go."
And now there came another martyrdom: the highest, and in some sense,the sorest of them all; yet, by many, not the last. There was room formany souls under the Altar: ay, and on the Throne.
On the 22nd of March, with great pomp and splendour, "The Lord RaynaldPole, Cardinal Legate," was consecrated Archbishop of Canterbury. Itwas therefore apparent that Dr Cranmer had been degraded. Isoult saidso to Mr Underhill, whom she met at the service at Mr Ferris' lodging,and his answer troubled her no little.
"Nay, Mrs Avery," he replied; "'tis a sign that my Lord Archbishop isdead, for I do know by letter from Bernher, which is now at Oxford, thatyesterday was appointed for his burning."
And they had never heard one word after his recantation. Dead, withoutrecanting it! Dead, denying Christ at his end, after confessing Him inhis life! This was worse than many martyrdoms, for it was martyrdom ofthe soul. Was there no hope? Must this death be the second death?They knew that in the last hour, ay, even in the last minute, he mighthave repented unto life, and have again caught hold of Christ: butshould they who had prayed so fervently for the lost brother, have noword to say so--no "this thy brother is alive again?" Must they neverknow whether to look for him on the right or the left hand of the King,till they should see him there in the last day?
"I told you too true, Mrs Avery; my Lord Archbishop is dead."
These were the first words which Isoult heard, when she came down thestairs on the following morning.
"But how died he, Mr Underhill?" she cried anxiously.
"Gloriously! Like a martyr and a Prince of God's Church, as he was,publicly repenting the recantation whereto he had set his hand fromfear, and confessing Christ nobly before men, till at last they wouldnot hear a word further--they haled and hurried him to the stake."
"Thank God!" Her voice failed her; she could say no more.
"It was a foul and rainy day," he went on; "so Austin told me. My LordArchbishop was led from Bocardo to Saint Mary Church, betwixt two friarsthat mumbled certain Psalms, and at the church door they began the _NuncDimittis_. My Lord was ill-favouredly clad, in a bare and ragged gown,and an old square cap. Dr Cole preached, and more than twenty timesduring the sermon, the Archbishop was seen to have the water in hiseyes. Then they did desire him to get up into the pulpit, and openly toretract his preaching, and show all the people that he was become a trueCatholic."
"And did he that?"
"`Fair and softly go far in a day.' Have a little patience, I pray you.Well, he spake a long season, first, against the world; _item_, untoobedience; _item_, to brotherly love; _item_, against money-love; andlastly, he said over the Creed. `And now (quoth he) I come to the greatthing which so much troubleth my conscience.' He said his hand hadoffended against God, in signing his recantation; and when he shouldcome to the fire, it should be first burned. And so he spake bravely,renouncing the Pope as Antichrist, and Christ's enemy and his, and thathe utterly abhorred all his false doctrine. And touching the Sacrament,the doctrine `which (saith he) I have taught in my book is true, andwill stand at the last day before the judgment of God, when thePapistical doctrine contrary thereto shall be ashamed to show her head.'
"Well, like Paul, they gave him audience unto this word, and then criedout, Away with such a fellow from the earth! They cried that he wasfalse, and dissembled. `Ah, my masters!' quoth our good Archbishop, `doyou take it so? Always since I lived hitherto, I have been a hater offalsehood, and a lover of simplicity, and never before this time have Idissembled.' The water stood in his eyes; and he would have spoken moreagainst the Pope and the mass, but Cole crieth out, `Stop the heretic'smouth! Take him away!' Then the friars set upon him, and pulled himdown out of the pulpit, and so hurried him away to the place where, fivemonths before him, Dr Ridley had died.
"Then there he knelt and prayed, and made him, ready; and stood on thestones robed in his long white shirt, barefoot, and his head (whenas hiscap were off) without one hair thereon, though his beard was long andthick. Then (he giving the hand to such as he knew about the stake),they bound the chain around him, and lit the fire. And until it wasfull burned, he held forth his right hand in the fire, crying ever andanon, `This unworthy right hand!' At last he saith, `Lord Jesus,receive my spirit!' And so he yielded it up to Him. But afterward,when his ashes were cold, amid the charred faggots his heart was foundentire.
"So passed that great heart away from us, that perchance we knew notfully how to prize. Beshrew my weak eyes! I am but a fool; yet 'tishard to think that we shall see his reverend countenance no more."
And Mr Underhill dashed away the tears from his eyes, much like PhilippaBasset. Isoult never had seen him thus affected before.
But on their knees in their chambers, the Gospellers thanked God fromtheir hearts that day, for this pouring forth of His Spirit upon the dryground; for His glory thus exalted in the awakening of that dear brotherfrom sleep which seemed as though it might be death; for His strength,so gloriously shown forth in mortal weakness, that warmed and quickenedthe last beatings of the noble heart of Archbishop Cranmer.
"Jack," said Isoult that night to her husband, "I would I had asked MrUnderhill if Austin had yet heard anything of Robin."
"Ah!" said he.
"Thou art not used to answer so short," she replied. "Hast thou heardany thing, Jack?"
"I have heard--nothing--certain," he answered, hesitatingly.
"Jack, what hast thou heard?" she cried in terror.
"With any surety, dear heart, nothing whatever," he said, lovingly;"only that Austin hath spoken to me touching him, and therefore I couldnot say I had heard nothing. And at most 'tis only a guess. I cry theemercy not to have told thee, but seeing how unsure it were, I thought itmore kindlier not to trouble thee. Well, sweeting, what Austin said wasthis: he hath made all search in every prison he hath visited, and spakeunto divers prisoners, but no word of the dear lad may he have. And heis afeard, Isoult--it is but a guess, thou wist!--that all is overalready."
Before he had half finished, his meaning struck on her heart, like apassing bell. "All over!" she knew what that meant.
"O my God! wilt thou not give us one word that we may know? Thiswatching and waiting is so hard to bear. I desire to be, to do, tosuffer Thy will; but, Father, it is very weary work to wait! `If it bepossible,' send us some word of our lost darling! `Make no longtarrying, O my God!'"
It was not to John, and not aloud, that this was spoken.
It is not only children who are afraid of the dark. We all love to walkby sight. We are rarely content to see only the next step we must take;yet it is all we need see, and often all that God will show us. Thedarkness and the light are both alike to Him; and if only we would letHim see for us, we should act the part of wise children. It is easy,when the light comes, to cry out at our past foolishness in being afraidof the dark. We never think so while the darkness is upon us.
A few days later came Philippa Basset, full of Court news, which she hadfrom her brother James.
"Yesterday," said she, "came a letter or messenger from King Philip,denying his present return hither: whereupon the Queen fell into sogreat a chafe, that she commanded his picture borne out of the privychamber. Thus far my brother; but Jack Throgmorton saith that shefetched a knife and scored the picture twice or thrice all the way down,and then kicked it out of the chamber. [Throgmorton denied having saidthis, when a judicial inquiry was held.] `Saint Mary worshipped mightshe be!' said I to James, `is her Grace a woman like to do that?'`Nay,' saith he, `not half so like as thou shouldst be in her place.'"Whereat Philippa laughed merrily.
Isoult was in a mood for any thing rather than laughter. It was toonear Easter for mirth. Easter, which should be the most blessedfestival of the year, was now turned into an occasion of offence and ofmourning to the servants of God.
In the evening all from the Lamb were at Mr Underhill's farewell supper,at his house in Wood Street, whence he purposed to set out for Coventrythe next day as soon as the gates were opened. He said he would notremain another Easter in London.
The last day of June came a letter to John Avery from Mr Underhill,saying that they had all arrived safely at Coventry, and he had taken ahouse a mile out of the city, "in a wood side," where he trusted to keepquiet until the tyranny were overpast.
The darkness was growing thicker.
In that month of June began the procession in every church, at which theBishop commanded the attendance of every child in London, bearing booksor beads in hand, and of one adult from each house to take charge ofthem. "Ours are not like to go," said Isoult, tenderly; "but 'tisharder work to set them in peril than to go therein one's self."
Sir John Gage died on the 18th of April, an old man full of years. Itwas he who had been on the Commission to Calais, and had brought Isoultto England after Lord Lisle's arrest; and he had also endeavoured tohave Mr Underhill sent to Newgate.
The search against Lutheran books was now very strict (and laughableenough in less sorrowful circumstances). Among these Lutheran books themost strictly forbidden were my Lord Chancellor's book "_De VeraObedientia_" and one written by the Queen herself when a girl, under theauspices of Katherine Parr,--a translation of a work of Erasmus.
Another letter came from Mr Rose in July, bringing good news of hiswelfare; and in August Annis Holland was married to Don Juan de Alameda.
Writing on the 21st of August, in her diary, Isoult said--
"Not one word more touching Robin. There be times when I feel as thoughI could bear it no longer, though what I could do to end it, soothly Icannot tell. I conceive well what David signified, when he saith he didroar through the very disquietness of his heart. I dare not tell thisto Marguerite, for she is too nearly of the same complexion to give meany comfort; and to say a word to Esther is no good, for she silencethme at once with some pass
age of Holy Writ as `Shall not the Judge of allthe earth do right?' And what can I say to that but Amen? Jack isalways loving and tender, but he can (I well perceive) see littlecomfort herein himself; and to do so much as name the thing to Theklawere wanton cruelty, though I do fancy she should be the best comforter.So I must wait on, and cry unto God. It may be that is the very thingHe would have of me."
Bad news came by Austin, early in 1557--the death of the Earl of Sussex[Note 4], Mr Rose's chief friend in high places. Poor Marguerite wasmuch downcast, saying they had now lost their best friend.
"No, Mother dear," answered Thekla, "not our best Friend. He is in anhigher place; and He dieth no more."
Another Easter came and passed; and King Philip returned to England.
Every now and then Austin visited the Lamb; but he brought no news ofRobin. Isoult thought she had never realised how dearly she loved thelad till now. It was hard to thank God for such a blank in the home asthis; and yet deep in the inmost heart she knew, as every Christianknows, that the Father was doing all things well, and that "there was nomust be without a needs be." To wait on the Lord is no easy task toflesh and blood; but there is one thing yet harder, and that is to restin the Lord while waiting.
And meanwhile Thekla drooped and faded, day by day. She never spoke nowof Robin; but it was easy to see that she had not forgotten him. Slowerand more languid grew her step, and her face whiter and graver, with anexpression of sorrowful patience, which did not quit its hold upon thelips even when they smiled.
"She is worn to a shadow," said Marguerite, bitterly. "Why cannot we gohome to God? What profit is it to Him that we do suffer?"
And Isoult was silent; but she remembered Robin's words about "believersin the dark."
On the 7th of June, which was Whit Monday, there was a Passion Play atCourt. Isoult, coming in from a call upon her neighbour, Mrs Brent,observed in a rather disgusted tone--
"Gillian Brent must needs go to see this mystery. For me, I might aseasily or as willingly go to see a martyrdom. She saith 'tis rightsweet and devotional, and maketh her to feel so good she cannot tell howmuch. 'Tis a sort of goodness I covet not. It were like murdering theSon of God over again, to see His blessed name taken upon himself of asinful man, and His bitter passion set forth to divert men. Gilliansaith none will see the thing as I do; but that cannot I help.Perchance He may, when He looketh down upon it."
At her house at Chelsea, on the 16th of July, died Anna of Cleve, one ofthe two widows of Henry the Eighth. She came to England a Lutheran, anddied a Papist. King Philip went to Flanders on the 5th of July; on the14th of August came news of the great victory of Saint Quentin, whichthe King had won there; and the next day there were great thanksgivingsand rejoicings over all the City. And on the 20th of October died MaryCountess of Arundel, at Arundel House; she was cousin of PhilippaBasset, and when she was Countess of Sussex, Isoult had lived for sometime in her house with Anne Basset.
A fortnight previous, London was requested to rejoice again, for peacewas concluded with the Pope.
"Verily," said Dr Thorpe, "this is a marvellous thing, to bid usrejoice, and to give us cause for mourning."
"Marry," responded Mr Ferris, "for me, when the war brake forth, I sangthe _Te Deum_ under my breath; now will I clothe me in sackcloth undermy raiment, and so shall I have both sorrowed and rejoiced, and none cangrudge against me."
The year 1557 closed heavily. The burnings went on, but they werechiefly of poor men and women: sometimes, but not often, of children orgirls. On the 12th of December a Gospellers' meeting was dispersed, andmany taken by the Sheriff; but no friends of the Averys. All this timeMr Holland, with his wife and child, were at his father's house inLancashire, and Mr Underhill with his household at Coventry. Isoult'slast entry in her diary for this year ran as follows:--
"Austin came yesterday, to tell us my Lady of Suffolk and Mr Bertie didquit Germany, where they had refuged, in April last, and be now safe inPoland, at a town called Crossen, and the King's Grace of Poland hathset Mr Bertie over a province of his. I am glad to hear this. Theyhad, nathless, many and great troubles in their journey, but sith 'tisall over, it is not worth grieving for.
"Ah, faithless heart and foolish! and will not all troubles be so, whenthe last mile of the journey cometh? Yea, may we not find we had mostcause to thank God for the roughest parts of the way? So saith my senseand judgment: yet for all this will mine heart keep crying out, and willnot be silent. O Robin, Robin! an other year!"
The Gospellers never entered on any year with heavier hearts than on theyear 1558. The year of all the century! the year that was to close sogloriously--to go out with trumpets, and bells, and bonfires, and _TeDeums_, and all England in a wild ferment of delight and thanksgiving!And how often do we enter on a year of mourning with our hearts singinganthems?
It is well that it should be so. We have abundant cause to thank Godthat He has hidden the future from us. It is enough for us to know thatall things work together for good to them that love Him, to them thatare the called according to His purpose.
But very, very mournfully came this year in; for it opened with the lossof Calais. Isoult had dwelt there for two years with Lady Lisle; andthere were few places nearer to her heart. Perhaps we can hardlypicture to ourselves how nearly that loss touched every English heart.It was as if each man in the land had lost a piece of his estate.Calais belonged to every Englishman.
"Well, my friends in the monastery!" was the greeting of Mr Ferris,"that I promised Underhill I would look to by times. Hath your secludedear been yet pierced with the tidings this morrow--that be making everyman all over London to swear and curse, that loveth not his soul betterthan his anger?"
"What now?" said John. "Nay, the Courts be not yet opened again, so Ihave bidden at home."
"And I am an old man, burdened with an access," [a fit of the gout] saidDr Thorpe. "Come, out with your news! What platform [Note 5] touchethit?"
"Every platform in the realm. Have it here--Calais is lost."
"Calais!" They said no more.
But a vision rose before the eyes of Isoult--of George Bucker in thepulpit of the Lady Church, and Lord and Lady Lisle in the nave below: ofthe Market Place, where his voice had rung out true and clear: of theLantern Gate whereon his head had been exposed: of the gallows nearSaint Pierre whereon he had died. His voice came back to her, and LordLisle's--both which she had heard last in the Tower, but both which wereto her for ever bound up with Calais. Her eyes were swimming, and shecould not speak. And before another word had been uttered by any one,the latch was lifted by Philippa Basset.
"There is not a man left in England!" she cried. "Calais had never beenlost, had _I_ been there to fire the culverins."
"No, Madam," said Mr Ferris (who did not know that she was a Papist)."They have all been burned or beheaded."
"Upon my word, but I am coming to think so!" cried she. "Shame uponevery coward of them! Were there not enough to fill the first breachwith a wall of men's bodies, rather than lose the fairest jewel of theCrown? Beshrew the recreants! but I had never come away from thatbreach alive! I would have died with Calais!"
"I am sorry you were not there, Madam," said he, "for the sake ofCalais. For your own sake, 'tis well."
"I am sorry all over," answered she. "The Queen taketh it most heavilyof all. She said to her ladies that when she should be dead, theyshould find `Calais' graved upon her heart."
Hitherto the storm of persecution had not come inside the little walledcircle of friends dear to the hearts of the Averys. It had raged aroundthem, had broken fiercely upon men whom they reverenced and loved asafar off. But now it was to come within. One whose eyes had lookedinto theirs, whose lips had smiled on them, whose voice had bidden Godbless them,--ay, upon whose knee the children had sat, and chattered tohim in childish wise,--was summoned from the midst of them, to go up inthe chariot of fire into the presence of the Lord.
Austin and Mr Underhill
came together, both very pensive, on the nightof the 6th of May.
"There is ill news with you, I fear," said John.
"There is ill news, and that right heavy," answered Mr Underhill."Roger Holland is taken."
"Where and how?" they asked.
"With six other, in a quiet close near Saint John's Wood, where theywere met to read God's Word and pray together, this last May Day; andcarried afore my Lord of London. He had better have tarried at hisfather's in Lancashire, whence he was but newly come."
"And Bessy?" said Isoult, compassionately.
"Roger left her and the child in Lancashire," said he; "where, if shewill take mine avisement, she will remain."
Mr Holland was examined before Bishop Bonner, Lord Strange beingpresent, with others of his Lancashire kinsmen. Austin reported that"he confessed Christ right nobly, and kept up the Bishop in a corner byhis wise and gentle learning--such as I had not thought had been inhim:" and at last, after much discussion, the Bishop lost his patience(a commodity of which he never carried much to market), called MrHolland a blasphemous heretic, and sentenced him to be burned.
Mr Holland replied, as the gaoler was about to remove him,--"My Lord, Ibeseech you, suffer me to speak two words."
"Nay!" cried he, "I will not hear thee: have him away!"
Lord Strange interfered, and begged that his cousin might be heard.
"Speak?" growled Bonner, "what hast thou to say?"
Mr Holland answered, "Even now I told you that your authority was fromGod, and by His sufferance; and now I tell you, God hath heard theprayer of His servants, which hath been poured forth with tears for Hisafflicted saints, whom you daily persecute, as now you do us. But thisI dare be bold in God to say (by whose Spirit I am moved), that God willshorten your hand of cruelty, that for a time you shall not molest HisChurch. And this you shall in a short time well perceive, my dearbrethren, to be most true. For after this day, in this place, thereshall not be any by him put to the trial of fire and faggot."
The Bishop replied that "he should yet live to burn, yea, and he wouldburn, for all this prattling:" and so went his way, and Mr Holland wastaken back to Newgate.
But the Bishop, like many another, laid his plans without reference toHim who sat above the water-floods. Roger Holland had an unction fromthe Holy One, and his prescience was true. The commandment was goneforth from the presence of the King--"Hitherto shalt thou come, and nofurther." After that once, by Bonner, and in Smithfield, there wasnever another "trial of fire and faggot."
Yet for that once, the Devil and Edmund Bonner had their way. Waitingfor Roger Holland were the white robe and the martyr's palm; and withhis name the muster-roll of soldiers slain in the great battle ofEngland was closed in Heaven.
It is not entirely unedifying to note _why_ this man was martyred. Solong as he pursued the profligate course on which he had embarked inearly youth, Rome had not a word to say to him. Sin does not come underher cognisance, except to be muffled up in absolution, and hidden fromthe eyes of the sinner--but not from the eyes of God. But the momentthat Holland's course was altered, and he began to try so to walk as toplease God, that moment he came under the ban of her who dares to standup in the face of the world, and with unblushing effrontery to callherself the Church of God.
Very late on the 28th of June, Augustine Bernher brought the news of thelast martyrdom. His face told, before he spoke, that he came to saysomething terrible. The first thoughts of those at the Lamb, as usual,flew to Robin and Mr Rose; but Austin quickly turned them into adifferent channel.
"I am come," he said, "from Roger Holland's martyrdom."
"Eh, Austin! is it over with Mr Holland?" cried Isoult.
"It is over with him, and he shall suffer no more pains of death forever. He and the other six taken with him were burned to-day inSmithfield."
"And how went it with him?"
"When he was come to the stake," answered Austin, "he embraced it, andlooking up unto Heaven, he saith:--`Lord, I most humbly thank ThyMajesty that Thou hast called me from the state of death unto the lightof Thy heavenly Word, and now unto the fellowship of Thy saints, that Imay sing and say, Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Hosts. And, Lord, intoThy hands I commit my spirit. Lord, bless these Thy people, and savethem from idolatry.' And so, looking up unto Heaven, and praisingGod,--God stooped and took him."
"Alas, poor Bessy!" said Isoult, after a while.
"I must write unto her," said Austin. "I trust she is yet safe inLancashire."
Isoult did not forget her before God that night. It was easy for themass of the Gospellers to think of Mr Holland as he now was, at Home, inthe safe rest of the Father's house, and to praise God for him. But hisBessy was not likely to do so as yet. When the night is very dark, wecannot always lift our heads to see how fair the light shines on thefurther side of the Jordan; and to us who are in the thickness of thedarkness, it is at times no lighter for that knowledge. And the nightwas very dark now.
And yet some tell us--ay, some of us, Englishmen whose fathers passedthrough these dreadful scenes, leaving to their sons such awfulmemories,--they tell us it were better to leave those memories sleeping."Why rake up such disagreeable reminiscences? They belong to pastages. Rome is different now, just as society is different. Is thischarity, peace, forbearance?"
I reply, it _is_ charity, and of the highest type. When a man sees hisfriend in the grasp of a tiger, he does not drop his levelled gun on theplea of charity _to the tiger_. And Rome is not different. She onlylooks so, because the wisdom of our fathers circumscribed heropportunities, just as the tiger looks harmless in a cage in theZoological Gardens. Shall we therefore open the cage door?
And we, who are bent on pulling down as fast as we can those bars whichour fathers forged in tears and blood,--let us be a little moreconsistent. Let us take away the locks from our doors, because for tenyears there has been no attempt at burglary in that street. Let us pulldown the hurdles which surround our sheep-pens, because for some time nolamb has been lost from that particular flock. We are not such fools asto do these things. Men's bodies, and still more men's property, aresafely protected among us. But how is it about men's souls? How willit be when the rulers of England shall stand at the Bar whence there isno appeal, and hear from the great Judge the awful requirement,--"Whereis thy flock that was given thee, thy beautiful flock?" Shall we hearabout "want of power"--which generally means want of will--about "thevoice of the nation," and "the spirit of the age," and "respect to theopinions of others," and the numberless little fictions with which menwile their souls to sleep, here and now? Will the Bishop who sworebefore God to "drive away all erroneous and strange doctrine contrary toHis Word," offer to the Judge then those convenient excuses with whichhe salves over his conscience now? Will the statesman who followed themultitude to do evil, instead of leading them to do good, urge in Hispresence who seeth in secret the platitudes about majorities and thenational will which he finds satisfactory now? There is a very solemnpassage in God's neglected and despised Word, concerning him who knewhis Lord's will, and did it not.
Another Easter passed away, and left them safe. The summer was aseason, not so much of suffering, as of fear and waiting. They weretarrying the Lord's leisure. A few months later, Isoult Avery wrote inher diary--
"My birthday, and I am now forty-five years of age. It is not unmeetthat I should tarry a while at the milestones, and look back on the wayby which the Lord hath led me. This last year hath been very woeful andweary. What shall the next be?
"O Lord, Thou knowest. All the way is of Thine ordering, all guided bywisdom that never erreth, by love that never waxeth faint. I will trustThy wisdom to devise, and Thy love to effect. Father in Heaven! let menot faint under Thy correction, neither let me despise Thy chastening.Be merciful unto me, O Lord, be merciful unto me! And Thou (not I)knowest best how and when I need Thy mercy. Hear (and if need be,forgive) the cry which echoes in mine heart for ever--`If it bepossible,' gi
ve us back our darling!"
The great Emperor Charles the Fifth died on the 21st of September inthis year, in the monastery of San Yuste, whither he went to "make hissalvation" in his old age.
"I trust," said Isoult, when she heard it, "that he repented him, amongother sins, of his ill-using of his mother. There shall doubtless bemany masses for him here."
"_Il faut beaucoup prier_!" said Marguerite Rose, drily.
The end was at hand now. The eventful November of 1558 had set in.
Philippa told Isoult that the Queen suffered fearfully. She sat manydays on the floor of her chamber, her knees higher than her head. Thepain in her head was dreadful; and people began to say that she, who wasoriginally accounted merciful, had been merciful all through, for thatothers had given orders for the burnings, and she, even in sceptring theActs, had scarcely known what she did. The last time that she went tothe House of Lords, she was too ill to walk, but was borne by hergentlemen in waiting to the throne. James Basset told his sister, that"he counted all burned or beheaded in the Queen's reign had not sufferedso much, body nor soul, as she."
James Basset, who had been ailing for some time, grew worse on the 16th,when the Queen and the Cardinal were both so ill, that it was thoughtdoubtful which of them would die the sooner. All matters of state, andmany of business, were held as it were in the air, waiting the Queen'sdeath. Many of the Council had already set forth for Hatfield. "Thatshould not like me," said Isoult, "were I either the dying sister or theliving." And she who lay in that palace of White Hall must have known(if she were not beyond knowing anything) that round her grave would beno mourners--that she had done little to cause England to weep for her,and much to cause rejoicing that she could harm England no more. Didshe know that men without were naming the day Hope Wednesday, becauseevery hour they expected news of her end?
"God save Queen Elizabeth! Long live the Queen! Yea, may the Queenlive for ever!"
These were the first sounds which Isoult heard when she was awoke fromsleep on the Friday morning. Indeed, there was far too much tumult forsleep. Great crowds of men were pouring through Aldgate; and as shelooked from the window she saw men kissing, and embracing, and weeping,and laughing, and shouting, all at once, and all together. And but onewas the burden of all--"The Queen is dead! The Lady Elizabeth is Queen!God save Queen Elizabeth!"
"Hurrah!" said Mr Ferris, an hour later, flinging up his cap to theceiling as he came in. "Hurrah! now is come the Golden Age again! Wemay breathe now. Long life to the Queen of the Gospellers!"
"I thought she were rather the Queen of the Lutherans," suggested John.
"All one," answered he. "Lutherans burn not Gospellers, nor clap theminto prison neither. What have Gospellers to fear from Queen Anne'sdaughter?"
"They may have something from King Henry's," answered John.
"Jack, thou deservest--I cannot stay to tell thee what: and I haveshouted and danced myself an hungered. Mrs Avery, have you to spare ofthat goodly round of beef?"
"Pray you, sit down with us, Mr Ferris," said she; "we shall not lack ashive for you."
"Ah, but if I lack half-a-dozen shives, how then?" said he.
"Sit down, man," responded John. "Why, George Ferris! you are in afever!"
"Pretty nigh," answered he. "Is there any man in London out of one thismorrow?--except you."
"I am too thankful to be merry," he replied. "But how goes it withCardinal Pole?"
"His death is hourly looked for," said Mr Ferris.
That afternoon, at the Cross and other places, was Queen Elizabethproclaimed. Even by night men scarcely seemed to have cooled down: soglad was England of her Protestant Queen, so freely she breathed whenthe hand of the oppressor was withdrawn. In the afternoon of Fridaydied Cardinal Pole, outliving his cousin Queen Mary only twenty-fourhours. John reported that the very faces he met in the streets lookedfreer and gladder, as if every man were now at his ease and king ofhimself. Now, he thought, or, at the farthest, when the Queen wascrowned, would the prisons be opened. Who would come out of them?--wasa very anxious question; and yet more, Who would not come? That dayMarguerite wrote to Mr Rose, by Austin, who set out immediately to carrythe news to the banished Gospellers; and they looked forward hopefullyto seeing him ere long [Note 6]. Might they look, with any thing likehope, to see another? Their judgment had given up hope long ago. Butthe heart will hope, even against all, until it knows assuredly thatthere can be hope no longer.
"Isoult," said her husband, when he came home in the evening, "I haveheard tidings that methinks shall make thee a little sorry."
"What be they, Jack?" said she.
"The death of Mr James Basset," he answered, "yestereven."
Isoult wrote a little loving note to Philippa; but she heard nothingfrom her.
Again on the 28th was all London in a ferment of eager joy: for theQueen came to the Tower, in readiness for her coronation. She came fromthe Charter House, sitting in a rich chariot, arrayed in a riding-dressof purple velvet, and a scarf tied over her shoulder. All London Wallwas hung with tapestry; and beside her rode Lord Robert Dudley, who hadbeen made Master of the Horse.
"Lack-a-daisy!" said Dr Thorpe, "must we be ridden with Dudleys yetagain? Is the quotidian ague throughout England all this autumn notplague enough, that my Lord Robin Dudley must needs bear the bell? Afig for all the Dudleys--nor are they worth that!"
On the 4th of December the Queen went through the City to SomersetHouse. Some trouble was feared concerning her coronation. TheArchbishop of York and all the Popish Bishops refused to crown her; norwould they consecrate any not of their way of thinking. ThirteenBishops had died of the pestilence; but not Dr Bonner, to whom (alone ofall of them) Elizabeth refused her hand to kiss when they met her inprogress. How differently this year had closed from the last! TheGospellers looked back, indeed, with trembling, yet with greatthankfulness; and there was no need to look forward (but for one thing)save with hope. They must know soon now the fate of the missing one.At least the waiting and fearing would be over. The knowledge mightleave their hearts sick; yet, even at the worst, it would be no longerwith hope deferred.
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Note 1. An interesting notice of George Shipside, husband of AliceRidley, with an account of his Bible annotated by himself, will be foundin the _Sunday at Home_, 1871, page 789 _et seq_.
Note 2. Spanish Sovereigns sign in a manner peculiar to themselves, notby the Christian name, but "I the King," or "I the Queen."
Note 3. With the exception of a few minor details, chiefly relating toothers than herself, this account of Queen Juana's gradual martyrdom isstrictly true.
Note 4. He died February 15, 1557, at "Sir Harry Sydney's house, ChanonRoo, Westminster" (Harl. Ms. 897, folio 79).
Note 5. This old English word for _party_ we have so utterly lost, thatwe fancy it a new one recently introduced from America.
Note 6. It might have been expected that the banished or escapedProtestants would wait to see the line which Elizabeth's policy wouldtake before venturing to return: but no such misgivings troubled theirminds. So perfect was their confidence in her, that they flocked homelike doves to their windows.