e went out and closed the door behind him. Only God
could speak comfort to Roger and Christabel in that dark hour. Only God
could help poor Roger to tell Christie that she would never see her dear
Aunt Alice any more until she should clasp hands with her on the street
of the Golden City, and under the shade of the Tree of Life. And God
would help him: John Banks was quite sure of that. But as he stepped
out into the summer night, it seemed almost as if he could see a
vision--as if the outward circumstances in which he had beheld the trio
were prophetic--Alice in the glory of the great light, Roger with his
way shown clearly by the little lamp of God's Word, and Edward in that
black shadow, made lurid and more awful by the faint unearthly light.
The moon came out brightly from behind a cloud, just as Banks lifted his
eyes upwards.

"Good God, forgive us all!" he said earnestly, "and help all that need
Thee!"

Alice was above all help, and Roger was sure of help. But who or what
could help Edward Benden save the sovereign mercy of God?

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

WHAT THEY COULD.

A month had passed since the burning of the Canterbury martyrs. The
Bishop of Dover had gone on a visit to London, and the land had rest in
his absence. It may be noted here, since we shall see no more of him,
that he did not long survive the event. He was stricken suddenly with
palsy, as he stood watching a game at bowls on a Sunday afternoon, and
was borne to his bed to die. The occupation wherein the "inevitable
angel" found him, clearly shows what manner of man he was.

In Roger Hall's parlour a little conclave was gathered for discussion of
various subjects, consisting of the handful of Gospellers yet left in
Staplehurst. Various questions had been considered, and dismissed as
settled, and the conversation flagged for a few seconds, when Tabitha
suddenly flung a new topic into the arena.

"Now, what's to be done for that shiftless creature, Collet Pardue? Six
lads and two lasses, and two babes of Sens Bradbridge's, and fewer wits
than lads, and not so many pence as lasses. Won't serve to find 'em all
dead in the gutter. So what's to be done? Speak up, will you, and
let's hear."

"I can't speak on those lines, Tabitha," replied her brother-in-law.
"Collet is no wise shiftless, for she hath brought up her children in a
good and godly fashion, the which a woman with fewer brains than lads
should ne'er have done. But I