till I die."

"The Church teacheth that dying stoppeth not praying," said he.

"I wis well that the Church so teacheth; but I saw it not in the book;
however, if I find it to be so, I will pray God for thee there also."

"Thou sayest well, Madge; but I trow thou art more angel presently than
shall I be ever. I tell thee, Madge--for mayhap it will comfort thee to
know it--thy dealings and sayings of late have caused me to think more
on these things than ever did I afore. It seemeth but a small matter to
thee, to go through the fire to the glory. I marvel an' it could be so
unto me."

"Say not `to the glory,' good husband, but to Christ. I would not have
the glory and lack Christ. And for thee, I do rejoice and bless God
heartily, if He will make my poor doings of any good service unto the
welfare of thy soul. And believe me, that if thou art called unto my
fiery ordeal, Christ will give thee grace and strength equal unto thy
need. It is not much for them who love Christ, if they see Him stand
beyond a little fire, to pluck up heart and go through the fire to Him.
O good husband, take these as my dying words, and teach them to the
child for the same, `Christ without everything is an hundredfold better
than everything without Christ!'" Those last words were ringing in Lord
Marnell's ears when, about eight o'clock in the morning, he stood on the
steps of Marnell Place, looking towards the Tower, and fancying the
mournful preparations which were going on there. Margery had thought it
best that she should be alone for her fiery trial. As Lord Marnell
stood there, lost in thought, he suddenly heard his own name spoken. He
turned round, and saw two men before him, in travellers' attire. One of
them was an old man, with venerable white head and beard; the other was
much younger, and Lord Marnell recognised him at once.

"Master Pynson! I pray you what brings you here? Is the boy well?"

"He is well," answered Richard, in a low tone, "and Dame Lovell
likewise. We came hither on matters pertaining to my friend who here
standeth, and a terrible bruit hath reached us that the Lady Marnell
will suffer this morrow."

"It is true," said Lord Marnell, sorrowfully.

"Can no help be found?" cried Richard, in an agony. "I would put my
life for hers--yea, an hundred times twice told!"

"And I likewise," said her husband. "No--there is no help. The King
will hear of no remittance."

"When is it?"

"At nine o' t