of all things, so far as London was
concerned. Beyond it she saw the wide rolling hills, the bright reaches
of the river, and the sparkle of Placentia, far away.

"Her Grace is at Westminster these days," exclaimed the priest; "she is
moving to Hampton Court in a day or two; so I doubt not we shall be able
to go in and see a little. We shall see, at least, the outside of the
Paradise where so many holy ones have lived and died. There are three or
four of them here now; but the most of them are in the Fleet or the
Marshalsea."

Marjorie glanced at him. She did not understand.

"I mean Catholic prisoners, mistress. There are several of them in ward
here, but we had better speak no names."

He wheeled suddenly as they came out into the open and moved to the
left.

"There is Tower Hill, mistress; where my lord Cardinal Fisher died, and
Thomas More."

Marjorie stopped short. But there was nothing great to see--only a
rising ground, empty and bare, with a few trimmed trees; the ground was
without grass; a few cobbled paths crossed this way and that.

"And here is the gateway," he said, "whence they come out to glory....
And there on the right" (he swept his arm towards the river) "you may
see, if you are fortunate, other criminals called pirates, hung there
till they be covered by three tides."

* * * * *

Still standing there, with Mr. Babington and his sister come up from
behind, he began to relate the names of this tower and of that, in the
great tumbled mass of buildings surmounted by the high keep. But
Marjorie paid no great attention except with an effort: she was brooding
rather on the amazing significance of all that she saw. It was under
this gateway that the martyrs came; it was from those windows in that
tower which the priest had named just now, that they had looked.... And
this was Father Campion. She turned and watched him as he talked. He was
dressed as he had been dressed last night, but with a small cloak thrown
over his shoulders; he gesticulated freely and easily, pointing out this
and that; now and again his eyes met hers, and there was nothing but a
grave merriment in them.... Only once or twice his voice softened, as he
spoke of those great ones that had shown Catholics how both to die and
live.

"And now," he said, "with your permission I will go and speak to the
guard, and see if we may have entrance."

* * * * *

It was alm