is subjects, and his fingers twitched and fidgetted on his knees.

The Abbot did not make them a long discourse; but told them briefly that
there was trouble coming; he spoke in veiled terms of the Act of
Supremacy, and the serious prayer that was needed; he said that a time
of testing was close at hand, and that every man must scrutinise his own
conscience and examine his motives; and that the unlearned had better
follow the advice and example of their superiors.

It was all very vague and unsatisfactory; but Chris became aware of
three things. First, that the world was very much alive and could not be
dismissed by a pious aspiration or two; second, that the world was about
to make some demand that would have to be seriously dealt with, and
third, that there was nothing really to fear so long as their souls were
clean and courageous. The Abbot was a melting speaker, full at once of a
fatherly tenderness and vehemence, and as Chris looked at him he felt
that indeed there was nothing to fear so long as monks had such
representatives and protectors as these, and that the world had better
look to itself for fear it should dash itself to ruin against such rocks
of faith and holiness.

But as the spring drew on, an air of suspense and anxiety made itself
evident in the house. News came down that More and Fisher were still in
prison, that the oath was being administered right and left, that the
King had thrown aside all restraints, and that the civil breach with
Rome seemed in no prospect of healing. As for the spiritual breach the
monks did not seriously consider it yet; they regarded themselves as
still in union with the Holy See whatever their rulers might say or do,
and only prayed for the time when things might be as before and there
should be no longer any doubt or hesitation in the minds of weak
brethren.

But the Prior's face grew more white and troubled, and his temper
uncertain.

Now and again he would make them speeches assuring them fiercely that
all was well, and that all they had to do was to be quiet and obedient;
and now he would give way to a kind of angry despair, tell them that all
was lost, that every man would have to save himself; and then for days
after such an exhibition he would be silent and morose, rapping his
fingers softly as he sat at his little raised table in the refectory,
walking with downcast eyes up and down the cloister muttering and
staring.

Towards the end of April he sent abrupt