future?"
said Mr Rose, smiling.

"The Devil is not like to run short of servants," answered Dr Thorpe,
grimly. "If it be not he, it will be an other."

The clouds returned after the rain; but they gathered softly.
Unheralded by any suspicion on the part of England as to the fate which
it bore, came that fatal first of December which was the beginning of
the end.

Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset, was arraigned that day in Westminster
Hall. And round the doors England pressed, yet in more hope than fear.
A mere farce, she thought: he must be acquitted, of course. She
prepared to welcome him home in triumph.

With such feelings in her heart--for was she not a part of England?--
Isoult Avery stood at her door about six o'clock that evening, waiting
for John's return from the trial which was the one occurrence of the
day. Robin had gone with him; but Dr Thorpe remained at home. For a
time there was nothing but silence. The usual hum of the City was
stilled: everybody was at Westminster. From Goodman's Fields the cows
came lowing home; now and then a single person, intent on business with
which nothing might interfere, passed quickly up the Minories; the soft
chime of the bells of Saint Katherine floated past the Tower wall, for
the ringers were practising after evensong; and one great gun rang out
sharply from the Tower, to inform the world that it was six o'clock.
Five minutes afterwards, a low sound, like the roll of distant thunder,
came from the City side of Aldgate. It grew louder every moment. It
became first a noise, then a roar. At last the sound was articulate and
distinguishable.

"A Somerset! a Somerset!" [Note 5.]

But what had happened? Were they voices of Papists, or of Gospellers?

All at once they came pouring out of Aldgate. In front colours were
flying and fifes screaming, and behind ran the crowd, their voices
drowning the fifes. Isoult began to think of retreating and closing her
door, when she caught sight of Gillian Brent [a fictitious person], her
neighbour's daughter, who was struggling frantically to reach her
mother's house, being nearly carried off her feet by the press of
people. Gillian, with much difficulty, fought her way through, and
reached Isoult, who had beckoned her to take refuge with her. She came
in almost breathless, and sank upon the settle, completely worn out,
before she had strength to speak. When she was a little recovered,
Gillian said--

"My Lord Pro