has,
she holds very dear.

The morning of the 22nd of January came.

"Know you, Mrs Avery," asked Esther, "if the Duke of Somerset is like to
be had afore the Council again, and when it shall be? I would like much
to see that noble gentleman, if I might get a glimpse of him."

Isoult referred the question to John, but he said he had heard nothing;
he was going to Fleet Street, and would see if he could find out. But
before he set out there came a rapping on the door, and when Ursula
opened it, there stood Mr Rose.

"Welcome!" said John to him. "Come in and give us your news."

"There shall be better welcome for me than them," he said, in his sad
grave manner. "Know you that even this day doth my Lord of Somerset
suffer?"

"Is there no help for it?" said Dr Thorpe, sternly.

Mr Rose answered sadly,--"There is alway help from God; but His help is
not alway to be seen of men. From men, in this matter, there is none
help whatever, remembering that he who should give it is my Lord of
Northumberland. You may ask the lion to have mercy on his new-caught
prey, but not John Dudley upon Edward Seymour. There is but this one
barrier betwixt him and--"

Mr Rose did not finish in words, but a slight motion of his hands over
his head [Note 1] showed well enough what he meant.

"But you count not that he would aim--" began Dr Thorpe.

Another motion of Mr Rose checked his further utterance.

"He that hath the thing in deed, doth sometimes all the better without
the name thereof," he said quietly.

"Where dieth he?" saith John, in a low voice.

"Upon Tower Hill," Mr Rose replied.

"I would like," he answered, "to see him once more, and hear what he
will say."

"You cannot," said Mr Rose. "There hath been commandment issued that
all householders (except specially summoned) shall keep their houses,
upon sore pain, betwixt six and eight of the clock this morrow, until
all be over. List! there goeth six of the clock now. I thought to have
gone somewhat further on my way, but now I must needs abide with you
these two hours."

So they sat down and talked, mournfully enough, until the clock struck
seven; and then Mr Rose, rising from his chair, said, "Brethren, let us
pray." John drew the bolts, and the curtains over the windows, and all
knelt down.

This morning England's heart was throbbing with pain; to-morrow she
would be mourning for her dead son. The only man whom England trusted
was dying on Tower Hil