es came slowly into the
room. A quick colour rose to her cheek, and she slightly compressed her
lips; but she came forward, the stranger, a dark good-looking man,
kissing her hand before she sat down.

"Is there aught new, Mr Monke?" asked Philippa, changing the
conversation.

"I have heard but one thing," said he, "yet is that somewhat strange.
My Lord's Grace of Canterbury is become a Gospeller."

"Wherefore, gramercy?" inquired Lady Lisle, scornfully.

"Wherefore not, I can say," said Philippa. "'Twill scarce serve to
curry Favelle." [Note 8.]

"Very little, as I think," answered Mr Monke. "As to the wherefore,
Madam, mecounteth my Lord Archbishop is gone according unto his
conscience. 'Tis his wont, as men do know."

"Humph!" was all Lady Lisle said.

"Men's consciences do lead them by mighty diverse ways now o' days,"
observed Philippa. "I little wis wherefore all men cannot be of one
fashion of belief, as they were aforetime. Thirty years gone, all was
peace in religion."

"The dead are at peace ever, Sister," said Frances, softly. "The living
it is that differ."

"`Living,' quotha!" exclaimed Lady Lisle. "Thy fashion of talk is aside
of me, Frank.--But what think you, Mr Monke? Hath every man the born
right to do that which is good in his eyes, or should he bow and submit
his conscience and will unto holy Church and the King's Highness'
pleasure?"

Lady Lisle spoke scornfully; but Frances turned and looked earnestly at
Mr Monke. Isoult did the same, and she wondered to see his face change
and his eyes kindle.

"Madam," said he, "maybe your Ladyship doth but set a trap for to hear
what I shall say touching this matter. But verily, if I must tell mine
opinion, in matters so near to a man's heart and conscience as are his
soul and her affinity with God, methinks neither the King's Highness'
pleasure, neither the teaching of the Church, hath much ado. I would
say that a man should submit his will to God's will, and his conscience
to God's Word, and no otherwise."

Lady Frances' eyes were radiant, and a quick flush was kindled on her
cheeks. Her mother rose from her chair.

"Are you a Gospeller?" she said, yet in a tone from which no one could
have guessed whether she were one herself or not.

"I am so, Madam," answered Mr Monke, his colour deepening, but his voice
as firm as ever.

"Then get you gone out of mine house," cried she in a rage, "and come
hither no more a-tempting of my