" and O England, "hear the word of the Lord!" Art thou yet
warm in thy first love? Has there been no looking back to Sodom, no
longing for the flesh-pots of Egypt, no eyes wandering toward the house
of Baal? God grant that thou mayest not lose thy candle! It was
wrought of blood and in tears: is it a light thing that thou shouldst
let it be put out?

One night in November came in Mr Underhill, and an hour after him, Mr
Ferris.

"Welcome, George!" said Mr Underhill. "Any news abroad?"

"Have you heard none to-night?" said he.

"Not so much as would go by the eye of a needle," he answered. "Is
there tidings?"

"The Bishop of Winchester is dead."

Mr Underhill sprang to his feet with a cry of exultation.

"`Glory to God in the highest!' yea, I might go further--`on earth
peace!' Jack, let us sing the _Te Deum_."

"Not in my house," said John, quietly.

"Thou recreant faint-heart! What meanest?"

"I am ready enough to sing the _Te Deum_, Ned," pursued John, "but not
for so terrible a thing as the casting of that poor sinner, with the
blood of God's saints red upon his soul, into the lake that burneth with
fire and brimstone."

"How can you stay to think of it?" cried Mr Underhill in his ringing
voice. "Is that blood even now not crying unto God? Are Rogers and
Bradford, are Ridley and Latimer, yet avenged? Shall not the saints
wash their feet _in_ the blood of the ungodly? Yea, let them fall, and
never rise up again! Shall we be thus slack to praise God for freedom?"

"Wait till we are free," said John, drily.

"And moderate your voice, Ned Underhill," added Mr Ferris, "if you would
be free long."

Mr Underhill laid his hands upon John's shoulders.

"Look me in the face, John Avery," answered he, "and tell me what you
mean. Think you this great palace of cruelty and injustice built up by
him shall not crumble to dust along with Stephen Gardiner?"

"I doubt it very greatly," he replied.

"Assuredly not," said Marguerite Rose, "so long as the King Philip is in
this country, and the Bishop of London. It might ask Dr Gardiner to
build the palace, but I think they shall be able to keep it standing."

"But King Philip is not in this country," said Mr Underhill.

"He is master of it," said John.

"Alas for my _Te Deum_, then!" sighed Mr Underhill, shrugging his
shoulders. "But I hope you may yet find you mistaken, Jack Avery."

"Not more than I, Ned," said John, sadly.

John Avery did no