possible, she thought
him even gentler and kinder than he used to be; yet even more grave and
quiet. She asked him what he thought of Thekla, and was slightly
comforted to hear him say that he found her better than he dared to
hope.

"She hath suffered much, poor child!" said Isoult.

"Poor child!" he echoed. "It was not in her nature to do other."

"And what think you," she asked, "of the chances touching Robin?"

"Mrs Avery," said he, "there are no chances in God's government. And
this is a matter wherein we cannot so much as guess what may have been
His will. Yet if you would know what I think most likely in mere human
reasoning, I confess I have little hope of his life."

Isoult's heart sank like lead: she felt now how much hope she had
nursed, though she thought it so little. But her faith in Mr Rose's
forecast was great. And Lady Ashley's words came back to her--"God
knoweth best when His corn is ripe." Ah! how afraid she was that that
sheaf was ripe, and had been carried into the garner! Yet could she
tell God that He had judged ill, or that He should have left His fair
sheaf to the spoiling, for her pleasure?

When John came home one evening, he told them that he had met with Mr
Underhill, who held by the hand his little Guilford. And coming through
Cornhill, at the shop-door of a bowyer were bows and quivers of shafts;
and Guilford, pulling his father's hand, cried, "Father, Father, do buy
me a bow and arrows!"--"Buy thee a bow and arrows, quotha!" answered Mr
Underhill, "a shred and snip like thee!"

"What wouldst thou do an' thou hadst a bow and arrows, Guilford?" said
John. "Shoot all the Papists," replied the child. "Thou bloodthirsty
little ruffian!" cried Mr Underhill, yet laughing. "Nay," said John to
him, "blame not the child: he doth but take mightily after a certain
father of his, that I know." Whereat (said John) Mr Underhill laughed
till the tears ran from his eyes.

Mr Rose preached his first sermon since coming home, in the pulpit of
Bow Church, on the 8th of January. It was a glad day to the Gospellers.
His text was, "When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, we
were like them that dream." He spoke highly of the Queen, saying that
"she had suffered for the Gospel, and should know how to be compatient
[sympathising] with other that had suffered." Of himself he said
little; but of Christ much.

And when he came out of the church, dozens and dozens of hands were he