Lord," said John Laurence.

"Didst thou truly propose to wed with her?"

"By God's leave, I did."

And Agnes Stone, standing in the crowd, heard herself thus confessed
before God and man--a confession which, she full well knew, stamped him
who made it, in the eyes of these his judges, with indelible disgrace.

"And what is thine opinion on the Sacrament?" inquired Bonner in a
confidential manner.

"It is a remembrance of Christ's body."

"Then what sayest thou of them which believe, as we do, that it _is_
Christ's body?"

"I say that they are deceived."

"Thinkest thou that all do err which believe not as thou dost?" said
Bonner with his usual bluster.

"I do say so, my Lord," was the determined answer.

Once more the prisoners were remanded, but only until afternoon. Agnes
did not dare to stay. She had ascertained from Cicely Marvell, whom she
saw in the crowd, that prisoners' friends were often permitted a
farewell interview between sentence and execution; and if she meant to
apply for that, she must not risk Mistress Winter's anger by remaining
now. Cicely promised to bring her news of the sentence.

"Lo' you now! here cometh my fair Lady Dominica!" was Dorothy's
salutation, as Agnes re-entered the kitchen. "What news, sweet Mistress
Blackfriars? Is thy goodly sweet-heart consecrate Lord Bishop of
Duneery, or shall he but be Master Doctor Dean of Foolscap?"

Agnes vouchsafed no answer.

"Woe betide us! here is Madam Gospeller hath lost her tongue!" cried
Dorothy. "Do but give me to wit, prithee, sweetest Sacramentary! So
dear love I all Black Friars, I may never sleep till I know."

"They be yet again remanded," replied Agnes dreamily.

Though she felt sure what the end would be, it was impossible to realise
it. Surely all that was passing must be some dreadful dream, from which
she would presently awake, perhaps in the little bed which used to be
hers in her aunt's pretty cottage, and find that all the past, for eight
years, had been a groundless vision.

Yet Dorothy's torturing pin-pricks were real enough. All day long she
persisted in worrying Agnes by pretended sympathy--so patently pretended
that it was excessively annoying. The towel was snatched from her as
she was washing her hands, with an entreaty that Dorothy might take that
trouble for her; the mop was hidden where she could not find it, with an
assurance that it would but increase the bitterness of her sorrow to
discover it;