head, with the bland intimation that it was to dress her
hair for the wedding; nor the presentation, in solemn form, of torn and
faded ribbons, accompanied by the information that they would become her
sweetly on her bridal. Of all approach to wedding attire poor Agnes was
devoid. She had but two gowns in the world--the washed-out linen
bed-gown and stuff petticoat in which her work was generally done, and
the well-patched serge which replaced it upon holy days. But Agnes bore
all these outrages with a patience born of long practice, and nourished
by glad hope. It was now May, and it had been agreed with John Laurence
that the twenty-ninth of the following March was to set her free.

They would gladly have made arrangements for an earlier date, had it
been possible. But John Laurence was not much richer than Agnes
herself, and they had to wait till he thought that he could reasonably
afford to marry. Beside this, it was a most perilous time for a priest
to think of wedlock. Things might change. Hope told that "flattering
tale" which she is so fond of recapitulating to young people--often most
unjustifiably. Who could tell what might happen, if they waited?

Meanwhile, what was happening was not particularly cheering, at least to
the apprehension of the Gospellers. Wyatt's insurrection had been put
down, and its leader beheaded; and its fruitlessness was shown by the
setting out of the Queen's envoys to escort Philip to England, while
Wyatt yet lay in prison waiting for his trial. The Princess Elizabeth,
sent to the Tower in March, on charge of complicity in Wyatt's evil
deeds--who will ever know whether it was true?--had been released (at
Philip's request, it was said) a few days before Corpus Christi.
Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer lay imprisoned at Oxford, and under
sentence of death. Nearly every day somebody was exhibited in the
pillory--women as well as men--the most frequent charge being, as it
appears in the diary of that comical speller, Mr Henry Machyn--"spekyng
yll of good Qwen Mare." The difficulty which presents itself to the
present generation is, how else her subjects could well speak of her
proceedings. However, they could have held their peace. Probably the
discreet portion of the community did so.

It may seem a little strange, on the surface, when one considers how it
was that the reign of Mary was felt so galling, that the accession of
Elizabeth was welcomed with such a fever of delight