and triumph, such a
sense of relief and freedom, as was undoubtedly the case--and yet that
men bore the former and made no sign, waited for the latter with
indescribable longing, but without any attempt to bring it about.
Perhaps we must attribute this partly to that law-abiding instinct
inherent in the ordinary Englishman: yet I think still more to the fact
that as a rule, at all times, in all respects, the majority of the
nation are indifferent. There were men who died at the stake in defence
of the free Gospel. There were men who kindled those fires, and stamped
out the truth, so far as in them lay. But these, even when put
together, were still a minority. The majority were the watchers who
stood round the stake, and who cared nothing for the cause on either
side--who went to see a martyrdom as a Spaniard goes to see a
bull-fight, with neither sympathy nor enmity towards the martyr. Of
course, these would be, as to religious profession, what they found it
to their own interest that they should be. The most popular and crowded
of all the Seven Churches is the Church of Laodicea.

"_Because_ thou art lukewarm... I will spue thee out of My mouth."

It was not without some difficulty that Agnes contrived to enjoy an
occasional, and always short, interview with her betrothed. Such
interviews were generally followed by forced audiences of Dorothy, who
professed an entirely hypocritical interest in the progress of the
love-match, and did her best to make Agnes recount what her lover had
said to her. Agnes, however, was wise enough to keep out of the trap
laid for her, and Dorothy took little by her motion.

Sometimes the lovers met for a few minutes before or after the reading
in the Cathedral; sometimes there could be a few words as Agnes carried
her pails to and from the Horsepool; once or twice, when Mistress Winter
had barred the door on her for misdemeanour, they walked to some quiet
nook in the fields near Clerkenwell, refreshing themselves with converse
on the one grand subject nearest to both hearts--nearer even than each
other. But the readings in the Cathedral were becoming much fewer than
of old. It was a perilous thing to do now, and John Laurence was a
marked man. Not that he feared danger: his motto was that of the old
French knight--"Fais ce que dois, advienne que pourra!" But his brother
clergy were afraid lest it should be known that such compromising
proceedings as regular Scripture lessons