lack! couldst not do a bit o' penance at after? Bess, it's thy
life that's in danger. Do be wise in time, lass."

"It is only this life," said Elizabeth quietly, "and `he that saveth his
life shall lose it.' They that be faithful to the end shall have the
crown of life.--Master Bailiff, I am ready."

The Bailiff looked up at the fair, tall, queenly maiden who stood before
him.

"I trust thou art ready to submit to the Church," he said. "It were
sore pity thou shouldst lose life and all things."

"Nay, I desire to win them," answered Elizabeth. "I am right ready to
submit to all which it were good for me to submit to."

"Come, well said!" replied the Bailiff; and he tied the cord round her
hands, and led her away to the Moot Hall.

Just stop and think a moment, what it would be to be led in this way
through the streets of a town where nearly everybody knew you, as if you
had been a thief or a murderer!--led by a cord like an animal about to
be sold--nay, as our Master, Christ, was led, like a sheep to the
slaughter! Fancy what it would be, to a girl who had always been
respectable and well-behaved to be used in this way: to hear the rough,
coarse jokes of the bystanders and of the men who were leading her, and
not to have one friend with her--not one living creature that cared what
became of her, except that Lord who had once died for her, and for whom
she was now, for aught she knew, upon her way to die! And even He
_seemed_ as if He did not care. Men did these things, and He kept
silence. Don't you think it was hard to bear?

When Elizabeth reached the Moot Hall and was taken to the prison, for an
instant she felt as if she had reached home and friends. Mrs
Silverside bade her welcome with a kindly smile, and Robert Purcas came
up and kissed her--people kissed each other then instead of shaking
hands as we do now,--and Elizabeth felt their sympathy a true comfort.
But she was calm under her suffering until she caught sight of Cissy.
Then an exclamation of pain broke from her.

"O Cissy, Cissy; I am so sorry for thee!"

"O Bessy, but I'm so glad! Don't say you're sorry."

"Why, Cissy, how canst thou be glad? Dost know what it all signifieth?"

"I know they've taken Father, and I'm sorry enough for that; but then
Father always said they would some day. But don't you see why I'm glad?
They've got me too. I was always proper 'feared they'd take Father and
leave me all alone with the children; and