was harassing, but a greater trouble came in the second winter.
Good Dr. Eales was failing, and the tidings of the King's execution were
a blow that he never recovered. Mrs. Lightfoot had tears in her eyes
when Stead asked after him, week by week, and she could only say that he
was feebler, and spent all his days in prayer--often with tears.

At last came peace. He lay still and calm, and sent a message that young
Kenton should be brought to him for a last farewell.

And as Stead stood sorrowful and awed by his bed side, he bade the
youth never despair or fall away from his hope of the restoration of the
Church.

"Remember," he said, "she is founded on a rock, and the gates of hell
shall never prevail against her. She shall stand forth for evermore as
the moon, which wanes but to wax again; and I have good hope that thou
wilt see it, my son. He that shall endure unto the end, the same shall
be saved."

Then Dr. Eales pointed to a small parcel of books, which he had caused
Mrs. Lightfoot to put together, telling Steadfast that he had selected
them alike for devotion and for edification, and that if he studied
them, he would have no doubt when he might deliver up his trust to a
true priest of the Church.

"And if none should return in my time?" asked Steadfast.

"Have I not told thee never to despair of God's care for His Church? Yet
His time is not as our time, and it may be--that young as thou art--the
days of renewal may not be when thou shalt see them. Should it thus be,
my son, leave the secret with one whom thou canst securely trust. Better
the sacred vessels should lie hidden than that thou shouldst show thy
faith wanting by surrendering them to any, save according to the terms
of thy vow. See, Steadfast, among these books is a lighter one, a
romance of King Arthur, that I loved well in my boyhood, and which may
not only serve thee as fair pastime in the winter nights, but will mind
thee of thine high and holy charge, for it goeth deeper than the mere
outside."

His voice was growing weak. Mrs. Lightfoot gave him a cordial, and Stead
knelt by his bedside, felt his hand on his head, and heard his blessing
for the last time. The next market day, when he called at the good
bakester's stall, she told him in floods of tears that the guest who had
brought a blessing on her house, was gone to his rest.

CHAPTER XVII. THE GROOM IN GREY.

"Heroes and kings, in exile forced to roam,
Leave swell