her hath
suckled and nourished from her own grace and bounty were every of them
as true as thou art, who yet receivest not of her temporal favours, then
would her kingdom be enlarged, and her arms should outstretch to the
utmost verge and compass of all visible things. But there be evil men
and seducers abroad, traitors to their altar and their faith." Here he
paused, but presently continued, "My friends, though our religion be
meek and lowly, yet does it not deny to us the comforts but sparingly
scattered through this vain and perishing world."

His grace here filled a cup of spiced sack, inviting Paslew to partake
of their humble entertainment. Bewildered and intimidated, he yet obeyed
with all due reverence and courtesy.

"Confusion to the heretic king!" cried he on the left of the archbishop,
filling his glass, and at the same time taking especial note that the
guests should repeat this bold and startling treason.

"Lord D'Arcy," said one of the guests, "thou hast imbibed that wish so
oft in thy drink, that should the king catch thee he may find it
branded in thy four quarters, when they are cut up to ornament his
majesty's posterns."

"And what might he find on thine, Norton?" said the fiery leader.

"A cook's rolling-pin and a mutton pasty." A loud laugh here announced
the hit, of which this sally was the bearer, it being levelled directly
at the well-known propensities of the personage to whom it was
addressed.

"Come, friends all," said the archbishop; "let not the gibe and jest go
round; there be matters of graver import that should occupy us this
night. To-morrow, let the elements be propitious, and the day is won."

"Od's life," said Aske; "surely the rain will not again prevent us from
passing the river, as it did in our last campaign."

"If it do," cried a deep and melancholy voice from the lower end of the
table, "then will I say this Pilgrimage of Grace is the device of man,
and not of God, and the work will not prosper."

This ominous anticipation seemed to strike terror into the most
stout-hearted. "Foul fa' the croaking raven!" said Aske. "No good comes
on't, when the Lord of Ravenswood breaks from his usual silence.
Mischief follows, safe as the bolt after the flash."

"Hush! my son," said the archbishop to this bird of ill-omen; "thou
speakest unwisely. 'Tis not for us to adjudge the displeasure of Heaven
upon slight testimonies. He trieth our faith, when the dark cloud
overshadoweth His