cence
but an apotheosis of character that day. There in the little trim figure
with the curly hair kneeling before the Queen was England at its
best--England that sent two ships against an empire; and it was the
Church that claimed Sir Francis Drake as a son, and indeed a devoted one,
in a sense, that Anthony himself was serving here at Lambeth, and for
which he felt a real and fervent enthusiasm.

He was surprised a couple of days later to receive a note in Lady
Maxwell's handwriting, brought up by a special messenger from the Hall.

"There is a friend of mine," she wrote, "to come to Lambeth House
presently, he tells me, to be kept a day or two in ward before he is sent
to Wisbeach. He is a Catholic, named Mr. Henry Buxton, who showed me
great love during the sorrow of my dear husband's death; and I write to
you to show kindness to him, and to get him a good bed, and all that may
comfort him: for I know not whether Lambeth Prison is easy or hard; but I
hope perhaps that since my Lord Archbishop is a prisoner himself he has
pity on such as are so too; and so my pains be in vain. However, if you
will see Mr. Buxton at least, and have some talk with him, and show him
this letter, it will cheer him perhaps to see a friend's face."

Anthony of course made inquiries at once, and found that Mr. Buxton was
to arrive on the following afternoon. It was the custom to send prisoners
occasionally to Lambeth, more particularly those more distinguished, or
who, it was hoped, could be persuaded to friendly conference. Mr. Buxton,
however, was thought to be incorrigible, and was only sent there because
there was some delay in the preparations for his reception at Wisbeach,
which since the previous year had been used as an overflow prison for
Papists.

On the evening of the next day, which was Friday, Anthony went straight
out from the Hall after supper to the gateway prison, and found Mr.
Buxton at a fish supper in the little prison in the outer part of the
eastern tower. He introduced himself, but found it necessary to show Lady
Maxwell's letter before the prisoner was satisfied as to his identity.

"You must pardon me, Mr. Norris," he said, when he had read the letter
and asked a question or two, "but we poor Papists are bound to be shy.
Why, in this very room," he went on, pointing to the inner corner away
from the door, and smiling, "for aught I know a man sits now to hear us."

Anthony was considerably astonished to see this