it were time they let him forth
from his prison. It is not right nor justice that men should be
done to death in noisome dungeons when no crime has been proven
against them."

The girls' faces were pale with horror and pity.

"Canst thou do nothing, Arthur?" pleaded Magdalen. "Thou art rich,
and powerful, and well known to so many. Canst thou do nothing to
aid them?"

"I will do what I can, once the act of penance be over," he
answered. "Till then it is useless to stir, for they will seek to
work upon them to the very last moment by threats, or by argument,
or by entreaty. Should they prove obstinate to the last, I know not
what will befall. But if they are like to perish in the prison, it
may be that the dean's word will prevail for their release. He is
grieved that one so godly in his life and conversation should
suffer so cruelly. When this act has been accomplished, belike they
may listen to the words of his friends, unless the cruel will of
the bishop prevail, and he is sent to a fiery death."

It was a very quiet wedding on the morrow that united Magdalen
Langton and Arthur Cole as man and wife. They were married at an
early hour in St. Mary's Church, and set off that same day for the
old manor house, which was to be their future home. Freda could
not, however, be persuaded to accompany them on that day.

"I must see the fire at Carfax," she said; "I would see it with
mine own eyes. Afterwards I will come to you, and will bring
Anthony with me; but not till I have seen this thing for myself. I
cannot help it. I must be there."

Magdalen entreated awhile, but Freda stood firm.

"I must see the fire at Carfax," she answered; and at last they
forbore to press her, knowing her mind was made up.

It wanted but a few days to Easter when the day came for which
Freda had waited with feverish, sleepless eyes. The sun rose clear
and bright birds carolled in the gladness of their hearts; all
nature was filled with the joy of happy springtide; but there was a
heavy cloud resting upon Freda's spirits.

"I will not blame him; I will speak no word of reproach. In this
hard strait should I have been more brave? It may be he is doing
what he believes most right. I will not believe him unfaithful to
his truer self. Who can judge, save God alone, of what is the most
right thing to do in these dark and troublous days?"

She rose and donned a black gown, and shrouded herself in a long
cloak, the hood of which concealed