Lamb. I wonder if they would have
all submitted, had it been their lot to stand before those judges
and hear the sentence pronounced."

A thrill seemed suddenly to pass through the crowd; the people
pressed forward and then surged back.

"They are coming! they are coming!" the whisper went round, and
Freda felt the blood ebbing away from her cheeks, and for a moment
her eyes were too dim to see.

The solemn procession of heads and masters, clerks and beadles,
seemed to swim before her in a quivering haze. Her strained eyes
were fixed upon those other figures bringing up the rear--those men
in the garb of the penitent, each bearing a fagot on his shoulder,
and carrying a lighted taper in his hand.

Was Anthony among them? She held her breath in a sickening
suspense, scarce knowing whether or not she longed to see him. She
knew almost each face as it loomed up into view: there was young
Fitzjames, their kinsman, looking shame-faced but submissive; there
were Udel and Diet, Bayley, Cox, and others whom she had never
suspected of having been concerned in the movement; and there,
almost at the rear of the long procession, walked Anthony Dalaber,
his dark, thin face looking worn and haggard, his hair tumbled and
unkempt, his dark eyes bent upon the ground, his feet slow and
lagging, but whether from weakness or unwillingness she was not
able to say. She held her breath to watch him as he appeared. She
saw the heavy frown upon his brow; she marked the change which had
come over him--the cloud which seemed to envelop him. She knew that
he was bowed to the ground with shame and humiliation, and with
that sort of fierce despair of which she had seen glimpses in his
nature before now.

Suddenly all the old tenderness rushed over her as in a flood. She
forgot her sense of disappointment in his lack of firmness; she
forgot how he had boasted of his courage and devotion, and how, in
the time of temptation and trial, he had let himself be persuaded
to take the easier path; she forgot all save that he had loved her,
and that she had loved him, and that love can surmount all things,
because its essence is divine. If he had fallen, he had suffered
keenly. Suffering was stamped upon every line of his face.

Was not God's love for sinners so great that before the world
repented of its wickedness He gave His Son to die for an atonement
and expiation? Must we then not love those who err, and who repent
of their weakness? Nay, are w