a moment."

He ran quickly out of the precincts, and into the first baker's shop he
saw, where he bought a small loaf of bread. Into it he pushed five
fourpenny pieces, then called groats, and very commonly current. Then
he fixed the loaf on the end of his staff, and so passed it through the
bars to Alice. This was all he could do.

"My poor dear heart, hast thou had no company in all this time?"

"I have had Satan's company a weary while," she answered, "but this last
night he fled away, and the Lord alone is with me."

"God be praised!" said Roger. "And how farest thou?"

"Very ill touching the body; very well touching the soul."

"What matter can I bring thee to thy comfort?"

"What I lack most is warmth and cleanly covering. I have no chance even
to wash me, and no clothes to shift me. But thou canst bring me nought,
Hodge, I thank thee, and I beseech thee, essay it not. How fares little
Christie?--and be all friends well?"

"All be well, I thank the Lord, and Christie as her wont is. It shall
do her a power of good to hear thou art found. Dost know when thou
shalt appear before the Bishop?"

"That do I not, Hodge. It will be when God willeth, and to the end He
willeth; and all that He willeth is good. I have but to endure to the
end: He shall see to all the rest. Farewell, dear brother; it were best
that thou shouldst not tarry."

As Roger came within sight of Staplehurst on his return, he saw a woman
walking rapidly along the road to meet him, and when he came a little
nearer, he perceived that it was Tabitha. Gently urging his horse
forward, they met in a few minutes. The expression of Tabitha's face
alarmed Roger greatly. She was not wont to look so moved and troubled.
Grim and sarcastic, even angry, he had seen her many times; but grieved
and sorrowful--this was not like Tabitha. Roger's first fear was that
she had come to give him some terrible news of Christie. Yet her
opening words were not those of pain or terror.

"The Lord be thanked you were not here this day, Roger Hall!" was
Tabitha's strange greeting.

"What hath happed?" demanded Roger, stopping his horse.

"What hath happed is that Staplehurst is swept nigh clean of decent
folks. Sheriffs been here--leastwise his man, Jeremy Green--and took
off a good dozen of Gospellers."

"Tom--Christie?" fell tremulously from Roger's lips.

"Neither of them. I looked to _them_, and old Jeremy knows me. I heard
tell of their c