he clock. You will come into the house and eat?"

Richard declined. He had already secured a chamber at the "Blue Boar,"
and would not trouble his Lordship.

"Come, Master Carew," said he to his companion, "let us be on our way."

"Go ye for to see her?" inquired Lord Marnell.

"I will not lose sight of her," answered Richard, "until she be in the
Paradise of God!"

Long before nine o'clock on the morning of that 6th of March, a large
crowd was already gathered on Tower Hill. Some came there from a
feeling of revenge--glad to see a Lollard burned. Among these was
Archbishop Arundel. Some, from a feeling of deep pity for the poor
young girl who was to be almost the proto-martyr of the new faith.
Among these were Pynson and Carew. The chief part of the concourse,
however, shared neither of these feelings to any great degree, but came
simply to see a sight, just as they would have gone to see a royal
procession, or any other pageant.

As nine o'clock struck on the great bell of the Tower, the martyr
appeared, led forth between the sheriff and Abbot Bilson. She was
clothed in one long white garment, falling from her throat to her feet;
and, notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather, her head, arms, and
feet were bare. No fastening confined her golden hair, which streamed
freely over her shoulders and fell around her. She walked slowly, but
quite calmly. Arrived at the place of execution, the sheriff urged her
to confess.

"I will confess," said Margery, "to Him who can alone absolve me." And
lifting up her eyes, she said, "O Lord God, who art above all things,
and hast given Thy Son to die for us sely and sinful men, I confess to
Thee that I am a vile sinner, utterly unworthy of Thy grace and mercy.
That day by day, for twenty-three years, have I done what I ought not,
and said what I ought not, and thought what I ought not. That all my
life also have I left undone things the which I ought for to have done.
Wherefore, O Father, let it please Thee of Thy goodness to forgive me,
and to look not on me, but on Thy Son Christ, in whose rightwise-ness I
am rightwise, and who hath loved me as Thou hast loved also Him. O Lord
God, turn not away the face of Thy servant, whose heart Thou hast moved
to pray thus unto Thee!"

The Abbot and the sheriff were extremely annoyed, but they did not dare
to silence her, for the multitude hung breathlessly on her words.

"There's none so much harm in _that_, any way!"