ul contest in the
realm he leaveth. God defend the right! and God strengthen and comfort
us, for I warn you we shall need it."

"Alack! when shall all this end?" sighed Isoult.

"When Christ cometh again," answered Mr Rose.

"No sooner?" she cried.

"No sooner," said he. "There may be gleams of light before then; but
there can be no full day ere the Sun arise. There may be long times of
ease and exemption from persecution; but there can be no stable
settlement, no lasting peace, till He appear who is our peace. He that
is born after the flesh must persecute him that is born after the
Spirit. `If ye were of the world, the world would love his own.' It is
because we are not of the world that the world hateth us. Sister, let
us comfort ourselves and one another with these words. Christ will not
fail us; see we that we fail not Him. We may yet be called to go with
Him, both into prison and to death. It may be that `the Lord hath need
of us' after this manner. If it be so, let us march bravely in His
martyr train. We must never allow His banner to fall unto the dust, nor
tremble to give our worthless lives for Him that bought us with His own.
If we can keep our eyes steady on the glory that shall follow, the
black river will be easier to cross, the chariot of fire less hard to
mount. And remember, He can carry us over in His arms, that the cold
waters touch not so much as our feet."

When Mr Rose was gone, John said, his voice a little broken,--"Will _he_
be a martyr?"

"God avert it!" cried Isoult.

"Child!" said Dr Thorpe, solemnly, "'tis of such stuff as his that
martyrs be made."

But the King's work was not yet quite finished. He recovered from his
double illness.

The Londoners were terrified in the beginning of June by what they
regarded as a fearful sign from Heaven--a shower of what is commonly
known as "red rain." In their eyes it was blood, and a presage of
dreadful slaughter. The slaughter followed, whatever the shower might
mean. The last year of rest was at hand.

"What say you to my Lord of Northampton?" suddenly inquired John Avery
of Mr Rose, one morning when they met in the Strand.

It was an odd and abrupt beginning of conversation: but Mr Rose
understood its meaning only too well. The thoughts of the Gospellers
were running chiefly now on the dark future, and their own disorganised
condition.

"What had Nehemiah said in the like accident to Sanballat?" was his
suggestive