therans," suggested John.

"All one," answered he. "Lutherans burn not Gospellers, nor clap them
into prison neither. What have Gospellers to fear from Queen Anne's
daughter?"

"They may have something from King Henry's," answered John.

"Jack, thou deservest--I cannot stay to tell thee what: and I have
shouted and danced myself an hungered. Mrs Avery, have you to spare of
that goodly round of beef?"

"Pray you, sit down with us, Mr Ferris," said she; "we shall not lack a
shive for you."

"Ah, but if I lack half-a-dozen shives, how then?" said he.

"Sit down, man," responded John. "Why, George Ferris! you are in a
fever!"

"Pretty nigh," answered he. "Is there any man in London out of one this
morrow?--except you."

"I am too thankful to be merry," he replied. "But how goes it with
Cardinal Pole?"

"His death is hourly looked for," said Mr Ferris.

That afternoon, at the Cross and other places, was Queen Elizabeth
proclaimed. Even by night men scarcely seemed to have cooled down: so
glad was England of her Protestant Queen, so freely she breathed when
the hand of the oppressor was withdrawn. In the afternoon of Friday
died Cardinal Pole, outliving his cousin Queen Mary only twenty-four
hours. John reported that the very faces he met in the streets looked
freer and gladder, as if every man were now at his ease and king of
himself. Now, he thought, or, at the farthest, when the Queen was
crowned, would the prisons be opened. Who would come out of them?--was
a very anxious question; and yet more, Who would not come? That day
Marguerite wrote to Mr Rose, by Austin, who set out immediately to carry
the news to the banished Gospellers; and they looked forward hopefully
to seeing him ere long [Note 6]. Might they look, with any thing like
hope, to see another? Their judgment had given up hope long ago. But
the heart will hope, even against all, until it knows assuredly that
there can be hope no longer.

"Isoult," said her husband, when he came home in the evening, "I have
heard tidings that methinks shall make thee a little sorry."

"What be they, Jack?" said she.

"The death of Mr James Basset," he answered, "yestereven."

Isoult wrote a little loving note to Philippa; but she heard nothing
from her.

Again on the 28th was all London in a ferment of eager joy: for the
Queen came to the Tower, in readiness for her coronation. She came from
the Charter House, sitting in a rich chariot, arraye