e if you will postpone your marriage to Mistress Aveline for another
month or so. We will do our best to entertain Captain Radford in the
meantime, and on your return I will invite that excellent minister,
Master John Foxe, to leave his books and his parish for a time, and come
up and perform the ceremony. Her uncle Overton must also be drawn forth
from his quiet parish for a few days to assist in the ceremony."

I, of course, could not decline so flattering an offer as that now made
to me by my patron, though my dear Aveline, I must own, pouted her lips
and looked about to cry when I told her of it.

"If I had you here, I should not so much mind," she said; "but to let
you go forth into that land where the cruel Duke practises his
barbarities, and may perchance seize you and cast you into prison, I
cannot bear to think of it!" and again she burst into tears.

I tried to console her, believing that her fears were vain, and that,
under the protection of Sir Thomas Gresham and the English Government,
no harm could possibly happen to me.

I travelled down on horseback to Harwich, and from thence crossed in a
frigate, sailing for Ostend. From that city I travelled post, as Sir
Thomas himself had often done, at a rapid rate to Antwerp. Here I took
up my abode in the house of my patron's old servant, Jacob Naas, who had
been left in comfortable circumstances by the liberality of his master.
He had held to his former principles of conforming outwardly to the
Romish faith. I talked with him for some time before he knew who I was.
He then received me most cordially, and gave me the best entertainment
his house could afford. He shook his head when I asked how things went
on at Antwerp. "Oh! Master Verner," he said, "they are bad times. Our
artisans have fled, the commerce of the place is ruined, grass is
growing in many of our streets, springing up from the blood of the
citizens shed on them. And then look at that frowning fortress. While
that remains, how can we ever hope to regain our lost liberties? It is
refreshing to be able to speak to you of these matters, but I dare not
utter them aloud."

I asked after many of my old acquaintances. Again he shook his head
with a sorrowful look. Some were dead--broken-hearted; many had been
executed; others had fled, and the rest were living in poverty. A few
only were flourishing, and they were among those who had abandoned the
Protestant faith.

"Then I suppose that