very corner and cranny of the house. No
books, however, were discovered; and at length, threatening to pay
another visit shortly, the inquisitors went away to search other houses
in the neighbourhood; and in two or three, meeting with opposition, they
carried the owners off to prison. The most severe sufferer was Monsieur
Laporte, the whole of whose library was carried off, all his books more
or less being of a theological character.

The following day, in an open space in front of the fort, a pile of
faggots was seen, when the books were brought forth from the house into
which they had been thrown. Most of the population turned out to
witness the expected sight, shouting and jeering as book after book was
thrown on the pile, to which fire had been set. As each fresh batch of
books began to burn they shouted loudly, and when it was seen that most
of the books were Bibles, their shouts and cries and fierce execrations
grew louder and louder. This went on till all were consumed. The
Protestants remained at home during the period, sorrowful and cast down.
No one knew what persecutions they might be doomed to bear. Monsieur
Laporte went from house to house, endeavouring to console and support
his flock, reminding them all of the sufferings Christ's people had been
called on to bear from the earliest days to the present time, and urging
them to keep in view that crown of glory which He had prepared for all
who hold fast to the truth. So much had his faithful and gentle
character won the love of all except the most brutal, that many even
among those who had been perverted regarded him with affection, while
the priests, hearing him so highly spoken of, were afraid for the
present to persecute him further. They were, however, very active among
his congregation, whom they endeavoured by soft words and plausible
arguments to win over; but finding that they did not succeed, as in
reality only the frivolous and irreligious had hitherto been gained to
their side, they determined to use harsher measures.

One evening Nigel and Constance had gone to their bower in the woods,
where, concealed by the thickness of the surrounding foliage, they took
out their Bible and sat down on a bench Nigel had placed there. He had
been reading for some time to his young wife, occasionally stopping to
explain a verse or to ask her opinion; now turning back and comparing
text with text, both of them being so absorbed that they did not know
h