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Ebook has 675 lines and 57128 words, and 14 pages

The Church Underground

Putting on the Yoke

Forest Tower and its Inmates

Farewell to Home

In London

The Trial

As the Stars forever and ever

Quiet Days

Hide and Seek in Forest Tower

The Birds Flown to the Mountains

The Lesson of Forgiveness

Caught and Caged

Kate the Quick-Witted

Remorse and its Effects

Plots and Counterplots

The Convent Ghost

A Midnight Supper

Free Again

From Darkness to Light

One more Lamb safe in the Fold

Father Paul

Meeting and Parting

Waiting for the Dawn

The sun had set some time ago. Only a long, narrow line of crimson could be seen in the distant western sky, and even that was fast disappearing. Darkness had shrouded almost entirely the thick woods and rocky dells of this wild region; and thick clouds rapidly climbing the sky, and chilly winds sighing among the branches of the trees, foretold a stormy night.

So thought the elder of two lads who were leaning against the trunk of an ancient oak that marked the spot where three paths crossed each other, and then vanished in different directions in the forest. He wrapped his cloak more closely around him, and advanced a few paces down one of the paths, paused as if to listen, and then returned, with a disappointed look, to his companion. "Not come yet, Geoffrey?" said the younger. "No, he could not have received the message. It is more than an hour past sunset, and he was to leave Thomas Flynman's at noon. Could he have been discovered? Arundel's men were seen in Bristol, they say, three days ago, and it is not like they came for naught."

The last words were spoken more to himself than to his companion, and again, with hasty steps, he strode away into the darkness. He was coming back again without any intelligence, when suddenly the bushes were parted, and a tall man stepped out and fronted the two boys. For a moment they hardly knew whether to consider him as friend or foe, but the stranger lifted the Scottish bonnet which had shrouded his features, and said in a low voice:

"The sword of the Lord, and of Gideon. That is the watchword, I believe. Have they come? Is all ready? It is through great peril that I have come here, and I must be on my way before the dawn."

To these hurried questions the youths only answered at first by doffing their caps with profound reverence and respect; then a few low sentences were interchanged, and the three struck off down the path together. The elder lad led the way, only breaking the silence by occasional warnings about the road. "Have a care there, that root is high;" or, "Here is a low branch, beware!"

Then suddenly he left the path, descended a steep bank, and, bidding his companions stop a moment, drew from under a large stone a pine torch and a little lamp. Having lighted the former, and replaced the latter in its concealment, he stepped down upon some stones which formed the bed of a running brook, while he held the torch low, so as to show the best stepping-places; and all passed on in the deepest silence.

A long and weary march it was; and all were glad when the guide stopped before what seemed a mere mass of vines and bushes, at the foot of a rock. These he drew aside with a careful hand, and disclosed a low door, through which they passed; the younger lad closed it softly again, and they advanced as before.

But it was now a very different way. The fresh, pure, evening air had been exchanged for the damp, musty smell of this underground passage. The sides were so close together that two persons could hardly have passed each other; the stranger had to stoop his head many a time to escape a blow from the jutting points of the roof; while the masses of rock which had fallen so encumbered the way that it required, at times, no small skill in climbing, to pass at all. Descending some flights of rough steps, and passing through another door, they found themselves in a much wider space, though it was still all dark and stony, but the roof was higher and the floor was smooth. A low hum of distant voices was now heard, which grew louder as they turned a corner and stopped before a door. A light tap was answered by one from within, and, as the door opened, such a flood of light poured upon them, that they shrunk back, with pained eyes, from the glare.

The light of many torches revealed a low, broad, windowless room, with a raised platform, and rude reading-desk at one end, and between thirty and forty persons--men, women and children. Some were engaged in earnest conversation, some sat in silent thought, while others were attending to the children.

At the entrance of the new comer, all arose and stood respectfully, while he threw aside his long cloak and cap, and stepped up to the platform. The two boys stood at his side, and all turned to him with expectant looks.

He held his hand over his eyes for a moment in secret prayer, and then, opening the huge leather-bound book on the desk, began to read. His rich, clear voice gave emphasis to every word in that glorious fourth chapter of Second Corinthians: "Therefore, seeing we have this ministry, as we have received mercy, we faint not; but have renounced the hidden things of dishonesty, not walking in craftiness, nor handling the word of God deceitfully; but by manifestation of the truth, commending ourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of God," etc. "We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed." Here the reader's tones became more firmly joyful, his form grew more erect, his whole countenance beamed. He read on through that chapter, and nine verses of the following one; then turning back to the eighth of Romans, he read on rapidly to the thirty-first verse, when his voice rose until it rang again, and the stone walls echoed back his exultant words: "If God be for us, who can be against us? He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things? ... Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?"

Here his voice faltered, and his clasped hands were raised, while the tears, rolling from his up-turned eyes, fell upon his white beard: "For thy sake, we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter." All the sorrow had left his tones now, his tall frame was raised to its utmost height, his clenched right hand was stretched toward heaven, the other grasped his robe, and he almost shouted:

"Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us."

His audience, hardly knowing what they did, rose to their feet, and repeated with him the closing verses.

When the last words were spoken, silence reigned in the room, only broken by the low sobs of some of the assembly. Then a feeble, aged voice, near the centre of the room, said: "Let us pray."

Every knee was bent while the old man prayed in simple, touching words for their persecutors, Arundel the archbishop, the king, and others, and then for many near and dear ones who were even then in the persecutors' power. But he prayed more that they might be enabled to hold fast the faith without wavering, than that they might be delivered from bodily pain.

As he mentioned each by name, the deep though suppressed groan from some weeping member of the assembly told where a loving heart was longing for the safety of some dear one. But when they arose from their knees, all were calm and composed, grave but not sad, for the words of comfort had entered into many hearts.

Afterward the preacher discoursed for some time on the disputed doctrines of the day, proving the Lollard views by passages from the Bible, and from the writings of Wickliffe. He closed with an earnest appeal to all to stand fast in the faith. "Lo, friends and brethren, I know the power of Antichrist. Full many times have I suffered bonds and imprisonments for the truth's sake, yet therefore do not I boast. I do triumph, but not through myself, but that Christ may be glorified in my poor body. Yea, the flames and the stake would be welcome to me, if through my pains and steadfastness his name might be glorified and souls turned to him. And now I go to London, and it seemeth to me it is the Lord's will that there I should end this earthly journey. Even so, come, Lord Jesus! Henceforth is laid up for me a crown of righteousness. Come then, my soul, and be of good courage. Look at the home prepared for thee in heaven. The smart of the flames is naught when it leadeth to everlasting glory above. Be of good courage, O my soul, for behold, Christ giveth thee the victory!"

Some of the women and children now prepared to depart, but not by means of the secret passage, which was known only to a few. The preacher was surrounded by the men, and eager questions were interchanged in regard to the safety of various individuals. A fine-looking, elderly man, evidently the father of the two boys, related the seizure of Lord Cobham and his trial, his manly defense before the council, his condemnation and imprisonment in the Tower, and the faint hopes which were entertained of his escape.

All this was new to the preacher, who had only just arrived from the southern counties; and he received the tidings with surprise and grief.

"Lord, how long," he said, "how long shall thy people be down-trodden by the oppressor? Look upon thy church lest we be utterly consumed."

Refreshment was now brought to the stranger, for it wanted but two hours of daybreak, and he must soon be on the way.

Geoffrey, meanwhile, had gone through the secret entrance to the wood, to see if any danger were near, if any spy lurked on the road through which the traveller must pass. He had not been long gone before he returned, bringing with him another stranger, also closely wrapped in the coarse, loose cloak usually worn by the peasantry. His garments were dripping with the rain, which had fallen plentifully during the night, and stained with mud; and his wooden shoes were filled with water. Such was the person that Geoffrey, with a wondering, anxious look, presented to his father and the preacher. All he knew was that the stranger had given the pass-word, which entitled him to the secret passage through the rocks. He looked attentively upon the men before him, and then threw away his cloak, and raised the cap from his brow. For a moment they looked at the features thus suddenly disclosed, when, with a cry of joy, the preacher flung himself on the ground before him, clasping his knees, and exclaiming: "My lord, O my lord, alive and safe! My God in heaven, this is too much mercy! What, John De Forest, know you not the Lord of Cobham, the father of the church?"

Great joy was there over their distinguished guest; and ejaculations of wonder and thanksgiving burst forth as he detailed his trial, imprisonment, and escape from the Tower. He concluded by craving protection and concealment from De Forest until he should rest, and find an opportunity for escaping to Wales. Gladly were refreshment and rest given to the weary noble, than whom a better was not to be found in all England: the supporter of the poor, persecuted Lollards; the firm advocate of the Bible and a reformed church; the humble servant of God in the darkest age of superstition, priestcraft, and bigotry.

But now it was time the preacher should depart, for he must put many miles between him and Forest tower before the day broke. He rose, and giving his hand to Cobham, said:

"Be of good courage, my lord, Christ giveth the victory."

"Truly, John Beverly," said Cobham, "the Lord is good, and I shall trust in him. When shall we meet again?"

"In the Lord's kingdom," said Beverly, a smile beaming upon his noble features; and, pointing to the remains of the meal, he added: "At the supper of the Lamb, my lord, who so loved the world that he gave himself to the death for it, and, for whose sake, we are willing to lay down our lives for the brethren."

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