He had seen her on whom all England bent its thoughts at this time, who
was a crowned Queen, with broad lands and wealth, who called Elizabeth
"sister"; yet who was more of a prisoner than any in the Fleet or
Westminster Gatehouse, since those at least could have their friends to
come to them. Her hidden fires, too, had warmed him--that passion for
God that had burst from her when her gaoler left her, and she had flung
herself on her knees before her hidden Saviour. It may be he had doubted
her before (he did not know); but there was no more doubt in him after
her protestation of her innocence. He began to see now that she stood
for more than her kingdom or her son or the plots attributed to her,
that she was more than a mere great woman, for whose sake men could both
live and die; he began to see in her that which poor Anthony had seen--a
champion for the Faith of them all, an incarnate suffering symbol, in
flesh and blood, of that Religion for which he, too, was in peril--that
Religion, which, in spite of all clamour to the contrary, was the real
storm-centre of England's life.
He turned then to the old man with a suddenly flushed face.
"A message will always reach me at Mistress Manners' house, at Booth's
Edge, near Hathersage, in Derbyshire. And I will come from there, or
from the world's end, to serve her Grace."
CHAPTER V
I
"First give me your blessing, Mr. Alban," said Marjorie, kneeling down
before him in the hall in front of them all.
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