'When sentence of death is pronounced on a man,' said he, 'the Auto-da-fé is ordered, and at daybreak the big bell of the cathedral is tolled, and people come in crowds to see the fearful procession. 'The Dominicans walk first, with the banner of the Inquisition. Then come the penitents, who are to be punished in various ways, and after them, a cross is borne, following which walk the condemned men. The effigies of those who have fled, and the bones of the dead who, having been condemned after death, are not allowed to rest in their graves, but are brought in black coffins, are carried next. Then more monks and priests follow, and the dreadful procession passes on through the streets of the city to the church, where a sermon is preached and the sentences are pronounced. And then follow other dreadful ordeals, which end in death by being strangled or burned alive. 'My friends'--Sir Hubert glanced at me for the first time since he began to speak--'I am cutting short the awful details, for I see that some of you have not strength to endure the hearing of them. If it is so, what must it be to live in a land where such doings are customary, and where the condemned may be our own familiar friends or loving relations? My friends, this is a danger which is menacing England.' He paused. 'Menacing England!' The cry was caught up by many voices. 'England! How can that be? England is now a Protestant country.' 'This island of ours--this happy England,' said Sir Hubert earnestly, 'if one of the firmest lands in the Continent of Europe to resist papistry and the Inquisition, is in danger of yielding to that which will bring in both, with all their attendant evils and all their gruesome horrors.' 'But how?' cried the people. 'How can that be? The Reformed Church is now our Church. King Edward VI., our dear young king, is for the reformed faith.' 'Yes. Yes. So he is. But my friends'--Sir Hubert lowered his voice as one who spoke of secret matters--'you must know this: Edward, our king, is very ill, far gone in consumption, and even now dying.' 'Dying!' cried the people with deep groans. 'Dying? Edward, our king, dying? Oh, say not so! say not so!' they wailed. 'It is a fact. I come from Hampton Palace, where, the other day, I had an interview with him in his bedroom. "I am very young to die," he said, and he looked so sad I could have wept for him, but, the doctors having said I was to keep a cheerful countenance, I restrained myself. However, he is dying, I saw it plainly. Edward VI is dying.' 'Edward is dying,' echoed the audience, and then such lamentable sighs, groans and sounds of weeping ensued as touched me strangely, whilst Lady Caroline sobbed upon my shoulder.' 'And after he has gone,' Sir Hubert asked in grievous tones, 'what will become of England, if his Roman Catholic sister, Princess Mary, succeeds to the throne?'