“And in good sooth it is pleasant to talk to thee, lady,” said the dame; “and thou seest, Mercy, how Mistress Edith can clear thee of those foolish doubts of thine, for all that she hath been little longer in the world than thine own silly self. And that is truth-like, without doubt, for the Lord taketh counsel with no one, and with the adversary least of all, not to say that he is the father of lies and deceitfulness. Well, I will think no more on’t. And thou art weary, Mistress Edith, and we do but keep thee from rest: do thou bestir thee, Mercy, and help. A fair good even, and good rest, and peace; and if the Lord will, I will call you early on the morrow.” That precautionary clause, “if the Lord will,” was any thing but a form in those days: solemn and seemly at all times, it had an especial weight in that season of singular peril, when those who parted for the night had before them the fatal probability that they should never receive mortal greeting again, upon an earthly morrow. Below, the Puritan sat with his humble host: their conversation was of ecclesiastical matters--the silenced ministers, the persecuted church--and, in the narrower parochial circle, of the wants and necessities of their own especial people. Upon the morrow, which was the Sabbath, Master Field intended to resume his place in his own pulpit, the conforming vicar who had supplanted him having already removed to a safer distance from the stricken city. “No fear of any hindrance, sir,” said John Goodman, in answer to a question from the minister; “we’ll be all but too glad to see you in the old place again: and for the other side, no fear of them, Master Field: for why? as many of them as could do aught in the way of shutting the church on you have gone away, or buried themselves in their own houses, for fear of this judgment; and for the rest, bless you! they’re in that state of trouble and trembling, that they’d listen to any man that spoke the Gospel to them, an’ he was but solemn and earnest enough; and, saving them that be solemn and earnest, there’s few other remaining in these parts to preach: the like of this terror sifts out the faint-hearted as you would sift seed. But whatever they hold for, they’ll be all glad to welcome you, sir, for they do all have a kind memory of you of old.” And the next day, a brilliant Sabbath, when May had well-nigh ripened into June, the ejected minister again preached in his former pulpit. The church was filled to overflowing. The air within was heavy with the perfumes used by the worshipers; a universal awe and solemn attention sat upon all faces; no longer a listless lounge, no longer a piece of necessary form, but a brief space instinct with momentous businesses--a swift crowd of weighty moments, which those earnest men and women, looking death in the face, discovered now, were all too short for special dedication to the wondrous interests of yon unseen eternity. The Lord was among them--a man of war! CHAPTER IV.