At this moment the sheriff threw the Prayer-book into the fire, commanding the assistants to heap on fresh fagots as fast as the others were consumed; and this was continued till the sufferer was reduced to ashes. Thus died the Proto-martyr of the Protestant Church. End of the Fourth Book. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration] BOOK V. THE INSURRECTION. CHAPTER I. WHAT PASSED BETWEEN OSBERT AND CONSTANCE IN THE SACRISTY. On the King’s departure from the sacristy, as previously narrated, Constance immediately released Osbert from the ambry, and the unhappy lovers, rushing into each other’s arms, forgot for a short space the perilous position in which they were placed. At last, Osbert, partially disengaging himself from the mistress of his heart, exclaimed with bitterness,— “What have we done that we should suffer thus severely? Heaven seems never weary of persecuting us. Yet we have committed no fault save that of loving each other.” “Alas!” cried Constance, “it would seem that we are never to be united on earth, since we meet only for a moment, to be torn asunder. We must look for happiness beyond the grave.” “That is but cold comfort, Constance,” cried Osbert. “I cling to life and hope. I yet hope to make you my bride, and to spend years in your society—happy, happy years, which shall make amends for all the misery we have undergone.” “It would indeed be bliss to dwell together as you say,” replied Constance; “but fate opposes us, and to struggle against our destiny would be vain. The trials we experience are given us for our benefit, and ought to be borne cheerfully. At this very moment, within a short distance of us, a martyr is purchasing, by a cruel death, a crown of glory and a place in heaven. Hark to those cries!” she exclaimed, as shouts were heard without; “perchance he is now bound to the stake. I am thankful to be spared the frightful spectacle, but I can pray for him here.” And she knelt down on the pavement, and prayed aloud. While she was thus engaged, Osbert glanced anxiously around in search of some means of escape, but could discover none. The sacristy was lighted by two lancet-shaped windows, but they were narrow, and barred outside. “Despair!” he exclaimed, in half-frenzied accents, as his search concluded. “Flight is impossible. We are lost.” But Constance’s thoughts were with the martyr in Smithfield, and the appalling scene seemed to be passing before her eyes. Suddenly she shrieked out, “The fire is kindled. I can see the red reflection of the flames through yonder windows. Oh, it is horrible. Would I were back with the good Cardinal!”