“You have put me out of the communion of a Church which I have quitted of my own accord for these ten years,” said Carver. “As to your anathemas, they affright me not. May they recoil with added strength on your own head.” “Away, thou miserable blasphemer!” cried Bonner, furiously. “I have done with thee for ever.” “No, not for ever, thou unrighteous judge,” rejoined Carver. “I summon thee to appear with me before the Judgment Throne of Heaven to answer for the blood thou art about to shed.” So awful was the tone in which these words were uttered, that a profound impression was upon all the hearers, and even Bonner trembled. But he quickly shook off his trepidation, and exclaimed,— “The gates of Heaven will be fast closed to you, unless you repent. You will now be delivered to the sheriffs, and by them will be taken to Newgate, where you will remain until after your trial. If you are condemned, as I nothing doubt you will be, you will be burned at Lewes, from the neighbourhood of which place you come, and where we learn there are many tainted with false doctrines, to whom your death may prove a salutary warning.” “It will strengthen them in their faith, when they see how a believer in the Gospel can die,” rejoined Carver. “Away with him!” cried Bonner, impatiently. “Away with him!” On this, the prisoner was removed from the court, and conveyed with two others, who had been examined before his arrival at the consistory, to Newgate. By command of Sheriff Woodrooffe, who accompanied him to the prison, he was placed in a noisome dungeon, and only allowed bread and water. After a few days’ confinement, he was brought up for trial, and, as had been foretold by Bonner, condemned to death at the stake. Orders were then given by Sheriff Woodrooffe that he should be taken to Lewes, under a sufficient guard, for immediate execution, and on the following day the little cavalcade set out on its journey, stopping for the first night at Croydon. The inhabitants of the place flocked forth to see the prisoner, and many of them expressed great commiseration for him, but he was not permitted by the guard to speak to them, or to receive any refreshments offered him. “Avoid him!” cried Father Josfrid, a Dominican friar by whom he was accompanied; “he is excommunicated, and if ye give him aught, ye will share in the heavy curse under which he labours.” From the exhortations of this zealous monk Carver was never for a moment free, though they produced no other effect upon him than annoyance. The escort was commanded by an officer named Brand, who had been selected for the business by Sheriff Woodrooffe on account of his hatred to the Protestant party. He was a sullen, sour-tempered personage, and showed his ill will to the prisoner both by word and blow. Carver, however, bore this harsh usage without a murmur.