Too well the boys knew the meaning of the signal. The road to which it referred led to London. On that road had been seen, that morning, two Lollards, one a preacher, for one of the sticks was pointed a little at the top, and the black beans represented the dreaded emissaries of the church. The boys looked at each other; one name was trembling on the lips of both, but it was too fearful a thought to utter. There had been no preacher to their knowledge in the forest save him whose holy words had filled them with such awe and rapture the previous night. For John Beverly to be taken before Arundel’s court was certain death, and death in its most fearful shape, the lingering agony of the chain and the flame. Geoffrey’s face grew pale, and he bent closer over the little signal as though he hoped to discover some additional circumstance that might contradict his suppositions. It was not absolutely certain that the prisoner and the preacher were the same. Beverly had intended to take the northern road; but it was very likely that he had heard of the band of soldiers there, and had turned aside. With this poor comfort they were forced to be content, and silently turned their steps toward the Tower. Sir John heard their tidings, and construed them even more favorably than his son. The preacher, he said, when he believed his duty called him in a certain direction, was not one to turn back through fear. He had firmly signified his intention of meeting an assembly of Lollards in Flintshire the following Sabbath. At any rate, it were better not to alarm Lord Cobham with these uncertainties. Hubert’s spirits rose at this new view of the case; but Geoffrey read in his father’s face a contradiction of his words. Still he said nothing, but followed him to the room in the hall. Lord Cobham laid aside the Bible from which he had been reading, and replied to their respectful salutations that he had slept well, and was quite refreshed. He then turned to Geoffrey, and looked earnestly at his tall, well-proportioned form and sinewy limbs. "Wouldst thou be a soldier, my son?" he said. "Yea, my lord," replied the boy, "so I be able to fight for freedom and God’s word." The old soldier’s face glowed at hearing the brave words; but he said nothing, only turned to the younger. "And what wouldst thou do, my son?" "O my lord!" said Hubert, his voice quivering with the strong emotion working in his breast, "could I but preach the word, as doth the good man who has just left us, then were I highly favored."