XXIII. Waiting for the Dawn *GEOFFREY THE LOLLARD.* *CHAPTER I.* _*The Church Under Ground.*_ The sun had set some time ago. Only a long, narrow line of crimson could be seen in the distant western sky, and even that was fast disappearing. Darkness had shrouded almost entirely the thick woods and rocky dells of this wild region; and thick clouds rapidly climbing the sky, and chilly winds sighing among the branches of the trees, foretold a stormy night. So thought the elder of two lads who were leaning against the trunk of an ancient oak that marked the spot where three paths crossed each other, and then vanished in different directions in the forest. He wrapped his cloak more closely around him, and advanced a few paces down one of the paths, paused as if to listen, and then returned, with a disappointed look, to his companion. "Not come yet, Geoffrey?" said the younger. "No, he could not have received the message. It is more than an hour past sunset, and he was to leave Thomas Flynman’s at noon. Could he have been discovered? Arundel’s men were seen in Bristol, they say, three days ago, and it is not like they came for naught." The last words were spoken more to himself than to his companion, and again, with hasty steps, he strode away into the darkness. He was coming back again without any intelligence, when suddenly the bushes were parted, and a tall man stepped out and fronted the two boys. For a moment they hardly knew whether to consider him as friend or foe, but the stranger lifted the Scottish bonnet which had shrouded his features, and said in a low voice: "The sword of the Lord, and of Gideon. That is the watchword, I believe. Have they come? Is all ready? It is through great peril that I have come here, and I must be on my way before the dawn." To these hurried questions the youths only answered at first by doffing their caps with profound reverence and respect; then a few low sentences were interchanged, and the three struck off down the path together. The elder lad led the way, only breaking the silence by occasional warnings about the road. "Have a care there, that root is high;" or, "Here is a low branch, beware!" Then suddenly he left the path, descended a steep bank, and, bidding his companions stop a moment, drew from under a large stone a pine torch and a little lamp. Having lighted the former, and replaced the latter in its concealment, he stepped down upon some stones which formed the bed of a running brook, while he held the torch low, so as to show the best stepping-places; and all passed on in the deepest silence.