This ruin was one of the meeting-places of the Lollards. Wales being their great asylum, it was convenient to have some spot a little beyond the foot of the mountains, where they might come, and find out whether it was safe to proceed any farther. There was always a small stock of provisions and firewood kept there, so that in case any preachers were obliged to spend the night there, they might not have to endanger themselves or others by venturing to any of the neighboring cottages. There was also a set of signals here, conducted on the same system, and connected with those at the foot of the oak near Forest Castle, and Bertrand carefully deciphered them and arranged them anew. He learned that the road was clear as far as the mountains for those going thither, but that no one from the mountains had better venture down. He then placed such marks as would indicate to those who should read them the number of the archbishop’s soldiers, the burning of the Tower, and the escape of De Forest and Cobham. So perfectly had this system of signals been arranged, and so well was their secret kept, that he knew in a few days the news of the escape of the two reformers would be known and rejoiced over by all the Lollards for many miles around, while their enemies would wonder how the intelligence was spread, and lay it all to the account of that diabolical assistance and knowledge of sorcery which they firmly believed was possessed by these outlaws. Before they retired to their rest, Cobham stood up and recited the ninety-first Psalm: "He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High, shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty." How true and precious did these promises appear to those homeless fugitives! Each took to his own heart such passages as seemed most appropriate to his own particular case; but each found in them the same great comfort--the blessed fact of God’s guardianship over those he loves, and their absolute and eternal safety, however earthly cares may oppress, dangers threaten, or sorrows impend. The soldier, Cobham, realized in the God whom he had learned to worship untrammeled by priestcraft and juggling tricks, a shield and buckler far stronger than he had ever borne in the wars under king Harry. The gray-haired knight, who had that day seen the home where his ancestors had lived and died, the birth-place of himself and his two sons, the inheritance which he had thought to leave to a long line of posterity, razed to the very ground by his enemies, and who now felt that he had no home in the wide world in which to shelter his gray hairs, crept up, as it were, to the promise, "I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress, in him will I trust," and with child-like faith, taking his Heavenly Father at his word, cast away his sorrows and cares.