Then grasping his hand he shook it warmly. "Farewell for the present, best and truest of friends," he said; then turning to William, "Follow me, nephew," he said. All the cloisters of Westminster were known to Sir John, and soon, by many an ancient and devious way, the two were in the Abbey. Ah, how its glorious quietude contrasted with the scene in the Star Chamber, with the tumult of the streets! A strange peace took possession of Sir John's soul as he gazed into the semi-darkness of the Chapel of King Edward the Confessor, where, over the altar, gleamed a dull red light. Sir John was no Romanist—nay, he was a somewhat ardent follower of Luther! But it was no hour to think upon mysteries and niceties. "Come with me, my dear nephew," he said. And under his guidance William in a moment found himself kneeling by his uncle's side in front of the glorious altar of King Edward's Chapel. Long they knelt in fervent prayer, commending the condemned prisoner to the mercy of Almighty God, and beseeching His blessing on the steps they were taking on his behalf. Then, comforted and refreshed, they rose and made their way towards Whitehall and Gray's Inn. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER IX THE DAWN OF HOPE It was past mid-day when Sir John and William reached Gray's Inn, and, as their footsteps reached the ears of the watchful and anxious Susan, she flew down-stairs to meet them. Already the fatal news had reached the girl's ears, but she was far too prudent a housewife and too loving a niece and sister to show her grief to men who had not dined, who were probably well-nigh spent with anxiety and need of bodily refreshment. Therefore, without a word, Susan led the way into the dining-room, where food and wine had been prepared through her loving care. Then, dismissing the servants, she said— "I myself have dined, now let me wait on you. Do not speak, my dear uncle; alas, I know all, and presently we will confer together; but now refresh yourself, for I see indeed that you need it." Sir John proceeded to obey his imperious housewife; yet, ere he sat himself at table, he embraced her affectionately and said— "You little know, dear girl, how sage and prudent is your advice, for I must needs tell you that in half-an-hour two visitors will be here to whom I must give immediate audience, for they come on matters of life and death!" "Oh, uncle, is poor Ralph's case so desperate?" cried Susan, with a terror-stricken face. "God only knows," replied Sir John; "but if there be any help in man, they who now are on their way hither are surely sent by Heaven to bring us that help, for they are none other than the Cardinal and the Spanish Ambassador." Susan's eyes sparkled with a sudden access of joy; yet she resumed her first insistence.