Mary Collet moved slightly, and put her hand back upon the chair elbow, so that it partly and slightly touched Inglesant’s hand, at which movement, a spasm, as of pain, passed over Mr. Thorne’s features, and he drew himself up more sternly than before. "But I am idling my time vainly and sinfully here," he said, "in chambering and wantonness, when I should be buckling on my armour. Mistress Collet, I came here to wish you farewell. I am going to London in the good cause, and I shall in all human probability never see you more. I intreat you to listen to the bridegroom’s voice, and from my heart I wish you God-speed." As she rose, he pressed her hand lightly, and raised his eyes to heaven, as the Puritans were ridiculed for doing; then he bowed stiffly to Inglesant, and was gone. Inglesant followed him to the courtyard, where his horses were standing, but he took no further notice of him, and rode off through the gate. Johnny stood looking after him down the alley, between the latticed walks of the garden. At last he stopped and looked back. When he saw Inglesant still there, he seemed to hesitate, but finally dismounted and led his horse back. Inglesant hastened to meet him, with his plumed hat in his hand. "Mr. Inglesant," said the Puritan, speaking slowly and with evident hesitation, "I am going to say something which will probably make you regard with increased contempt not only myself, which you may well do, but the religion which I profess to serve, but which I betray, in which last you will commit a fatal sin. But before I say it, I beg of you, if a few moments ago I said anything that was unnecessarily severe and more than my Master would warrant, that you will forgive it. Woe be to us if we falter in the truth, and speak pleasant things when we should set our face as a flint; nevertheless, there is no need for us to go beyond the letter of the Spirit, and I almost feel that the Lord has disowned my speech, seeing that so soon after I fear I myself am fallen from Grace." He stopped, and Inglesant wondered what this long preamble might mean. He assured him that he bore no ill-feeling, but very much the contrary; but the Puritan scarcely allowed him to finish before he began again to speak, with still greater difficulty and hesitation.