"A gracious youth enow, but not over and above wise, unless he be belied," answered the archdeacon. "Nevertheless, they are a most loving couple. But I can not but fear lest great trouble should arise. Perhaps a war of the succession, like those which have heretofore distracted this poor kingdom. I know well enough what will happen to you and me and our likes, Brother Corbet, if the Lady Mary come to the throne—and that will be to have our beards singed an' we do not make up our minds to conform!" "Think you so?" said my husband. "Then will there be many singed beards in England." "Ay, but not so great a number as you think. I do believe more than half of those who have used the books of Common Prayer in this reign will burn them in the next, should it be their interest to do so. They are Papists at heart, and do but wait the occasion to throw off the mask!" "Nay, I think you are uncharitable," said my husband. "May be so. Mind, I say not all. There is old Latimer; he is of your kind, and would be burned by inch pieces before he would do such a baseness; and there are others like him." "And the Archbishop?" "I am not so very sure of the Archbishop," said our host, slowly. "He is a man who greatly fears the wrath of the king. I did never like his sending away his lawful wife to Holland so readily, because his late majesty took up against the married clergy. Courtiers are not the stuff to make martyrs. Nevertheless, if driven to the wall, he might die as bravely as another." The next day we met the news of the king's death. (He had been dead two or three days, but they about him concealed the matter as long as they could for the better furtherance of their plans.) In one town we passed through they had already proclaimed Queen Jane, and the mob were rejoicing after their senseless fashion, glad of any event, good or bad, which gave them the chance of eating and drinking. But I could not but observe many sullen and discontented faces, and in one village we passed through we were hooted with, "Shame on the married priest. Go on with thy leman, false priest, and see what awaits thee!" I must say my courage failed, and I prayed my husband to turn back, or at least seek some safe shelter till we should know how matters would turn. But Walter believed that his duty called him to go on, and when he began to talk about duty, I knew he had taken the bit between his teeth, and I might as well be silent; so I went forward, but with a heavy heart, and all the more because I had heard from the serving men, that their master was a devoted adherent of Queen Jane. I need not, however, have minded that. The Peckhams in general have a wonderful knack of turning up on the winning side just at the right moment. My old friend, Sir Edward, was an exception to the rule; one always knew where to find him—but in general they were a timeserving race, I must say.