"I!" she answered, with a smile. "I have done nothing. I have not been forsaken and ill dealt withal, as she was, of my best beloved, throughout many years. Compare me not with her! If I may sit down some whither in Heaven where I can but see her on the heights, that would be too good for me." "But art thou willing to see Christ only on the heights, Thekla?" said John. "No," she said, again with her sweet smile. "I should want to be close to Him. No, I could not be content to look on Him afar off." "In that case," said John, "there is no fear that He shall ask it of thee." No, there is no fear of His keeping us afar off. It is we who follow afar off. "Father, I will that they also, whom Thou hast given Me, be with Me where I am; that they may behold My glory, which Thou hast given Me." With our dear Master, it is never "_Go_, and do this hard thing, go and suffer this heavy sorrow, go and bear this weary waiting." It is always "_Come_ and do it;" or at least, "Let _us_ go." And now there came another martyrdom: the highest, and in some sense, the sorest of them all; yet, by many, not the last. There was room for many souls under the Altar: ay, and on the Throne. On the 22nd of March, with great pomp and splendour, "The Lord Raynald Pole, Cardinal Legate," was consecrated Archbishop of Canterbury. It was therefore apparent that Dr Cranmer had been degraded. Isoult said so to Mr Underhill, whom she met at the service at Mr Ferris' lodging, and his answer troubled her no little. "Nay, Mrs Avery," he replied; "'tis a sign that my Lord Archbishop is dead, for I do know by letter from Bernher, which is now at Oxford, that yesterday was appointed for his burning." And they had never heard one word after his recantation. Dead, without recanting it! Dead, denying Christ at his end, after confessing Him in his life! This was worse than many martyrdoms, for it was martyrdom of the soul. Was there no hope? Must this death be the second death? They knew that in the last hour, ay, even in the last minute, he might have repented unto life, and have again caught hold of Christ: but should they who had prayed so fervently for the lost brother, have no word to say so--no "this thy brother is alive again?" Must they never know whether to look for him on the right or the left hand of the King, till they should see him there in the last day? "I told you too true, Mrs Avery; my Lord Archbishop is dead." These were the first words which Isoult heard, when she came down the stairs on the following morning. "But how died he, Mr Underhill?" she cried anxiously. "Gloriously! Like a martyr and a Prince of God's Church, as he was, publicly repenting the recantation whereto he had set his hand from fear, and confessing Christ nobly before men, till at last they would not hear a word further--they haled and hurried him to the stake." "Thank God!" Her voice failed her; she could say no more.