"But in the night, I was waked from my sleep by the dreadfullest sound ever I heard. Surely I was deceived, but it did seem to me like shrieks of some poor wretch in mortal pain. Maria awaked also, and sitting up in her bed, she cries under her breath, `All the saints preserve us!' "`What can it be?' said I. "`Senora,' quoth she, `may it please your serenity, I know not. I have heard it once afore, some time gone, but none would tell me the cause thereof. Methinks the Castle is haunted by goblins.' "And she fell to crossing her and saying Ave Marys by the score. "The screaming ceased not for some time, and then by degrees; but I slept not again. "The morrow after came Dona Leonor into my chamber; and after some talk on things indifferent, she saith, `Did aught disturb you this night?' "`Dona Leonor, what was it?' said I. "`What heard you, Dona Ines?' quoth she. "`Why,' said I, `horrible screaming, like unto the shrieks of a soul in Purgatory.' "`We hear them sometimes,' she answered. "`But what is it?' I repeated. "`Dona Ines,' said she, `there are things not to be spoken about. But do not you fancy that the Castle is haunted by goblins.' "And not an other word might I have from her. But I am assured there is some terrible matter afoot in this Palace; and I would I were safe thereout. "I must close my letter somewhat shortly, for Dona Isabel de Alameda, that promised me to send it with one of hers that goeth to Cales [Cadiz], hath sent her brother's son, Don Juan de Alameda [fictitious], to request the same, and I must not keep him awaiting. Be not thou disturbed, dear heart; God is as near to Tordesillas as to London, and He is stronger than all evil men and devils. Unto His keeping I commend thee. From Tordesillas, this Monday. "Thine own to her little power, Annis Holland. "I pray thee, make my commendations unto Mr Avery and all thine." When Christmas Day came, the Averys did what half London was doing: they walked down to Westminster, to the great pulpit set up in the King's garden. Into the pulpit came a rather tall, spare old man, with a wrinkled face, a large Roman nose, shaggy eyebrows, and radiant, shining eyes. And before the sermon was over, the eyes had kindled with a live coal from the altar of the Lord, and the firm voice was ringing clearly to every corner of that vast gathering. The preacher was Hugh Latimer.