Mr Rose answered sadly,—“There is alway help from God; but His help is not alway to be seen of men. From men, in this matter, there is none help whatever, remembering that he who should give it is my Lord of Northumberland. You may ask the lion to have mercy on his new-caught prey, but not John Dudley upon Edward Seymour. There is but this one barrier betwixt him and—”
Mr Rose did not finish in words, but a slight motion of his hands over his head (Note 1) showed well enough what he meant.
“But you count not that he would aim—” began Dr Thorpe.
Another motion of Mr Rose checked his further utterance.
“He that hath the thing in deed, doth sometimes all the better without the name thereof,” he said quietly.
“Where dieth he?” saith John, in a low voice.
“Upon Tower Hill,” Mr Rose replied.
“I would like,” he answered, “to see him once more, and hear what he will say.”
“You cannot,” said Mr Rose. “There hath been commandment issued that all householders (except specially summoned) shall keep their houses, upon sore pain, betwixt six and eight of the clock this morrow, until all be over. List! there goeth six of the clock now. I thought to have gone somewhat further on my way, but now I must needs abide with you these two hours.”
So they sat down and talked, mournfully enough, until the clock struck seven; and then Mr Rose, rising from his chair, said, “Brethren, let us pray.” John drew the bolts, and the curtains over the windows, and all knelt down.