XXII.
XXIII.
GEOFFREY THE LOLLARD.
CHAPTER I.
The Church Under Ground.
The sun had set some time ago. Only a long, narrow line of crimson could be seen in the distant western sky, and even that was fast disappearing. Darkness had shrouded almost entirely the thick woods and rocky dells of this wild region; and thick clouds rapidly climbing the sky, and chilly winds sighing among the branches of the trees, foretold a stormy night.
So thought the elder of two lads who were leaning against the trunk of an ancient oak that marked the spot where three paths crossed each other, and then vanished in different directions in the forest. He wrapped his cloak more closely around him, and advanced a few paces down one of the paths, paused as if to listen, and then returned, with a disappointed look, to his companion. "Not come yet, Geoffrey?" said the younger. "No, he could not have received the message. It is more than an hour past sunset, and he was to leave Thomas Flynman's at noon. Could he have been discovered? Arundel's men were seen in Bristol, they say, three days ago, and it is not like they came for naught."
The last words were spoken more to himself than to his companion, and again, with hasty steps, he strode away into the darkness. He was coming back again without any intelligence, when suddenly the bushes were parted, and a tall man stepped out and fronted the two boys. For a moment they hardly knew whether to consider him as friend or foe, but the stranger lifted the Scottish bonnet which had shrouded his features, and said in a low voice: