"And what were the apostles and saints but common simple men like to us?" asked Thomas Sprat. "Are not all God's children called to be saints, and does He not promise the same grace freely to all if we are but faithful?"
"Alas, my faith is not like yours," said Master Dennett. "You are, besides, an old man, and must soon die at any rate; but I cannot but bethink me of my young wife and her babes, and the happy fireside I left but yesterday, with my old mother sitting in the chimney corner with my youngest-born on her knees. Little did I think as I bade them farewell and went out to my business, that the evening would find me here."
And the poor man threw himself on the pallet again in an agony of grief.
"It is indeed hard for flesh and blood," said the old man. "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. We will pray for and with you, brother, that you may have strength in the evil day."
The night passed without disturbance, and in the morning came another basket of provisions from home.
"Your father has sent meat and alms to all the prisoners—debtors and all," said the jailer; "and a handsome present to my wife as well. He might have spared that, but he is a kind and liberal man. Truly, you have no cause to thank them who brought you into this scrape."
"Nobody led me into it, good Master Davis," said Jack. "I thank you heartily for bringing me these things. Have you heard whether we are to be brought to trial this day?"
"Nay, I am in none of their secrets," growled the jailer, and withdrew.
Jack made haste to examine the provisions. In one loaf, he found a short letter from his father, full of affection. In the other, he discovered what astonished him beyond measure. It was a small book carefully wrapped up, which, on being opened, proved to be the Testament lately given him by Arthur Brydges. In the envelope was written in Anne's hand, "Forgive and pray for me! A. L."
Master Dennett had also received a missive from his wife, and while he was reading it, Jack took the opportunity to show Anne's gift and note to his uncle. "I know not what to think," said he. "It is Anne's hand, I am sure. I cannot wonder so much at what she hath written, but that she should send me the Testament passes my comprehension."