Jack looked earnestly toward the door, and started as Anne entered supported by her father. Anne was pale and worn, but seemed quite calm.
She gave her brother a long look which he could not understand. It was full of love and supplication, and then brightened into a sort of triumph and joy.
"This maiden is the sister of the prisoner," said Father Barnaby. "With a degree of faith and piety rare in this age, she hath herself, by her own act, delivered him into the hands of the Church that his soul may be saved even by the destruction of the body. Speak, my daughter, without fear. How did you first suspect your brother's heresy?"
"He came to me to comfort me one day when I was in trouble," answered Anne clearly and readily. "He found me in tears, and strove to console me by telling me what he had learned from reading the Bible."
"Well—" said the prior, "and you refused to listen to him?"
"I did at that time," returned Anne.
"What did he say?"
"He told me that all my penances and exercises were of no avail; that—"
"That will do!" said Father Barnaby. "We have heard enough of these blasphemies without troubling you to repeat them. Is it your belief that your brother is wholly a heretic?"
"He is wholly a believer in the gospel as set forth by Master Tyndale," said Anne, "as—as I am also!" she added firmly. "I believe with him! I was blinded for a time—blinded and besotted by spiritual pride and selfishness, and I fought against my convictions with all my might. Tempted by the devil, I betrayed my brother into your hands; but God in infinite mercy hath given me the grace of repentance. I believe my brother is right—and I desire no more at your hands than leave to die with him."