In an instant the sound of weeping ceased, and an angry murmur passed like a wave through the dense crowd.
'A Papist! To rule over us? Never! Never!' cried a voice, which recalled to my mind all at once the smell of newly cut grass and the aspect of an old covered shed and a big roughly made cart within it, whilst again, I trembled, yet breathed more feebly because of the kindness of the tones.
Jack Fish it was indeed, and he continued to ejaculate—
'A Roman Catholic Queen! God forbid we should come to such straits as that! A Papist!' and such like, until the people caught it up and cried with one voice, 'A Papist? To rule over us? Never! Never! Never!'
'What do you mean?' asked Sir Hubert. 'Is this only sentiment? Or does your heart go with your cry? Answer me. Yes or no.'
'Yes! Yes! Yes!' shouted all, or almost all.
'It is well,' said Sir Hubert. 'It is well for you, people of England, that you feel like this. With Mary for its queen this country would be plunged back into Roman Catholicism. Perchance Mary would wed the King of Spain——'
He was interrupted by angry and excited cries.
'We will not have Mary to reign over us!' shouted loud voices. 'We will not! We will not!'
When they were a little calmer Sir Hubert said—