manifestly of a serious kind. Lady Louvaine bade Edith look out and call Aubrey, whom she desired to inquire of some responsible person the meaning of this apparent commotion. Aubrey reined in his horse accordingly, as he passed a gentleman in clerical attire, which at that date implied a cassock, bands, and black stockings. Had Aubrey known it, the narrowness of the bands, the tall hat, the pointed shoes, and the short garters, also indicated that the clergyman in question was a Puritan.

“Pray you, Sir, is there news of import come?” inquired the youth: “or what means this ado?”

The clergyman stopped suddenly, and looked up at his questioner.

“What means it?” he said sadly. “Friend, the great bell of Paul’s was rung this morrow.”

“I cry you mercy, Sir. Being a countryman, I take not your meaning.”

“The great bell of Paul’s,” explained the stranger, “tolls never but for one thing, and hath been silent for over forty years.”

“Good lack! not the plague, I trust?” cried Aubrey.

“Would it were no worse! Nay, this means that we are sheep without a shepherd—that she who hath led us for three-and-forty years, who under God saved us from Pope and Spaniard, can lead us no more for ever. Lad, no worser news could come to Englishmen than this. Queen Elizabeth hath passed away.”

So, under the shadow of that dread sorrow, and that perilous uncertain future, they entered their new home.