'Indeed, indeed, Robert, I know nothing,' faltered Laura. I left her sitting in that room

Was it possible that she knew nothing?

Good Heavens! what could have happened? And the poor fellow, in his distraction, almost threw her from him, and with clenched hands struck his own forehead.

Laura watched him with mingled pity and terror. She thought of Annie's pale face and strange manner, when she left her after that cruel visit, and she began to share her brother's alarm. Oh, how bitterly she now repented of her rash words! Meantime, they had forgotten that they were not alone, until they were recalled to the fact by a loud, rough voice.

6

Why, Robert, are you out of your mind?' cried his father. What on earth is all this row about? Come! speak up, one of you two! Do you hear? I'm not going to be made a fool of in my own house, so don't you think it,' he added angrily.

The long-dreaded moment of discovery had come at last; but in the terrible anguish which overwhelmed him Robert scarcely thought of it. The power of love had asserted itself in earnest, and had conquered all his former cowardice. One thought, one feeling, alone possessed his soul,- What had become of Annie ?'

Yet it was a terrible scene which followed, and one never forgotten by those who witnessed it.

When, by degrees, old Mr. Wilson learnt the whole truth, and how he had been deceived, he swore and stormed at his son with unmeasured rage. He poured forth such torrents of abuse, and showed such uncontrolled passion, that even Laura trembled; for he turned fiercely upon her when she tried to speak to Robert, and urge him to immediate action in search of Annie.

As for Mrs. Wilson, she had given way altogether, overcome with terror at the stormy scene, and could only crouch back sobbing in a corner of the sofa.

But Laura's words had roused her brother. Something must be done at once; there was no time to be lost, and he hurried forth from the room with his father's curses still ringing in his ears. He found that the carriage from Mere had not yet started, so that he could drive back at once, and begin his inquiries and search that very night. With what different feelings did he pass over that same road again! Then, he was full of hope, but now, only of despair, as he thought of the time already wasted in this wrong direction.

Suddenly he remembered that in his all-absorbing anxiety he had heard nothing about Laura's visit. What could she have said or done? Had she suddenly revealed his treachery to Annie, or even reproached her with it? He buried his face in his hands, and groaned aloud. Surely a sudden and terrible Nemesis had overtaken him! (To be continued.)

ILLIAM SANCROFT was a Suffolk man, of good descent. He was born on Jan. 30, 1617, aud received his earlier education at Bury, whence he went to Cambridge and became a member of Emmanuel College.

In 1637 he took his bachelor's degree, being, as is supposed, head of the Senior Optimes. Several letters exist which young Sancrcft wrote about that time, and they bear the impress of genuine piety, and are very poetical in their expressions. Speaking of the death of a dear fellow-collegian he says, Four days before he died I was with him, and when I had taken leave of him, and was gone out of the chamber, he called for me again, and again bade me farewell in the Lord, and putting his bones about my neck (for that was all that was left of his arms) he prayed God to bless me... Sleep on, blessed soul! upon the downy lap of eternity; thy name shall always be to ne as ointment poured forth; and when I forget thee let this be my punishment, to feel another and as great a loss!'

Another letter to his father will show his sense of ministerial responsibility, and the delightful prospect that holy work gave him. 'I am persuaded that for this end I was sent into the world, and therefore, if God lends me life and abilities, I shall be willing to spend myself and be spent upon the work.'

In due time Sancroft became a fellow of Emmanuel, and a lecturer in Greek and Hebrew. The times were very unquiet-the famous Covenant (framed for the purpose of overturning the Church) was enforced, and many fellows were ejected for withholding their signatures. The Master of Emmanuel, Dr. Holdsworth, was imprisoned for aiding Charles, and Sancroft, who made no secret of his own loyalty, was much surprised that he was allowed so long to continue his academical

labours in peace. His abhorrence of the murder of King Charles is strongly expressed in letters written to his father. 'It was a horrid wickedness, a black act, which an age could not expiate. It was the martyrdom of the best Protestant in these kingdoms, and incomparably the best king upon earth!' At this time Sancroft certainly meditated exile, but his father's sudden death obliged him to remain in England. He left Cambridge at least, but some of his friends there coaxed him back; and there he remained until July or August, 1651, when he was expelled from the Society, and had, in his own words, to sigh out a long and sad farewell to Cambridge.'

During his absence he published one or two important works. The first was levelled at the doctrines of rigid Calvinism, the second exposed the hypocritical policy of the ruling party, and their abuse of religion as a cloak for unhallowed ambition.

After a time he went to Holland, and there preached before Mary, mother of William the Third. Thence he travelled as far as Venice and Rome, and in the Eternal City a letter from the Hague told him how the King was recalled. This good news determined Sancroft to return at once to England.

He found his good friend, Dr. Cosin, nominated to the Bishopric of Durham, and the Bishop-elect not only appointed him one of his chaplains, but procured him the honour of preaching the consecration sermon of no less than seven bishops in Westminster Abbey.

By Bishop Cosin, too, he was presented to the living of Houghtonle-Spring aud a canonry in the great northern cathedral, but preferments came so fast that these lucrative posts did not detain Sancroft long in Durham. The Mastership of Emmanuel was vacant, and though Sancroft knew nobody there his name and fame survived, and none seemed fitter to preside over the College than he. He was accordingly elected, and ruled the Society with a prudent heart for the space of three years. The present chapel was built on his plan, and partly by his bounty. After this he was Dean of York and Dean of St. Paul's in succession. As Dean of St. Paul's he found interruptions of duty in the Great Plague, and a stimulus to exertion in the calamitous fire which levelled old St. Paul's. He preached before the King how the fire 'flew triumphant over the proudest heights, and waved his curled head,' and how it is sin which puts thunder into God's hand and turns flames of love into a consuming fire.'

We may thank Sancroft for the noble building which rears its proud head above the roar of London. In a letter of his to Sir Christopher Wren, he, in conjunction with the Primate and two other Bishops, bade the architect frame 'a design handsome and noble, and suitable to all the ends of it, and to the reputation of the city and nation, and to take it for granted that money will be had to accomplish it.'

The first stone was laid in 1675, and the topstone was placed in 1710. Sancroft did not live to rejoice at this event, but Bishop Compton, Sir C. Wren, and the master-builder, were all permitted to see the goodly work stand complete before their eyes.

In 1677, much to his surprise, Sancroft was elevated to the Primacy. Bishop Burnet, no great admirer of Sancroft, supposes the Court party, and especially the Duke of York, urged his advancement,

because they thought he would be a passive tool in their hands. If so, they mistook their man.

When he assumed the Church's helm the times were more than usually anxious, and men trembled for the ark of the Reformation. The Duke of York, who stood next the throne, was a bigoted Romanist, and the King secretly favoured, as far as he dared, the Popish cause. In fact, he would gladly have seen it the established religion.

A well-meant but fruitless attempt was made by the new Archbishop to bring back the Duke of York from the bosom of the Roman Church. Accompanied by the venerable Bishop of Winchester, Sancroft met James Stuart in his closet, and addressed him for half an hour in an excellent speech. He reminded him how the Church of England's was the womb that bare him, and how his royal father loved her and knew how to value her, and left these memorable words as a legacy to his children: Never suffer your heart to receive the least check or disaffection from the true religion established in the Church of England. I tell you I have tried it, and after much search and many disputes have concluded it to be the best in the world.' The Duke listened patiently to Sancroft's address, and said he was surprised at being thus appealed to, and thought it would do him an injury, though he believed their intentions were good. He assured them he had carefully examined the questions at issue between the two Churches, and had chosen his part with leisurely consideration. He then desired them to depart without any further discussion.

The Archbishop was very careful to choose fit persons only for the sacred ministry, and exerted himself to provide adequate stipends for them. Among other parishes so benefited was Fresingfield. He also displayed a zeal for God's house in the suspension of a Bishop of Lichfield, on account of non-residence and neglect of duty. This unworthy man had got his bishopric through the powerful influence of a great Court lady.

When Charles II. was dying Sancroft addressed him, but the King gave no sign. The pious Ken also made some prayers, but the King took no notice. He refused the Holy Communion also, because he wished to die a Roman Catholic. When the Duke of York had desired the Bishops to retire from the bed, the King exclaimed, For God's sake, brother, send for a priest, and lose no time!' The priest came; the dying man confessed, and was absolved, and appeared happier. He was evidently a Romanist at heart, but secretly, for fear of his Protestant subjects.

When James succeeded the Bishops addressed him with many professions of loyalty, and Sancroft set the crown on his head. We cannot understand how a Roman Catholic king could consistently receive coronation from an heretical archbishop. Indeed, he would not receive the Lord's Supper at the Coronation, as is usual, and Sancroft has been much blamed for consenting to crown a man who rejected the Sacrament. But had the Archbishop taken the other course, and had the Bishops agreed to do the same, the Church would have refused to crown a sovereign whom the State acknowledged. There were evidently difficulties in either direction, and it is said Sancroft reproached himself for consenting to the omission of the Lord's Supper, and was sorry he had crowned the King on that condition.

As soon as James was settled on his throne he began to try how far he could bend England to do his will. He took to himself counellors of the Romish faith, and he encouraged the Romish priests to propagate with all their might and main the tenets of their own faith. This, of course, led the clergy of the Church of England to preach up the Reformation, and to denounce the errors of the Roman Church. The counsellors of James thereupon advised him to forbid any controversial preaching, under pretence of calming the violent heats which then prevailed. But the clergy were not going to be put down in this fashion. The pulpits rang with sermons against Rome, and they still form the most powerful bulwark against Popery that has ever appeared. Finding his efforts in this direction vain, James next established a Commission to punish ecclesiastical offences, and armed it with very formidable powers. By this engine any person, however high, might be summoned, and deprived of his office, and silenced. It was regarded with great alarm, and though the wily King tried to make it more popular by naming three Bishops as commissioners, it was felt to be a deliberate attack on the liberty of the people.

Sancroft would not act, and he told the King so, urging as his reasons infirmity and press of business. The Archbishop has been blamed for not taking his place at the Court, and there protesting against it. Had he followed this straightforward course,' says Mackintosh, and interfered in the earlier proceedings of this Court, his action might have led to very important results. Probably it was Sancroft's dislike of interfering with the royal prerogative which now made him shrink from opposing the King, as it afterwards kept him from taking the oath of allegiance to William III.

His refusal gave great offence to James, and he was forbidden to appear at Court.

Various expedients were resorted to by the King for the purpose of forwarding the interests of the Roman Church, and of rendering the Church of England contemptible. Unworthy men were thrust into bishoprics; Massey, a Romanist, was made Dean of Christ Church, and every opportunity was seized of placing Roman Catholics in posts of authority, and of dismissing such as would not interpret the laws of the land in support of the royal views.

Sancroft, who had, as we have seen, exalted notions of the royal prerogative, and was unwilling to resist the King in the matter of the commission, found at length a rock on which to make a stand. The King, by his own will, and against the law, repealed the penal statutes against Dissenters. This was done as a show of tenderness towards all Dissenters; but in reality he wished only to favour his own party. When the Archbishops and Bishops were required to send the King's declaration to their clergy, ordering it to be read in all churches in three weeks' time (at the instigation, it is said, of Father Petre), Sancroft felt the time for action had come. It was now or never. The most eminent London clergymen were at once consulted, and the Bishops in whom he chiefly confided were summoned to Lambeth, and it was unanimously resolved to disregard the King's order. A petition also was prepared for presentation to his Majesty. This famous petition was signed by seven bishops, who by that act immortalised their names. It was presented to James the same